Malcolm reached out for her shaking hands, taking one in his own and trying to get her to meet his eyes. "I am not leaving you alone. We can go wherever you want, but I'm not leaving you, Freyja." It was adamant, leaving her not being an option that was even remotely on his radar. He lets her hand go so that she can do what she needs to do to close up, helped to usher people outside and provided directions to where would be safe if their homes weren't close enough, and watched as she locked the door behind them.

"Come on, we need to get you out of this quickly so you don't catch a chill. Your place, if that's okay? I'll deal with the blood thing if and when it becomes an issue."

"Or we can just... We can stay here. That's fine, if you want to stay here we can. You can continue to serve these people, maybe we can even protect them if things get bad." Malcolm really hoped things did not get bad, but he supposed if it did having him there would be useful also, thanks to the healing qualities of his blood. "It's whatever is best for you. But if somehow that sun comes back out, I'm going to have to stay here until night fall."

"No. No, we need to leave. I can't be near people if... if that happens. I can't--" Her throat swelled and she did her best to suck in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "Maybe it's best if you go to yours and I go back to mine. You... are away from me. Just in case." Her hands shook as she reached behind the counter to grab her purse. Yes. That was for the best. "Let's go? Before it gets worse."

"There isn't much else you can do, but does this place have somewhere to go, for it the hurricane hits here? A place to bunker down if really needed?" Malcolm had been fortunate enough to never experience a hurricane, he didn't know what was best to do in the situation, but he knew the basics of staying away from the windows and bunkering down. "I'm fine, I'm not hurt. I'm not hungry either, not... not yet, it's okay." There was a dull ache in the back of his throat, reminding him that he would need to feed soon. He was okay for now though, he didn't need it right now. "You.. This place, you're mostly all magical, no? There should be people putting up protection spells, or wards, or whatever it is that they do. Or you need to come with me, and I can make sure you're somewhere truly safe."

She seemed like she wanted to be helpful, at least. If she'd wanted to attack him, she could have done it while he was on the ground, or even before, when he was trying to wrangle the computer into being the useful tool it had been promised to be. He stood aside so she could see the screen a bit better. “It is asking me for information I don’t have. I’m trying to find the bus schedules.”

Freyja moved towards the keyboard, rested her fingers on top of the keys and typed in the password for the wifi and then clicked enter. The curser turned into a rainbow circle, swirling around over and over again, and then suddenly, the bus schedule popped up. "Oh. Hey. Here it is!" Freyja smiled widely as she glanced towards the stranger. "That's what you were looking for, right?"

Freyja had been cleaning up at work when the storm had hit and if she was being honest, she could have made it home in time, but she'd become scared. She wasn't sure how bad the storm would get and the last thing she wanted was to make it worse with her own magic. Inside was safe. Inside, she wouldn't get overwhelmed or overstimulated. At least, that's what she kept telling herself as more and more people began to accumulate.

"Yes, I did. It's not like I asked permission and you said yes. I attacked you." It would have been different, if he had asked permission. It would have been different, if he could have stopped himself without having to be dragged away from her.

"True. You didn't ask permission. But... I liked it" Freyja said, her eyes lifting to meet his again. "And if you were to ask permission now, I'd say yes." Because not only did she want him to bite her again, but she trust him. She knew Malcolm wasn't going to kill her.

It was a busy night. Five deliveries, all in different parts of town, and with his car still in the shop from the attack from that overzealous hunter, he was making his way around via bus and his own two feet. He’d gotten sick of the rain soaking into the hem of his pants the third drop-off, and even a bit of hunting and a quick drink hadn’t done much more than keep his hunger from distracting him further.

The town had enough nightlife to keep the buses running late, but that didn’t make them frequent. He’d had the bad luck to turn the corner right as it was pulling away, and just enough self respect to not try chasing it down in the rain when he knew it wouldn’t stop.

Fine. He could wait for the next one. There was a library across the street, with windows pointing right at the bus station, perfect for hiding away from the storm for a bit. He’d left his reading glasses somewhere in his car, but if he was lucky, they might have a bus schedule lying around somewhere.

He wasn’t lucky. Quin had never been very good with computers, and the screen was stuck on one of those log-in pages he could never remember the right words for. He finger-typed out a few guesses (Password, passWord, password123), to no avail.

He was stuck, alternating between staring at the locked-out screen and watching out the window for the bus, leaning back in his chair to balance on the back two legs.

The fall seemed to happen in slow motion. One second, he was pulling his hand away from the desk to quiet the little beeping alarm on his watch (past sundown, eat if you've forgotten), the next his view out the window was temporarily obstructed by his fall, accidentally locking eyes with one of the few other patrons from his place on the floor.

They walked in silence for a few paces. The kind of silence that didn’t press for words but wrapped around them like fog — thick and hard to see through. Matthias stared ahead, jaw tight, hands deep in his jacket pockets, like maybe if he clenched them hard enough he could keep from saying what he knew was coming. “I think I already know,” he said, voice low but steady. His steps slowed, then stopped altogether. The sidewalk stretched out quiet around them, the night cold and still. He turned toward her, the woman he thought he’d never see again. The woman he once planned to build a future with. The woman he’d mourned. The woman he still hadn’t let go of. “The second I found out it was you... something in me just knew.” He let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want to believe it, but I didn’t have to ask either. I know you. Or at least — I did. And the woman I knew wouldn’t have done something like that out of malice. Not without a reason. A real one.” He paused there, tension flickering at the edges of his expression. “I know my family too,” he added, softer now. “I know what they could be like when they were afraid. What they were willing to do if they thought they were protecting something. Or just keeping control.” His gaze dropped, then lifted again slowly. “If it had gone the other way — if you were the one who died and they were the reason — I don’t think I could’ve forgiven them. I really don’t. But with you…” His throat worked as if he might say more, but the words didn’t come right away. “With you, I think I can. Not yet. But... in time, I hope.” A beat passed. “I keep wondering if I could’ve stopped it. If I’d told them about you from the start — been honest with them, the way I was with you — maybe I could’ve convinced them to accept it. To accept you. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m just trying to convince myself of the impossible.” His jaw clenched again, something bitter pressing against the edge of his voice. “Not that it matters anymore. They’re gone.” He looked back at her then — his gaze sharp, but not cruel. Just clear. Honest. “So no, I’m not asking why you did it. I just… need to hear it from you. I need to know what happened, in your own words.”

"There's a lot of what if's..." She whispered, her own eyes averting downward for a moment. She'd ran through them herself for years. Maybe if she'd just held out for a little longer, Matthias would have come home. He could have convinced them to let her go. Maybe if she'd have just learned to control her magic, she could have protected herself from them instead of destroying the whole house.

It was her fault. And no matter what anyone said, Freyja always felt as if it was her fault.

She nodded, cleared her throat, and then met his gaze. She wasn't afraid to talk about this. Not really. And he deserve to know. "We were supposed to meet, that night. I was... I was on my way to see you." A faint smile ghosted across her lips for a brief moment and then disappeared. "I don't know who it was that grabbed me. I felt multiple hands and before I knew it..." She let out a breath and shook her head. "I woke up in your house. A room... an area that I hadn't been in before. Your family, they had weapons. They... I told them that I loved you. That I would never even think about hurting you. Or them. They were included in that. I wasn't dangerous. I wasn't--" Her voice cracked as tears bubbled in her eyes and slowly slid down her cheeks.

"I can't control my magic. I don't know how to. Not now... not then. So when one of them raised the gun and aimed it towards me... when it was clear that they wouldn't listen to me, when all they saw was a monster, I-- the earth responded." Freyja lifted her hand to the scar under her right clavicle, where the bullet had hit. Where the bullet still was. "It protected me from them. But it also... destroyed everything."

She blinked several times, eyes lifting to the night sky as she tried to stop the emotions from taking over more. In that moment, she was thankful that her magic no longer responded to her emotions. If that was the case, the earth would currently be shaking and Matthias... well... Matthias would probably think she was more of a monster than what she already was.

"I know you didn't ask for the why... but that... that's what happened." She whispered as she finally looked back at him. "And I'm so sorry."

@freyjaxcarter asked: “what do you see when you look at me?”

"I see someone I care for deeply, someone I'm concerned about. I see a powerful woman underneath the fear, whether that fear is just to do with your power and lack of control, I don't know, but you are powerful and better yet, you're strong, Freyja. Stronger than you think." Malcolm answered almost instantly, reaching out to grab her hand and squeeze. "You're beautiful, a better friend than I deserve. A better. . . a better woman than I deserve. I see someone I'm concerned I take advantage of, and confuse even more. But I hope that what you see is someone that will help you, be there for you, no matter what. And someone who will never, ever hurt you again."

Freyja wasn't sure what she expected him to say when she'd asked the question but the words that came out of his mouth... well, she hadn't expected anything of that nature. Her eyebrows furrowed at him, at his words, and she couldn't help but shake her head at him. "You're describing someone that's not even here." She said. Freyja didn't believe any of what Malcolm had just told her. Other than the fact that she was his best friend.

Matthias exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cold night air. Did he want to? That was a loaded question— but talking was the only way to get answers, to stop carrying the weight of what happened like an open wound. At least he hoped. But the part of him that still ached hesitated. He glanced away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel ready,” he admitted, quieter now. “But if I keep waiting for that, it’s never gonna happen.” There was honesty in his words, a rare kind he didn’t offer easily. He hadn’t planned for this conversation, but fate—or whatever cruel force ran Port Leary—had thrown them together again. His hands flexed in his pockets before he nodded, more to himself than to her. “Yeah. Let’s talk.” His voice was steady, but something uncertain lingered beneath it. He gestured down the sidewalk. “Walk with me?” It felt easier that way— to move, to not face everything head-on all at once.

"Okay." She said, quietly, as she fell in step beside him on the sidewalk. Freyja wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to comfort herself as they walked next to one another. Her cheeks flared with heat, not meaning to. But it had been so long since she'd been near him. And being this close to him... well, it brought up memories of when they were closer, once.

"I... I don't know where to start." She admitted to him, her eyes shifting to look towards him. "What would you like to know or... to ask?"

When he said her name, her stomach flipped; heat pressing against her cheeks and she was suddenly glad that they were standing in the dark with only small amounts of light so that he couldn't see the way she reacted to it.

"I... I mean, I think we should talk but do you even want to, Matthias?" Freyja asked, her voice cracking slightly. She didn't want to force him. She didn't want him to feel like he had to because they'd run into each other again. "I want to talk to you. So bad. But I don't want you to feel like you have to if you're not ready."