unstoppable.

A voice sweet enough to turn a man from a demonic entity to a fallen angel, pure enough to make the wandering souls crave life again, and Phoenix hoped he was mistaken to apologize for being so upfront until his eyes fell on her features. In that moment, Phoenix couldn't contain the way his body shook under the pressure of seeing her face again--rosy cheeks, lips painted to fit her skin instead of the pale, lifeless body he held in his arms until it went cold. "Why walk in the opposite direction if you didn't know me?" His voice was low, unusually shaky as he lifted an arm to reach out to her; just a touch, he thought, to feel the warmth he so desperately craved. "Why did you run?" Phoenix, who was careful about each play, one step ahead of everyone, was making a move. His thumb brushed against her polished cheeks, stepping close enough to hear her heartbeak and lungs expanding to make it clear to him that she was, whoever she was, alive. "You died." Soulless eyes now carrying the weight of seeing his wife again, the only woman he'd ever love effortlessly. Phoenix took a step back, attempting to collect himself, while he never broke eye contact with the stranger in front of him. "Who the hell are you?" Was this his punishment? The gods decided his reign among the humans was over by making him relive the day he lost everything. "Who the hell are you? How do you look exactly like her?" It was ironic that Phoenix was never in a position to ask questions because he always knew the answer. No soul could help him find the answer to this mystery. His humanity was shut off years ago, but today it was fighting back--taunting him like he did with his helpless victims. "Answer me."

“When a man comes charging at you, saying he’s not going to hurt you, it’s usually a reason to run.” The sharp edge in her voice had been charged with panic, a need to conceal her need to distance herself from him. A step back hindered once his hand rose, the spread of warmth from the tips of his fingers made her freeze. He had touched her many times, more than she would ever wish to count, and she had once basked in it. She had always felt powerful under his hands, flourishing and safe, replaced now by a wave of agony that she couldn’t ever sink into his touch again. A promise to a dead woman to never reveal the truth made her flinch away. “I have no idea who you seem to think I am or who you think I look like, but who I am is none of your business.” She was looking beyond him as the lie rolled off her tongue, her eyes locked on a market vendor who had taken an interest in them, evidently a slow day for sales. Alora had wanted to end the interaction there, to create distance that would never allow their paths to cross again, but regretfully, her gaze locked on his, and her frigid attitude had instantaneously started to thaw. Guilt gnawed at her as she stared into the face of a man she had fallen in love with, a man who was never truly hers. “Alora.” Her eyes squeezed shut, internally damning herself for not turning around and walking away from him. “I’m Alora Thorne.” The reveal of her last name the only option to untangle herself, placing all hope in him, waving it off as a simple family resemblance. “And if you don’t mind, I really need to go.” Relief that the group of girls that had hindered her previously had turned a corner and had disappeared from view. Her focus on Phoenix for a beat longer than it should have been before she attempted to turn and run from him a second time. 

It's been a while since Phoenix strolled through the market, especially at this hour, flocks of people with their children or spouses, happiness on their faces. Phoenix remembered why he planned to burn the square down. Why did he even tag along? His soulless expression glancing down at their fingers interwined, crimson bracelet peeking through, almost taunting him, and realization hit that it was her idea. Florie, a pain in the ass. "How long are we going to be here?" His question was filled with annoyance as a child bumped into his leg. "Disgusting." As he waited more patiently than he wanted, Phoenix's eyes began to wander with curiosity--A moment to appreciate what he once felt for a certain woman. His eyes moved at a swift pace over the villagers until he caught a glimpse of her. This was normal; it wouldn't be the first time he'd see memories of her, except this memory was basking in the sun. The noise around him went silent, eyes remaining on a soul whom he had buried long ago, and everything slowed down as he took a step forward, letting go of the hand keeping him at bay. Another step, and another, until he was pushing his way through crowds of people. Phoenix held his breath the entire way without thinking as he got closer — his heart failed to steady as he reached out to her. It was impossible; he held her in his arms until she took her last breath. "Please," His voice shuddering, coated in a plea he'd experienced once. "Stop walking away from me, I'm not going to hurt you, but I just need...to see you.." This couldn't be her, Celestia Thorne, a woman who filled him with love only to eradicate it the minute she died. Celestia, the one who made him into the demon he is today.

Familiarity sparked in the crowd, Alora’s gaze locking on a face that she couldn’t bury, no matter how much easier life would be if she could forget. She hadn’t seen Phoenix since the night that she and Celestia had made their final switch, slipping from the warmth of his embrace in the small hours to return to a life far from Strife. Her heart lodged uncomfortably in the back of her throat, and she knew that she needed to slip away, but she lingered to watch him and the female at his side. Hand in hand, and she had turned to him to speak, a softness in her smile — and Alora was certain the same softness bled into her voice as she spoke to him. Only once her eyes returned to Phoenix, he hadn’t been paying attention to the girl at his side; they’d been on her instead. “No.” It kick-started her movement, winding her way around those nearest to her, no time for apologies as she was forced to push herself through the crowds. His voice called to her, and it shattered her, but it didn’t feel any worse than the softer voice that called out from behind him, “Phoenix.” A concern in the other girl’s voice that had Alora fearful of becoming tangled up in his life again. Her getaway was halted by a group of girls, hooked arm in arm, giggling and talking loudly, an unbreakable force when approaching from behind. “Can you — excuse… move.” All the utterings in the world didn’t make a difference; she spun on her heel to find another escape route, to find herself in reaching distance of him. Her mouth opened, but words failed to reach the tip of her tongue. Eyes darting over a face that she never should have seen again, a promise she had made to herself and Celestia. “Do I know you?” A weak choice to weasel herself out of the situation, the best she could muster when running hadn’t worked in her favour.