D E S O L A T I O N

"Mmm, tempting." The fingertips upon the monster's chest move up, until one of those fingers traces along the edge of a tooth that was revealed with his grin. She runs it along the tip, so sharp that the slightest of touches cuts into her skin. "How about this," Tyche's voice trails as the fingertip is brought to her own mouth, lips sucking the drop of crimson away as violet hues smolder. "You tell me what you want now... and I'll see if I feel like giving in."

what an exquisite creature she is. fingers trailing up along his chest and then into his mouth, along his razor sharp teeth, and not even a whiff of fear among her person. not many people can say the same. "what i want... well, isn't it obvious, love?" long tongue sticking out, he gives a big, wet kiss right along the side of her check. "i want you. as much of you as i can handle." so, all of her. "and nothing less! 'course, i want you to enjoy yourself, too..."

The guy splayed out on the concrete doesn't seem like he's going anywhere but he's collared just as roughly by one of the burly bouncers, half-walked, half-dragged towards the street. Now that there aren't any appearances to keep up, Seth grips Tyche's shoulder for support with one hand and presses the other against the stab wound in his side, lets his shoulders sag with the pain of it. "Ty, be a doll and help me inside, huh? Got a medkit up in my office."

"Maybe next time you'll make sure that the men take care of something as simple as a bar brawl. That's clearly all they're capable of." The medkit is resting exactly where he says and she grits her teeth in annoyance as she settles on her knees in front of him. "Not a fucking word, Van Meter." It isn't her first choice of position but it will put her into the easiest spot to clean and dress the wound. The only thing stopping her from completing the task is the ridiculously tacky leather jacket and a torn white shirt. Already too familiar with the way his mind worked, Tyche refused to touch it. "Take off your shirt or bleed to death. Your choice."

Maybe he'd read the time wrong, or the date? They said they'd be here, but after a while of waiting, he worries that he might have done something wrong; the place was a little deserted, and no one seemed to come coming up to him. And then, he blinks, a breath of relief as someone approaches the table. "I—hey!" Derek stands up, and bangs his knee against the table and scoots backward, as if to greet them. "I'm glad to see you! I—the name's Derek. Sorry about being too early."

To say that she felt stupid in the dark gown draped across her frame would be an extreme understatement. She had only worn at the insistence of the woman she was supposed to meet for a date. Unfortunately the arranged time for the meeting had been over an hour ago and it was evident that her companion for the evening would be a no show. It was on her way out of the establishment that a voice caught her attention. "I'm sorry-," Tyche cleared her throat in effort to swallow past the embarrassment she currently felt about being dressed as she was, "But I'm not the woman you're waiting for." Yet there was something familiar in the eyes of the man across from her. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

in a world of silence, you would think that would offer less distractions. not so, with him—it's easy to get lost in the heat of the moment, the unfamiliarity of fighting this way, the glare of the sun from way up high. sighing audibly as he feels her weapon against his side, he lets his weapons slide from his hands and puts them up in defeat. seventh time is not the charm, apparently. letting his wrist device flick on, the voice relays, "hard to remember i'm not covered in scales. i'm used to having a tail to swipe, too." the doesn't excuse him, though. he should be more aware regardless. "hard to keep up with you sometimes, you're quick." offering a sheepish smile, he continues, "and i'm beat."

"You're not doing too terribly. I've definitely taught far worse." Tyche enjoys the time with Soren and how he lets her fight with the different weapons collected over the years. "Besides, if teaching you means I get access to cool shit like this," she waves the chakram in the air, "I'm glad you're not that quick of a study. My weapons access would end otherwise." She offers him a drink of water from the bottle she'd brought with her, "I would be interested to spar with dragon you as well. I think it'd be a good test for me."

used to being sized up, santiago doesn't let the behavior bother him. if anything, he welcomes it. they both do. "what's good for the world is also good for me. it's time we struck back against the people keeping us down."

"Countless people in this city have their own agenda, their own idea of they think is best. You cannot all be right. So tell me," Violet eyes search for signs of manipulation, of a reason to mistrust, "Why I should listen to you."

ezra hums, enjoying her boldness—not a lot of people are keen to touch him. just another thing to like about her. "alright, how's this? you win, you get anything you want. if i win, i get anything i want. fair's fair." he grins, adding, "only thing that scares me is spending another night without your company, doll."

"Mmm, tempting." The fingertips upon the monster's chest move up, until one of those fingers traces along the edge of a tooth that was revealed with his grin. She runs it along the tip, so sharp that the slightest of touches cuts into her skin. "How about this," Tyche's voice trails as the fingertip is brought to her own mouth, lips sucking the drop of crimson away as violet hues smolder. "You tell me what you want now... and I'll see if I feel like giving in."

"there's nothing about you that makes me deflate, doll," he purrs, a chuckle rumbling low in his chest. "but why don't we up those stakes a little, eh? what are you gonna bet that i'm not?"

"If you're so confident," Tyche's fingers trail down the monster's chest, "Why don't you pick?" The smirk she gives is almost sultry, tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Unless of course you're scared."

Involuntarily Tyche finds herself leaning into the soft touch of his hand upon her cheek. All too soon it is pulled back and the ache in her chest seems to grow even larger. There is no end in sight to the cries that wrack her frame. "I need you. Please." Her forehead lifts to press against his, a gesture that once used to bring her comfort. "You have to try. Try to remember."

"It is you." Once more her hands reach for his face, fingertips running along the well known curve of his jaw. "You have to remember." But she can see it in his eyes, amidst the pain clouding those dark brown hues is something unfamiliar. Whatever had happened to him before they had met, what had shaped him into the man she fell in love with, he did not remember. Yet knowing he had lost so much more than just his memory of her, of their life, did little to quell the emotions that rioted within. Sobs are coming freely now and the expression across her face is one of unimaginable grief as the sound of her words continues to rise in panicked desperation "You have to remember. I buried our son. You have to remember!"

"I don't -" his breath was growing more rapid as the blood continued to drip from his nostrils before he placed his head in his heads as he looked at the ground, tears building in his eyes. Why was he crying? Why was he bleeding? Why did it hurt so bad? "I don't know you, I-I'm sorry but you have the wrong guy, please just make it stop" he practically cried as he shut his eyes tightly in hopes of making the pain go away

Tears fall freely now as she kneels in front of him. She cannot bear to see him in pain. Through sheer determination her voice is kept steady and tender, "Your name is Ryan Ronen." Soothing circles are rubbed along the outside of his thigh, the muscles there well known to her palm. "You come from a village called Plainsong. Born to a mother named Raina." As she flicks her eyes up, a glint of pale skin catches her attention. "I am your wife." She traces the tan-line of where his wedding band once rested. "And you," she pulls the necklace carrying hers from around her neck and move his hand away from his face to place it within his palm, "Are my husband. My love."