The Darker Side of Nothing.

"Emotion, is beautiful." He spoke delicately and stepped to the bar, placing a coin down a drink appeared. It was clear and odorless. Picking it up he handed it to her. "Drink this. It helps to relive old memories, some perhaps even forgotten." He placed this beverage called Melvin's Escape. It reacted to the tastbuds in such a way, it brought back old loved taste's of food and drink.

He would wrap the kerchief away and Stowe it into his pocket as he settled in a somber silence at his table. His blue eyes, lingered on her for a moment before they shifted to a dull grey. A subtle sigh escaped his nostrils as his jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightened slightly and he turned away.

The storm outside illuminated his form, as lightning flashed and lingered for moments a light glowed beautifully upon him. As it faded, darkness remained in its place. The sky looked as if night was falling, though the sun rested high, above the clouds. The shadows of the cascading droplets on the window's glass caused silhouettes against his soft face's surface. They making it difficult to tell if he too produced tears, that trickled warmly, innocently down his cheeks. (Sorry for typos)
 
She smiled and hesitantly took a sip of the new drink. She could taste her father's deer meat stew on her tongue and she shed another tear and continued to drink, wanting more of that stew, the stew he kept secret even from her, so she has been unable to reproduce it exactly. A warmth spread through her as she did so, practically filling up on the stew flavor. She knew of this beverage and wondered if the legends were true, and she saw that they were.

Finishing the glass, she sighed and looked at the incubi. Maybe all incubi weren't bad, but unfortunately she's had one too many bad experiences with them.

She sat and pondered, braiding her hair as she did so.
 
"My mother's name was Agusti... Or so they tell me." He didn't dare to look at her. "She's the only one it could have been... I heard their quiet whispers, at night as I lay alone in my bed." He began tapping his finger on the table once more. Its tempo slow and persistent. "I never got the taste of flesh... Never saw the need. I taught myself to feast on dreams, but until I was old enough to replace them with happy thoughts I brought up on my own my entire town was plagued with nightmares..." His voice shook. "My family, the people who took me in knowing what it is I am... Were outcast and ostracized because of me." He grew angry for only moments. "And when bodies were found on those damn golden streets, they blamed me. My step father made me run from them... Made me safe. And that fucking king had them hanged..."

He sat then in silence, for what seemed like hours. His form shaking from either anger or silent sobs. Finally... He found the will to speak as he stood and headed slowly for the staircase. "All of it... My fault."
 
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"That sort of thing is never your fault," she said quietly, feeling the rage and hurt rolling off of him in waves. "That comes from the ignorance and stupidity of society."
 
"If I was never born... No one would have gotten hurt." He took a careful step onto the staircase and.climbed up slowly. Disappearing in the upper deck, a door slam would echo. Followed by near silence, except the gentle chatter of other patrons seeking shelter in the tavern's warmth.
 
His words echoing in her ear, she continued to sit and braid her hair, thinking about cutting it again. Sighing as it finished, she finished her ale and made her way to the room she was appointed to, feeling tired for the first time in two weeks. Knowing a nap would help, she took off her cloak and set it up on a hook. She then went over to the bed and crawled under the covers, not bothering to undress.
 
After calming he would lie on his bed. Feeling peckish his would close his eyes, and slip now so effortlessly into his dream state. His mindical fetch would pick and pluck only seconds from the five sleeping persons dreams, until he crossed one with a familiarness. He knew instantly... who they belonged to, and stood on the edge of her consciousness... wanting to, but not wanting to feed.
 
She fell asleep effortlessly, exhausted from the days events. She could sense another presence in the dreamworld, but she didn't pay much attention as she dreamed.
 
Deciding against it, he bound to her mind a single image. Darkness clouded her dream for just moments, and out of this darkness grew a single white rose.
 
She woke up a few hours later, pondering the dream she had. Dark clouds and out of them, a white rose grew and blossomed. Sighing, she contemplated the meaning of it.

White. . . white symbolized purity, innocence. . . a rose. . . symbolizing romance, or a connection. . . dark clouds. . .

Shaking her head, she got up and washed her face, her violet eyes alone betraying her thoughts. For a few moments, she wondered what the incubi was thinking.
 
He had long since made his way down to the tavern's floor. His form resting carefully in a chair. It tilted back against the wall. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and his feet propped on a table.
 
She finally made her way down the stairs and sat at her place at the bar, placing down coin to get some more ale. She saw the incubi and made a small nod in his direction, but no further contact.
 
Sighing softly he decided distance was best. Closing his blue eyes, he would hum a slow, cheerful Celtic tune. His fingers tapping softly along.
 
She heard the familiar Celtic tune, and absentmindedly she began tapping her foot against her stool in time to the music, humming it softly herself, a tear leaving her eye as she was once again reminded of her father.
 
Sitting quietly as the pretty little lass with the weary expression spoke softly. Angus listened attentively as he uncrossed his arms, soulful steel grey eyes calmly meet her gaze, reaching for his money pouch. With his right hand opens it withdrawing a coin to toss on the table. Two glasses of Scotch had appeared between them, lifting the drink closest him to the little lass, as she reveals what she was. "To being different...be boring if folk were all alike hmm?''
 
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A blush, just the lightest shade of pink would touch her cheeks. A single black curl would cascade down into her face, and not bothering to push it away she would take the cool glass in her hands. Lifting it carefully she would drink slowly from it. A small tremble danced through her body as it filled her with a warmth. A smile, simple and gentle crossed her lips, exposing the tiny dimple to the right of her nose.

She began speaking softly, "Thank you...It is strange, to have two people unknown to share drinks... That being said, people call me Ivy. Though my name Ivory... I am glad I was given the chance to meet your acquaintance. Your soft tones, and mild manners are, nearly arousingly refreshing." She would allow a small laugh to leave her lips. It arid and purely jovial.
 
As the blush lightly colors her cheeks, Angus reaches hesitantly to brush the curl back with a finger. Withdrawing his hand from her face slowly, a tiny trace of a crooked smile curls upon his lips. Taking his glass in his large callused hand, lifts it to his lips and downs half of it's contents.

''You're quite welcome...aye Ivy pleased to meet you as well...I'm Angus.'' Placing the glass back on the table between them. ''I have never met a fury...before now that is.'' Reaching in a pocket he pulls out a sketch book ''Do you mind...it's a sketch book I like to draw.'' gesturing a bit with what's in his hand. A deeply rumbled chuckle escapes him being her soft laughter was contagious.
 
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Abruptly halting his hum, he would watch her. Curiosity flooded his mind. A sigh left him and he stood. Approaching her in silence his warm arms would embrace her mid section. Holding his breath, ready for any amount of harm that befell him as he pulled her close.
 
She would allow her breathing to stop until he pulled away. Her eyes flickered softly as she looked up at him. "I... I don't mind no." Her voice delicate, and arid. She pulled away in a reclusive mannor., unsure what to think of his straightforwardness.
 
She stiffened, unused to physical contact, but not sensing a threat, relaxed a little bit. She recognized the incubi's hands around her small midsection. "You know, I never did get your name," she noted. "And I did give you mine, so it's only fair, hmm?"
 
"Blithe." His voice broke softly. He allowed a warm pulsating to radiate from his body, its effect usually calming. He rested his chin atop her head. His heart beating slowly, rhythmically against her back.
 
"Pleasure to meet you, Blithe," she said honestly, thankful for the calming effect and she listened to the slow cadence of his heart, whilst hers sped up, why she did not know.
 
Gently he pressed his lips against her hair, his nose filling with her scent. His hands gently slid down to her thighs. Not trying to be seductive, just comforting.
Finding her soft hands in her lap, he slipped his own around them. They abrasive, but soft at the same time. "Breathe slower, you're heart is beating too fast..."

His voice danced slower now. "Close your eyes..."
 
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She did as he bade her, closing her eyes hesitantly and began to breathe slower. She enjoyed his hands around hers, the way his voice danced in her ears. Her heart still raced, but at a slower pace than it was as she relaxed.
 
"Just trust me..."

The tavern seemed to melt away from them. The cool freshness of the forest surrounded them. Soft chirps danced through their ears. It was was in her mind, he bound in gently and pulled her awareness inside.

It the most realistic dream ever... "What do you want most?" His voice spoke gently, delicately.
 
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