#closed au.

The last memory Dan Heng had before losing consciousness was of alarms blaring and asteroids buffeting the ship's failing shields that boomed thunderously throughout the corridors. Crowds of passengers stampeded towards the evacuation pods were the only vehicles capable of evading the destructive meteors were the impetus Dan Heng needed to try and escape with them. Yet, when he'd been checked too hard and cracked his skull on a brutally hard segment of exposed piping, the impact had been enough to black out and send him crumpling to the ground.

When Dan Heng awoke, the silence was cutting and the darkness was thick as coagulated blood.

Sensation returned to his limbs and a dull ache throbbed in his skull, Dan Heng carefully rising to his feet. Yet the second a wave of vertigo washed over him, he wobbled and careened towards the wall his hands caught him upon. Breathing laboriously, Dan Heng sank to the ground and let the darkness encroach upon him again, ganging up with the silence.

they sit in a room full of art, and the only piece that hannibal cared about was the one sitting across from him. even with the multitude of paintings and sketches hannibal has done of will graham ( hidden away in a separate room from where they are now ), he could not stop himself from wanting more. will had become his muse ; the man who had walked into hannibal's gallery and understood him and his art simply upon looking at it, staring into the parts no one else had noticed. leaning around the easel, brush in one hand and palette in the other, he gazes at will, and does not even try to hide the admiration in his eyes. they've chosen the golden hour for their session, rays leaking through the large windows, drenching will in sparkling sunlight, casting a glow to his features. the only reason hannibal doesn't point out how angelic he looks is because he knew will would get up and leave.

Yes, he knew. 'Castle' was ultimately a poor word for a monstrous abomination of a battleship that Dan Feng had cobbled together from various vessels abandoned at a ship's graveyard. The rusted abomination cloaked in mist dressed up the romantic tales the townsfolk gossiped about him with, but it was the best Axiuhe could work with. Living within the pipes and boilers of the dilapidated battleship, the Dragon's Heart he'd surrendered long ago to the dragon lived within its depths, constantly fueling an endless flight away from the Thousand-Faced Saint, who had once been a man... and beloved by this hack of a sorceror.

The modest doorway to the foyer and the deep, concrete stairwell led to the rolodex Dan Feng anxiously turned, in quiet desperation for a new corner of the Xianzhou that wasn't plagued by that wretch. The window brightened into what appeared to be the courtyard of an abandoned residence, the flagstones scattered with leaf litter and a mighty oak tree whose canopy hung over much of the dilapidated residence. It would take work to make proper, but it was enough.

Bailu clung to a column within the foyer anxiously, the Forbidden Residence foreboding at her back despite the way he and his daughter had made it a home. She didn't recognize him when he assumed his human guise, but it was a necessary evil.

"Highness? This way."

Within the elegant corridor bathed in gold from the sparkling chandeliers above, haunting portraits of bygone figures in ostentatious finery followed the comings and goings, their eyes following each person as they moved through the corridor, just as they did. Sypha regarded the portraits warily, but they kept in stride of Elize as she seemed almost eager to attend this moot of the vampire's senate, some convoluted form of governance that had emerged in recent generations. Once, they had hunted these beings without mercy, but now... Sypha was a nightwalker. They had to co-exist, lest they find themselves destroyed.

"'Luck' here being a very subjective thing."

This was getting out of hand. The downpour pelted them, soaking through his overcoat narrowly to the bone. The headlights of their towncar sliced through the misty darkness of the late night thunderstorm, highlighting the worn brickwork of an abandoned warehouse near the harbor. The blare of a foghorn sounded ghoulishly through the gloam, and Haytham's eyes drifted lower to the knobby pavement where a pile of twisted, mangled bodies covered haphazardly by tarp bled a river of blood that filtered towards a storm drain and dribbled noisily into the sewer below. The stench was overwhelming, needed to be investigated before CSI arrived... though he felt like it didn't need to be.

"This looks like your brother's handiwork."

Luna didn't react with shock. She leaned against the hood of their car, uncaring of the rain that saturated her pantsuit and raincoat, arms folded as she bore holes into the dirt.

She knew.

'Luck' here was a malady. It was a portent of doom that had followed Luna for years, all wrought by the plague borne by blood that had finally found the means with which to wreak its revenge.

The blare of sirens careening down the throat of the narrow dirt road with blue and red lights bouncing from the exteriors of other warehouses clustered together shattered the silence, cruisers swerving around them as they beheld the gruesome spectacle. Haytham wordlessly came to his partner's side and guided her away for the others' work to commence.

15: Kiss in the Rain

The rain fell in mellow sheets upon the cityscape, a warm aura enveloping the city that seemed to disappear from the rooftop. It was nice to simply forget the rigors of the day from here, to sometimes do nothing at all and just contemplate, or admire the view. It could be as thoughtful or thoughtless as he wished. Standing beneath an awning that extended over a large window, the rain pattered and he enjoyed a piping hot cup of tea. He wasn't alone for long, though.

Luna joined him, but not beneath the makeshift shelter. She strode over the gravel and stood beneath the pouring rain, and he lowered his mug slowly when it dawned on him: had Lucca made a return.

Admittedly concerned, he stepped into the downpour and touched Luna's shoulder, surprised to see her crestfallen expression that spoke of a pain and heartbreak he hadn't known. But, it was enough.

Gently, he closed the slight distance between them with a kiss, something louder than words in this moment. Something he hoped would be enough.