#ismael.

Her hands were clean, her hands were clean, her hands were clean. Yet, why did they feel anything but? Why did she worry that all who she passed could see the blood that clung to them? That covered her in a way that she was certain would ensure she would never be clean again. The past had been brought back to them, while the future had been left to be rewritten. Nashoba was alive, and she had not killed him. It was one of the many mantras that slipped through her thoughts, as she seemed to walk without any idea to where she was going. Until she seemed to find herself in front of the clinic, until she stood just outside it as she felt the presence of the cambion within it. In that moment, her thoughts shifted from Nashoba to Ismael, to the promise that she had ultimately made him. And the one that she had broken.

There was a hesitation at first, before she drew herself to the door, before she stepped inside and awaited the appearance of the cambion. No words seemed to fill her thoughts, nor did any find their way to her tongue as she took him in. What could she say to him? How could she make right the way that she had failed him?

There would be no telling what the war would do to the city. Nor to those that wished to defend it. For too long, she had heard of the consequences of war. The decimation, the lingering wounds, the fall of a kingdom. She could not simply stand by and allow that to happen to the fey. Even if the one who held her heart placed himself upon the wrong side. Upon the side that stood against her. Yet, the lycan was not the only one that slipped into her thoughts, that had taken root since the day she had met him. Finding Ismael had been easy, for she would find him anywhere, just as she would with Nashoba. Her hands took hold of his, steered him away from those that would be his defense, just as he would be theirs. But they, in the moment, were not of her concern. "I do not have much time," she explained, as she looked up into features that were growing ever more familiar to her. "There is something important that I must take care of, so I will not be able to aid you." A notion that seemed to cut within her, that pained her in a way that she had only been accustomed to with Nash. "Are you prepared for this?"

The clinic reeked of various animals, some even with supernatural qualities. Lilith had heard the good doctor spent some of his time with the lycans, tending to their wounds and the like. How very noble of him. Though, she cared little to what happened to the mutts now; she had done her part, given them a chance. How easily they had crumbled. "I will only extend this offer once," she stated as she moved within the clinic, heels audible against the floors. "I can take away your memories, give you a chance at something... different."

ismael velasco. xxix. bartender. aquelarre laveau. { abierto / 7maravillas }