I'm the bog queen.

She wouldn't let it happen again, to anyone, not while she could help it.

As Trish took the first bite, Anna smiled softly and her shoulders began to relax. And as that single tear rolled down her cheek, Anna reached into a small pocket of her dress and pulled out a plain handkerchief. Leaning forward, she carefully wiped the tear away. Her smile was one of understanding.

"One can't help but notice the pain they're familiar with," She said softly, offering little more as explanation "Eat as much as you want, all of it, if you need". Leaning back, she placed the handkerchief in Trish's palm and squeezed her hand gently. "It seems you may be my only friend in this place, Trish," She said softly "I would prefer you in good health and good spirits, where possible". Of course, there was naturally things neither of them could change, but ensuring the woman had enough to eat? That was feasible.

"Truth be told," The woman sheepishly spoke "I utterly hate eating meat. The texture is...". The woman pulled a face, unable to finish her sentence without wanting to gag. She had managed a few pieces at dinner for the sake of politeness and image. She could hardly be seen sending food back to the kitchen on her first day. If anything, Trish was doing her a favour in this moment, eating what she could not and helping her maintain appearance.

"I've never had a friend before," the girl whispered, lowering the plate. She'd soon have to return it, and she'd tell those working the kitchens a story about the queen wanting to save some of her food for later. Better yet, she might tell them that she didn't want to be seen eating more than she needed to, and that story would go down far better. Even so, she worried for her. One wrong move and she'd be caught doing this, and lord only knows what Morgott would have done to them then. She'd heard the stories, and if they were to believed, then... "I will head to the kitchens and bring you something a little more to your liking. From what you have told me, what we are served will suit you better. None of them will think anything of it." She'd have to head down for it soon.

Each kiss he gave her was met with a pleased hum, taking the warmth of his skin and lips to memory, never to be lost. The way he hovered over her, it was as though he was shielding her from the world outside. She felt, protected and safe. Such a strange sensation but not unwelcome. With him here, she could hide from the judgement of her brother and siblings alike. For a moment, she was free.

Her breath hitched as he began to kiss at her skin, the light stubble upon his face tickling her and drawing a quiet laugh from her lips. One of her hands delved into his hair, gently playing with it and twirling the longer locks around her fingers. A woman whom once seemed so averse to touch, couldn't keep her hands off of him, the hand in his hair trailing to rest between his shoulder blades.

As his lips made contact with her chest, a quiet squeak escaped her; the feeling of his lips tugging upon her nipple coming with an odd but not unpleasant sensation. Her thighs shifted, clutching together as though searching for some relief. She could feel the man's excitement as he toyed with her breasts, a thought that had her matching his want. Reaching slowly, she took one of his hands and guided it to her opposite breast, quietly urging him to knead at the flesh there. She quietly whimpered, her body reacting in ways she had never experienced before. Her white skin was flushed yet somehow felt so cold without his touch.

Kelvin hummed, happy to be guided. There was no sign of reluctance in him, at least not anymore, and as the hand she reached for shifted to the breast she wished it again he was happy to make quick work of it. He kneaded it, rolling the small bundle of nerves between his fingers while he kissed and suckled on the other. He could feel her body twitching, breaths hitching before escaping her along the way, and he wished only that he could hear them. Hear her voice, and the way it called to him. The skin flushed beneath her touch, and for a moment he prayed they could stay like this. That morning would never come, and that this moment could last forever.

Moments would pass, the make-shift bed shifting beneath their weight as he released the nipple of he toyed with with a pop. He kissed the skin underneath it, before inching lower in a manner all too careful. He'd heard of people trying their hand at eating their partners out for the first time, but some part of him worried he'd make a mess of it. For her, though, he was far more willing to try. Further and further he wandered, reaching her navel before both hands shifted down to meet them. He urged her legs apart, an audible hum sounding from him as he nestled himself between them. He knew the basic anatomy, that wasn't where he struggled, and finding the clitoris wasn't half as hard as he'd originally thought. He kissed the area gently, lifting his head for a moment before doing the same to her thighs. When he lowered himself back down, he introduced his tongue instead, allowing it to press and roll against it.

"Don't get me wrong," The man admitted "First couple of weeks I was here I was ready to do everything I could to bust out... But, after like the eighth time I tried? I decided to just take a moment to actually look at the people that work here... Turns out, a lot of them are pretty nice and a lot of them had backgrounds just like me".

Turning himself, he crossed his legs and faced the hedgehog with a small smile, happy that he had managed to get even a few words out of him. God knows, meeting Rose first thing since getting here was probably not the best first impression. But he hoped to prove the cold woman was the exception, not the norm.

"Before I got here, I used to work bank heists and drug smuggling," He explained "My ability made it easy and, to be honest, I wasn't exactly brought up being told I could do or be much else... But eventually, I got caught. And that got me sent here. I was pissed... And this place didn't give me the best first impression; same as you". The man took a moment to glance over to the mirror, knowing the man behind it was most likely feeling more than a little sheepish. "But," He continued "As time went on, people here taught me there were other ways I could use my ability... Ways that could help others and help make the world a little safer for the people in my life I wanted to protect. If I wanted to make changes to the world, this was the best place to do it".

The man tilted his head down, a quiet prompt for the hedgehog to look him in the eyes as he smiled.

"I'm sorry that your first impression was like mine," He said softly "But, if you're willing to take a second one... I'd like to try and change your mind by showing you around a little? Though, first things first".

The man moved his hands towards Shadow, slowly holding them out with his palms up, motioning the other to give his hands to him. Once Shadow had done so, Lyle placed his thumbs upon both dampeners on his wrists. After a moment, a small buzz sounded as a small sensor scanned Lyle's fingerprints and in one quick movement; the cuffs unlocked, clattering to the ground before them.

The hedgehog's head lifted with a start, the metal around his wrists clinking. Some part of him wanted to challenge him, to tell him that if he meant what he said then binding him wouldn't be necessary. In the end, he chose not to bother with it. There was no way they were going to risk him wrecking havoc in a place designed specifically for creatures far stronger than he could imagine. That's all he could guess, because this place was far colder and stricter than the prison he'd been placed in prior. His ears twitched, a small glance cast toward the two-way mirror on the opposite side of the room. He could sense the people there, though he could hardly see them, and for a moment he thought of the man that spoke to him before. He didn't much care for him, but he hadn't hated him either. Not any more than he hated the rest of them, at least. What it boiled down to was an inherent need to be left alone, though because of what he was... who he was, no such luck would find him. Pity from one where he found none in the other didn't really matter much.

Two red eyes met Lyle's own, and for a moment he seemed to consider it. He didn't know what floor he was on, but from what the man had told him the system here was a simple one. The lower, the more risk, the higher? Well, equal risk, but you can be trusted to use what you have to help others. That's what he'd done toward the end, and for a moment he thought of Sonic. He was cheerful, had a zest for life, and while it exhausted him to think about he also found it oddly endearing. Not that he'd ever think to share that with him, or anyone here. "Sure..." What harm could it do? It would get him out of this room at the very least, and that's more freedom than he'd been allowed in quite some time. Glancing to the small metal around his wrists, he sighed, slowly easing himself to his feet. The vast majority of this he could predict. He'd be walked around the block like a dog and then found himself thrust back into containment?

Right?

Before he could register what Lyle said, he felt it. One small buzz and the metal around his wrists had fallen from his wrist and onto the clinical tile behind him. The response from him was visible, a low blink before looking down at his hands with something akin to confusion. The urge to run was there, to fight, but... Looking at the agent then, it would have been clear to him then that he'd made more progress with him than anyone in his life had. A clawed hand rubbed one of his wrists, wincing gently at the bruises forming under his skin. His shoulders rolled and, when he finally looked up, one might have thought him braced to attack. Instead, a small, "Okay," before nodding toward the door. "Lead the way."

He stared up at Morgott, icy blue eyes nearly glassy as they stared into the golden eyes above him. His breath came in soft pants, the simple walk into the arena seeming to have taken it out of him. He waited, waited for the rising of Morgott's weapon to strike him down, to end this. And yet, it never came. Instead, he watched as his opponent set down his weapon and kneeled before him in kindness. It was a sight that caused Varden to close his eyes, the pain of guilt beginning to settle in his chest. So close the pair had become, it wasn't fair of him to betray the King in this way. But if he could not bring change in this life, perhaps his next would be kinder.

He flinched slightly, his eyes snapping open once he felt the presence of Morgott's hand upon his face. His touch was gentle, loving; the complete opposite of everything the Omen had once described. He took in a shaky breath, his heart daring to leap in hope as the King spoke to him then; raising a hand to rest upon the back of the Omen's own. If this was to be their last meeting, then he wanted to have tried everything before it came to death.

Perhaps this was his punishment.

He had wandered too far, said too much, and had only himself to blame. The Knight before him may well have had a chance of winning and, for a brief moment, he found himself wishing that he could. Kill him was the one thing he could no do, would not do, and some part of him already knew it.

Mother... Why have you forsaken me so?

Between them, a moment's silence. A war fought within a creature bestowed with only one purpose. Who was he to forsake it? Could he? And why was it that he considered it now? For him? His gaze was soft, those knotted fingers spreading before inviting the Knight's own to fall between them. He hadn't even realised he'd done it, merely seeking for a moment's closeness through it all. Until he heard those words. That one word that answered his question.

My dear...

What will you choose?

The Omen's eyes held his own. It was an intense moment, one that shared openly the struggle the demi-god held. He studied him, almost seeming to search for something, before his eyes closed. That hand, heavy and rough, pressed itself to his cheek. There was a firmness there, a finality. One might have thought it the kind that meant goodbye. His head lowered, forehead pressing to the man's own, and something within him rumbled.

I forsake thee, Marika

Morgott stood, towering over the man by several feet. The hand resting atop his cheek looped itself around his back, the other wrapping itself beneath his legs. In mere moments he'd found himself lifted, and he was secured from the world. He held him close to his chest, closer than he thought one of his kind could, and carried him. Down the steps of the arena, and to the small chambers beyond.

As you have forsaken us all

The man's body was lowered, the sheets beneath him crumpling. The bed was almost three times his size, and softer than one might have thought imaginable. He looked even smaller now that he had mere moments prior, a large tail sweeping behind him as he worked through a stack of books. Behind them was a satchel with potions aplenty, but those were not what he sought. A small seal given to him by a friend, a comrade, one that he had kept. He inched forward, kneeling by the man's side. Raising it, he pressed it to the man's head.

From it, a golden light. It was warm, all consuming. It healed him plenty, but not enough, and as he the man began to drift (whether from pain or blood loss it mattered little) he opted for the next best thing. In his hands, a great rune. One he could hone for himself, though he'd never felt the urge to. He broke it, letting the pieces fall onto the man's skin. It healed him, piece by piece, until only the broken armour remained.

When he awoke, he would find the Omen sitting by the bed with his head resting atop it. He, too, had drifted, though he seldom dreamt. His armour had been removed, and naked though he was it was clear he hadn't been harmed. A thin blanket was draped across him, testament to the care taken after his choice.

The fallen leaves tell a story.

A gentle moan escaped her, hips twitching against his fingers as it met with her clit; the small bud sensitive still from her lingering orgasm. Her head tilted, exposing more of her neck to his wandering lips; the hair of his beard tickling her skin and drawing from her a pleasant hum. She hadn't expected this, for him to handle her with such confidence and precision. But she was living for it, every touch of his hands and kiss to her skin drawing her further under his spell.

"Mm," Hewg hummed thickly, lips now mere inches from her ear. His free hand, the one he was not teasing her with, reached for her thighs to spread it that little bit further. He urged her to lean back, to all but melt against him, the tip of his arousal gently squeezing past her slit while he teased her. He kept it there, squeezing at the skin of her thigh rather firmly. Just enough to add to the sensation, but not hard enough to leave a bruise. Bruises were not welcome, not for their first time.

The pressure to her clitoris increased, but the rhythm didn't change. It was slow but unrelenting, the kiss exchanged between them heavy. In most instances he'd have asked her not to touch him, to let him please her until he had his fill. This wasn't the first she'd yearned for him though, and that on its own was enough to make his heart swell. His weighed shift, the very arousal she reached from between her fingers before slipping back up. It was flawed, a slight curve in it that most would have found intimidating. Thick as it was long, there was more texture than most could handle, and some part of him prayed she would tell him if he hurt her along the way. After all, it was that which worried him most.

He built the pleasure slowly. Added to the sensation by letting the hand cupping her thigh creep up and continue fondling her breasts. He pinched one of the nipples, chin falling against her shoulder as he peered down. He wanted to see what he was doing, look at her hips as they twitched and inched toward his hand. How delicious. How beautiful. He'd see her climax through, fingers continuing to roll through her orgasm. This one was hers, just as the one had been prior, and once she'd began to come down he slipped his fingers lower. One might have thought he was attempting to delve in again but, after wandering for a moment, he brought them to his lips. His tongue curled, lapping at them hungrily as if it were something that he craved.

"How beautiful you are," he spoke finally, and this time his voice was different. It was far deeper, filled with more gravel than before, and were one to look into his eyes then they would have been met only with lust. Should those doors open and someone walk in, he'd take her right in front of them. He cared not, would stall not, and let their eyes bulge in the process. They could be dealt with after the fact, though he was sure few would have been stupid enough.

That same hand shifted through her hair, pushing those gorgeous red curls from the back of her neck. He let his lips press to the skin instead, fingers inching themselves down her arms before nestling back between her thighs. It was his own arousal they found, fingers pressing to the tip before angling it slightly. The tip, slightly sharper and more pointed than most, inserted itself first. Wet as she was, there was lubrication aplenty. Inch by inch, and no more, allowing her to go at her own pace.

She hoped that he did.

With lips pressed gently to his, she let herself go. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, body begging for a closeness she had long been denying herself. The warmth of his body against his bringing her comfort she thought herself unworthy of. If it were possible to stop time, she might have done so, if only to capture this perfect instance and to replay it over and over. She wanted not only to commit the sight of it to memory, but the feeling also. The shape of his arms, the light scratch of his stubble against her face; the calloused fingers in her own.

She wanted to remember everything.

Rocky's sudden question had her pulling back in both surprise and embarrassment, thankful the Eridian couldn't make out colours or he would see how red her face was. She turned her eyes away, as though Rocky were peering into her soul, despite having no eyes. How could something with no face appear so judgemental at times?

"Um..." She cleared her throat "It's called a kiss... It's something humans do when they're mates, I guess... At least, that kind of kiss is more reserved for mates...".

Ryland sighed, a single hand falling to her hips as he looked away. His lips were red, testament to how intense the kiss had been, but that wasn't why he'd done it. Some part of him was disappointed, though he knew better than to think Rocky was to blame for it. Anyone this touch-starved would have been sad to feel the one thing they craved be taken away, though he supposed now that the woman knew they might find time enough to do things like this. At least until...

It's called a kiss...

The microbiologist's head turned, that same hand resting atop her hips shifting to reach for his glasses. He adjusted them, clearing his throat gently both in surprise and understanding. It wasn't something the Eridian knew about, and he'd been just as curious about some of the things he did. His brain wandered, questions swirling in his mind about how they showed affection amongst each other.

"It's usually a private thing, bud," said Ryland, his chin falling to rest atop the woman's shoulders. He'd practically pulled her onto his lap, and he almost wish he'd taken that extra step. Rocky hummed audibly, fingers tapping as he swayed from side to side.

"Humans weird," Rocky said.

"You know you keep saying that, but now I gotta know what affection between Eridian's looks like."

Rocky chirped again, the same happy musical notes emanating from him.

"Beautiful," he said. "Share organic material. Like this."

Ryland blinked, watching Rocky reach for the same crevice he used to eat. While nothing was withdrawn, the intent became pretty clear.

"Nnn-" His breath hitched, a soft gasp as his hips pushed up against Raymond's mouth, one webbed hand moving to entangle into his dark locks. His touch was gentle, almost uncertain, fingers trembling from stimulation as his pleasure grew. And as Raymond's hands cupped under his rear he let out a choked groan, his head falling back briefly. The way the man handled him, with such care but such control, was like an art and he his scaled canvas. His breath hitched once more, the palm scrambling at the fabric of the sofa gently caught by Raymond's own. He was panting, core tightening, hips twitching and hands trembling. His lips pressed tight into a broken whine, before finally his hips began to shake and his release began to spill into the warmth of Raymond's mouth.

His voice came in a broken moan, body hunching forward and shoulders trembling as his heat spilled. His hands curled and tightened in their grip, one curling around Raymond's hand and the other gently tugging upon his hair. Even in this state of complete release, his touch was gentle, as though even now part of him desired to treat the other with such care.

With hips still trembling, Abe's body fell back, head laying over the arm of the sofa as his chest rose and fell with each panting breath. His third eyelid blinked audibly several time and the gills at his neck twitched as though searching for more oxygen.

"I... That was..." He tried, a quiet hum interrupting him as a shiver of residual pleasure ran through him "...Wow".

Raymond hummed audibly, tongue curling around the tip of his arousal one last time. He could feel him twitching, bracing for what was to come, and the moment his orgasm ravaged him he swallowed audibly in turn. The hand Abe held was squeezed, a comforting gesture aiming to keep him grounded, while the other drew a sharp grunt from him. Having his hair pulled had always been something he enjoyed, and at his hand it tasted that much sweeter.

Only once the pleasure had subsided did he release him with a pop, tongue prodding at the small opening before inching up. His hand withdrew, pulling itself from his rear while the other freed itself from his grasp. "You can say that again," the man told him, his voice thick and filled with gravel. A calloused thumb traced the edge of his lips, gathering what little remained. He lapped it up, a soft "don't want any of it going to waste," escaping him before he began to kiss his way back up. He started at his navel, inching up his front before shifting his weight. He was perched up on his elbows, lips travelling up the front of his neck before gracing the agent's own. It was feather-light at first, fleeting, those green eyes fixed intently on his partner's own. He was drinking in the sight of him, memorising it all, and as the tips of their noses brushes gently together he kissed him properly.

Except this one was different.

There was need there, want. That hadn't gone away, and the soft twitch of his own arousal against Abe's own was testament to that. In the moments that followed, though, there was tension. Love in its rawest of forms. Had one asked him before, told him that he'd love someone some day, he'd have waved them off. There was no one in the world for him, no one that would as much as cast him a fleeting glance. Not if they knew what he did, or that he didn't know how he could do it. Yet here he was.

The kiss broke several moments later, not wanting to leave the man beneath him devoid of air. He, too, was panting audibly; his forehead lowering as another kiss was pressed to the side of his cheek. God damn. He thought it, but there was no way in hell he could say it. Or at least he thought he couldn't.

"I love you," he whispered, and for a moment it sounded all too vulnerable. A calloused thumb, positioned as he was, traced the side of his cheek. His arousal twitched against him a second time, but he was in no rush. Well and truly, in this moment, he would have been content to just kiss him. Hold him.

"Pomni..." She breathed, brows furrowing as she wondered just how confused she must have been by her presence, how frightening it might have been. She thought to reveal their abstracted friend, Jax, to tell her that he had known her secret. But the group had been through enough confusion and pain in regards to him. Perhaps, this was the one thing she could keep from them, at least for now.

Her eyes snapped back to Caine, the feeling of his gloved hand upon hers allowing her to finally let out the breath she had been holding. His saddened expression, it broke her heart; her lip starting to tremble slightly as he spoke. She couldn't imagine how confusing this was for him. As an AI, he had strict rules about how his world worked and she had shattered almost all of them.

The music of the ball slowed before falling silent, the group far more focused on the pair in front of them; Zooble standing next to Gangle in wonder as Kinger peeked from under his bucket in awe.

"It's difficult to explain but..." She glanced back to the group "I am human but not at the same time... I discarded my body using an ancient ritual, magic, doing so turned my body into pure energy, able to adapt to any environment. Coming here, that energy became code, that's why you were able to sense me, Caine".

"W-Wait, magic?" Zooble gawked, crossing their mismatched arms "You expect us to believe magic exists?".

"How else would she have gotten here?" Gangle asked, turning her mask up to the other "Caine didn't know she was here, so she couldn't be a brain scan...".

"I- F*@%, I don't know, but-" Zooble was at a loss for words, trying to come to terms with what they'd just heard.

"I know it's hard to grasp," Anna said, shoulders taught as she felt the stress from the others "But, it's true...".

"But, why?" Kinger finally spoke, a worried gaze appearing from under his bucket as he stepped closer "Why would you want to leave your human life behind?".

Magic.

The word hung in the air, and the silence between them was palpable. It had always been of interest to him as a topic, the very nature of what he did involving sleight of hand of some kind. From the response she was getting from the rest of those attending, though, he assumed that wasn't the kind of magic she was talking about. Mentions of rituals, the discarding of human flesh, it didn't sit right with him. Looking at him then, one might have thought him disgusted. Angry that he'd been lied to and evaded for so long. As those mismatched eyes darted back and forth in thought, though, he realised he was neither.

What he felt was guilt.

The AI flinched. What words she used to describe her life perfectly encapsulated the experience everyone had upon first entering. He wasn't stable then, had been far more focused on controlling everything instead of accommodating the people that he cared for. Some part of him almost wished that he was being lied to again, because then she would have had someone. Some solace from the darkness that she ran from, even if it had followed her here. Had he been more open, more approachable, could all of this have been avoided? Could he have spared the pain of what she'd witnessed and the fear she'd felt while she kept herself isolated and in hiding?

She kissed the ringmaster, caring little for how messy it was as she stood and stumbled into his body; trusting him to guide her. Her fingers curled at his collar, his clothing part of his body; as she had come to understand it. But, she was surprised to see that the very bowtie that lay there, so pristine and perfect, had come undone. Had it always been able to do that?

She found her question answered soon after she was pulled into Kinger's embrace, her back to his chest as she leaned back and enjoyed the show Caine had planned for her. It seemed his design changes ran deeper than she had imagined, his ringmaster uniform discarded and his skin a dark shade of black. It suited him, the sight drawing a gentle gasp from her; her thighs threatening to clench together at his musing voice.

"Very..." She breathed, reaching out to draw her fingers down the length of his chest, pressing briefly to his stomach and biting her lip in thought of how it might feel against hers "You two certainly have been busy... Makes a girl feel special...". She noted the binary in his skin, a thought that brought her a smile. How it suited him... How handsome he looked.

Though, she could hardly forget Kinger, his heat twitching visibly between her thighs. Chuckling, she drew her hand around it, giving it a few slow and arduous strokes, drawing her thumb across its tip and rubbing gently at the vein beneath.

Now stripped of his clothing and standing before her in all his glory, he allowed her a chance to look. To touch him should she want to, while he touched her in turn. His right hand first to make contact, jaw furrowing gently as it made contact with her skin. Removing his clothes had been something he'd always been able to do, but it left him feeling exposed and remarkably different. So often he carted the outfit he was known for that he seldom thought to change it, and he too had started to believe it had fused with his skin. He wondered if she thought he hid it, and he reminded himself to have that conversation with her later. For now, he focused on her expression instead, the flowing numbers both similar to the feeling of skin while carrying with them the sensation similar to that of a limb going numb. He'd put his gloves back on if she needed him to but, as his arousal twitched and his hand wandered down the side of his neck, he began to doubt it would be necessary.

From behind her, Kinger hummed. His lips made contact with the back of her shoulder, kissing what areas of exposed skin he could find. Her hair - long and curly - felt almost soothing against the rippled wood she sat perched against, and that on its own was enticing. He could feel Caine lowering, his figuring looming in the most exciting of ways, and as that binary hand travelled down her neck he could feel his own arousal twitching between the Banshee's thighs. He shifted, allowing the tip to brush against the sensitive bundle of nerves they'd been assaulting earlier. Lower his hand would travel, coming to rest atop her hips so he could guide them. He helped her lift them gently, not thinking to interrupt the moment shared between then, and slowly slipped himself in.

Caine kissed her while he did so, that smooth tongue of his rolling against the Banshee's own. Every moan that escaped her he stole and kept for himself, the very hand shifting to tease her breasts. Kinger and he were working like a well-oiled machine, this part coming almost naturally under the pawn's guidance. He could see him thrusting, his partner's weight shifting gently and, soon enough, he was hovering atop them both. His own arousal twitched against her abdomen, a delicious moan escaping him as it inched down. Kinger held still, allowing him a moment to prepare the woman for what was to come.

The tip was the first to insert, and his jaw clenched firmly at the friction. Kinger's arousal was harder than his own, and just as pleasant to grind up against. Most pleasant of all was being nestled inside her, soft whispers urging her to relax as he kissed the front of her neck to distract her. It was a sensual moment, was shared only between the two of them despite Kinger's presence. His hips juttered, and for a moment he seemed to lose confidence. The pleasure was intense, far more so than he was used to, and as Kinger shifted and he felt one of his hands rest atop his own he groaned. He began inching forward again until, finally, their hips were flush together. Both KInger and he had filled her to the brim, knots and textures of various kinds caressing every inch of her sensitive walls.

There was no rush, no demand, only the feel of his feathers beneath her fingers. What hunger was felt would be satiated in time.

Saoirse's leg raised, parting the Cerulean's legs and pressing her thigh against his twitching arousal; grinding it gently against the priming length. She pulled from the kiss only to nip playfully at his ear, a breathless laugh soon muffled by their lips meeting once more. She urged herself ever closer, breasts pressed to Rovender's chest and her leg providing him a pleasant friction.

The pair of them seemed to have abandoned thought or worry about the other's anatomy, only focused on exploring, wandering and touching.

Gods... The Rovender he knew would have had a hard time believing this was possible. Setting how nice this felt aside, sharing a moment's intimacy with another after the death of his wife hadn't even remotely crossed his mind. How could it, when he had been the one responsible for their loss? So much pain, so much grief, yet in this moment it mattered little. There was only her, and not even he could conjure to mind a sight as beautiful as this. He counted her freckles, the dim lighting of the room allowing for it, and ran his fingers through her curls. Each kiss he returned with equal amounts of enthusiasm, soft pants rising from him until her leg came to rest between his own.

"Ah..."

The friction was pleasant, and the more she moved it the more pleasure he could feel. Her nip to his ear only enhanced it, the sensitive nature of the area she'd just attacked drawing a soft whimper followed by a hum. His fingers wandered down her back, pausing only once they'd reached her rear. So little he knew about the woman and her anatomy that he seemed content exploring, those same fingers drifting back up to trace a familiar scar running down her back. His touch grew gentler still, not wanting to hurt her.

In response to his name, a hum. A thick one, and the more she moved the more she seemed to arouse him. He could feel himself nestled between her thighs, and for a moment he urged them to close. For them to lock around him, albeit for a moment. He shifted upward, the tip slipping past her lips before brushing against her core.

Uh-oh.

Hellboy’s lips parted, a small choked noise sounding from before it closed and he could do little more than wordlessly look to Abe. And Abe, for all intents and purposes, was doing his best impression of an actual fish, his own mouth opening and closing in wonder at the woman’s sudden outburst. Both of them had tensed, as though expecting the woman might explode at any minute. And, usually, that was the case. However, as the pair reminded themselves that this was not their usual pyrokinetic crash out, they relaxed.

“Oh my God,” The medic groaned, her head leaning back and rolling her eyes “Girl, that is not your friend, that’s an accident waiting to happen”.

“Sounds like you got experience.” Hellboy snorted, raising an eyebrow as he eyed the young medic.

“Don’t get me started, Red,” The woman shook her head, handing Trish a napkin to wipe the blood from her lips “University was cliquey as hell. You ask me, that Joseph guy can keep her”.

Red, in fact, did not get her started.

Demons, mythological beings and Gods? That he could handle, that he knew. The way women worked? He had conceded that battle long ago and had no interested in starting it up again. Instead, he settled for raising his hands up in surrender and leaving it at that.

Abe was, characteristically silent. He knew just as much as Red to know that silence was probably the correct action, if not the least incorrect.

He spoke when spoken to.

“Ah, yes,” His dark eyes turned to Trish, a small smile forming as he introduced himself “Abraham Sapien, or Abe, if you prefer… As for where we’re going? We’re headed back to base”.

“The Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence,” The medic answered “Or B.P.R.D for short”.

As though to drive the point home, Hellboy tapped upon his chest at the black t-shirt he wore, the shape of a hand holding a sword printed onto it. “We fight monsters,” The demon almost beamed, a grin on his large face “You guys get to have your morning Starbucks in peace. Well, mostly”.

He thought back to the demon slug case… He couldn’t look at a latte for weeks after that.

“We take you back, get you patched up, go through the regular non-disclosures ‘I did not see a ghost dog or a big red monkey’ yadda-yadda-yadda,” Hellboy rolled his eyes as he spoke, already hearing the lecture he was going to receive from Manning for bringing a civilian back to base “And that’s it”.

"Abraham," she mused, the name rolling off her tongue in a manner all too pleasant. Looking at them then, she couldn't help but wonder what they were. How they came to be, though she knew better than to ask them. There was nothing she hated more than the human urge to other those around them, pinpointing every little difference and making it a flaw. She had more than enough experience with that. "It suits you, actually."

And truly, it did.

Hellboy and Abe. She could work with that. The concept of an organisation built specifically around defending humanity from the paranormal, though? That one was harder to process.

She used to love scary stories when she was a kid. Odd, thinking back, but she wasn't exactly what the world would consider normal. Then again, who was really? There were hundreds of people like her, maybe even more, each beautiful in their own way. She only wished her autism diagnosis came with a side of math-genius, though. What she'd been landed with instead was the urge to learn all about ancient torture methods and various states of decomposition, which for most that was a little too much. Her brain was built on logic, the need to analyse the world around her and break down into chunks she could understand. But the paranormal? That part fucked her up, and one could tell.

"Monsters..."

Saying it felt... wrong. The monsters she knew didn't lurk in the shadows, they never had. They were always in the limelight, donning designer clothes and partying with men like Joseph. She'd spent years trying to teach herself that she could let go. That she didn't need to be that hypervigilant, and that danger didn't really lurk around every corner. But here, in this van, she couldn't truly say she believed that anymore. They might not have lurked around every corner, but they could be found in some. Somehow, that was worse.

"My brother usually helps me with paperwork," she said, glancing up at Red and Abe both. Her humour seemed to have subsided, the pain starting to wear her down. Her phone buzzed audibly, and she once again ignored it. Whoever it was, they could wait. She wasn't even sure she could answer the call right now, especially in a situation as secure and private as this. They didn't tell her off for still having it on, though, and for that she seemed thankful. "I'm... happy to do it myself, but I might need some help understanding what's being asked. And thank you, by the way. I don't know if I said that before, but..."

The B.P.R.D.

If this government body was truly this well hidden, her father might not have gotten his hands on it yet. Were she lucky, he might never get his hands on it at all. She clung to that hope, the tension in her shoulders relaxing visibly. She could feel the van beneath them slowing, the hand she still had free reaching for the small bag by her feet. It had stopped buzzing, and when she checked she found several missed calls from her supposed friend. There was not an apology to be found among them, but there was an invitation to a party run by one of the most prestigious families in town. One she knew the girl wouldn't have been invited to simply by stumbling across it.

Erica: I can see you're opening my messages. You're not actually mad that I left, are you? I figured you knew your way back.

Read.

Erica: Come on, don't be like that.

Read.

Erica: It's not like either of us got hurt. Can I at least have some money for an Uber?

Read.

She thought of her father, the only true monster she knew, and turned the phone off. Cillan had her location, and she didn't want him being able to track it. He'd already been dragged into more than enough because of her, the last thing he wanted was him having to sign a non-disclosure agreement of his own. Erica could wait, though she doubted she'd ever really want to speak to her again.

"What's it like?" she asked, another soft smile cast in the medic's direction when she helped her to her feet. They'd arrived, though it was dark enough for her not be able to see much past the large metal gates closing several feet away. Inching closer to the exit, she reached for Abe's hand, a small request for help to step out. Her legs were hardly working, beads of sweat forming on her forehead despite her willing them gone. "Working here? Fighting creatures like that?"

She wanted to know how they did it. How they were able to live and navigate a world that always fought against them. Humans most of all, though she hoped never to be one of them. Her fingers were delicate against Abe's, a soft squeeze to them in thanks. Were there some secret to it then maybe it could benefit her, too. Maybe she could kill her own monsters in time.

Thunder clapped above them. It was audible, and when she looked up she couldn't help but marvel at the clouds as they lit up. "I used to think God was angry when it stormed," she whispered, a soft smile playing on her lips. It was a thought that comforted her, and as she turned to Hellboy she glanced to the hand that still held her silver cross. Her brows furrowed, easing herself onto the small wheelchair without much protest. Though she wanted to, she knew better than to think she could make the walk from the van to the building the bureau resided in. Something was off, a feeling all too fleeting as the wheelchair turned and the two men walked by her side. She would listen to them speak, answer her question with keen interest, but try as she might she couldn't shake that this might be the last time she saw them. Not that she'd tell them. It was shock, probably.

Thwack!

A sudden spark of pain ricocheted through her forehead and caused her to hiss. It wasn't searing, as her headache had been previously, but it was enough to bring her spiralling mind back from the brink. Amber eyes blinked, watching the Cerulean's hand retreat before reaching for her bag. Had he... Just flicked her forehead?

She thought back to the gesture, how it mirrored the very one she had given Eva-Nine. For a moment, she almost smiled, her lips curling up just slightly as she huffed and looked away. It seemed that even in her wisdom, the woman wasn't keen in taking her own advice. But, then again, wasn't that an issue bordering on universal?

When she looked back, she had expected Rovender to wander back to his place by the fire, somehow still surprised that he had opted to settle next to her. Her lips parted, a question lingering on them as she watched him elevate his leg. Why? She wanted to ask. But she thought better of it, merely letting her head fall back against Otto's carapace and sighing softly.

She was too tired to fight.

She turned her cheek as instructed, whining just a touch as the cool cloth touched her face. She knew the cold was best for her fever but it felt like ice. Her body shuddered slightly, jaw clenching with a grunt of pain as she willed it to settle, the ache of her prosthetics protesting with every shake. Her eyes closed, brows furrowed as he wiped the last of her sweat away. She was exhausted, but the very idea of sleeping filled her with an all too familiar dread.

He drew comfort in knowing he'd been able to help, albeit temporarily. He'd forgotten what that felt like - being of use - and upon scolding her gently as a father would a child it became clear that he did have a bit of a soft spot for them. Rough around the edges though he seemed, even he could understand that this wasn't a predicament they had chosen to be in. They had been at the wrong place at the wrong time and, as a result of being different, had found themselves a target. He thought of the small village he'd agreed to take them to, a fleeting exchange between himself and Eva-Nine making it seem as though that was the best course of action. He was heading that way anyway and upon arriving they would part ways.

Rovender hummed, a gentle hand patting Otto's side. He was trying to curl up, restricting not only the mechanic's movements but his own. Even now, he couldn't help but find himself in awe of what the girl had accomplished. Befriending a water-bear was an achievement in and of itself, though he still found himself uncertain on whether or not he could trust it. He kept his touch light, a soft hum drawn from him at her remark. His eyes softened, wiping the last of her sweat away before folding the small rag and slipping it back into his back. He'd wash it when they found water, but for now this would have to do.

"But you must..."

The words left him with ease, and for a moment there was kinship. He understood not wanting to sleep, little as he knew about what she'd been through, but her body could no longer handle being awake. Had she nightmares of her own, memories waiting her behind those tired eyes, then he'd be sure to wake her. Soothe her, as he wished someone would soothe him.

"I will wake you if you have another," he said, leaning his own head back against Otto. His leg was throbbing, and he knew in that moment that sleep would not come. It wasn't the first nor the last that sleep would elude him, though for her sake he would pretend. Were she as observant as him then it could be something they discussed come morning, but...

He began to hum.

A lullaby he sung to his children when they were still with him. Eva-Nine heard it too, further away though she was, and as her own eyes grew hooded it seemed it still had the same effect. It was in his own language, though the words were translated clearly. He continued to hum even once the woman had fallen asleep, silence gripping their camp only once he was sure she'd settled.

Some time passed, the sun slowly beginning to rise. Eva-Nine was the first to wake, though from the bags under her eyes it was clear she hadn't slept as much as she needed to. She walked silently their way, her hand coming to rest on Otto's snout.

"Is she okay?" she whispered, nodding to the mechanic still resting by his side.

Rovender looked her way, ears twitching as he checked her breathing.