Wandering around Athens Part II

[Peter Sharpe]

Though excrutiatingly painful, Pete knew that he could be in a much worse situation. If Geoff had meant him harm, he wouldn't have found himself in a submission. As expected, after his temper cooled, he slowly released the pressure on Pete's arm, Once again turning his back to the party, pausing for dramatic effect before making his ultimatum. Though their views were diametrically opposed, and they were now mortal enemies, Geoff was right. Brothers shouldn't fight... couldn't fight. Brushing himself off as he rose to his feet, Pete called out to his brother as the man set off towards his car. "You'd better not stick around... there'll be hell to pay if anybody besides me finds you. I hope we don't meet again."

Following his brother's example, Pete turned back to his blonde companions, the sun's dying rays dancing mischeivously in his eyes. "Are we just going to let him get away?" Damien protested. Pete couldn't help but smirk. "I'm not sure what you mean Damien... he was never here." The looks of bewilderment from Damien and Adele quickly changed to looks of serene complacency as they met the gaze of Pete's grey-blue eyes. Very few beings had any inkling as to the extent of his lycanthropic powers, in fact, he had been careful as to not draw attention to them. Though he was sure that Alena knew full and well what gifts manifested themselves in their kind, she also kept many of these secrets to herself. He assumed that Pablo had known as well, judging by his reluctance to use the Lycan's mental link, and the lengths he'd gone to secure his own mind. Many Lycans had obtained the ability to mesmerize those they made eye contact with, but through extensive training, Pete had taken this one step further. Though incredibly taxing, often leaving him exhausted for days, he was able to pick through and manipulate the memories of those he'd mesmerized... or knocked unconscious. It was a gift that he only used in the most dire of situations... situations such as these. These two Lycans simply did not need to know of Geoff's whereabouts... the information could have dire consequences for both parties involved. So this information would simply have to disappear.

Laying the two down on the ground, he set to work, placing a palm on Adele's head. He furrowed his browns in concentration as he took the full brunt of the girl's subconcious into his own. Thousands upon thousands of thoughts, emotions, memories, screaming and flashing before his mind's eye. Most of it was incoherent, with only bits and pieces here and there making any real sense. As impressive as his abilities were, he'd accepted that it would likely take him centuries to be able to master the technique. What he was able to divine pained him as he experienced it firsthand. An abusive father, a neglectful mother, grief, agony, and anger. He wished that he could free her from the burden of these memories, but he also knew the consequences of too much meddling... alter one's past enough, and they become a different person entirely. But as the memories came closer and closer to the present, he found one small light in the overwhelming darkness that was her past. It felt... warm as it entered his mind, and he couldn't help but smile at this new found knowledge. Soon enough he'd found the memories of what had transpired that day, and eliminated them entirely, leaving his own manufactured memories in their place. As far as Adele was concerned, she had just gotten off the airplane last night, and she was experiencing the worst case of jet-lag anyone had ever known. Taking his hand off of the girl's head, he noticed just how taxing the process was on both parties... his hand was trembling as if he'd returned to the siberian wastelands with Pablo, and Adele, though still unconscious, seemed to be lost in a world of fitful dreams.

Cracking his knuckles, he once again knelt down next to the two, this time placing his palm on Damien's head. Pete had never entered the mind of a Lycan who was born with the gift before. It was strange, almost alien... but intriguing. It was almost as if he'd entered the mind of two completely separate entities that, although they shared the same body, were at odds with one another. The bestial side of damien's personality seemed to have lied dormant for some time, only to surface around his adolescence, when it quickly made it's presence known. Pete could feel the beast's searing rage, it's arrogence, and it's lust for blood and glory. Harder to find was Damien's other half, buried beneath the wolf's poisonous influence. Though certainly sharing in the beast's arrogence, there was also a deep-seated guilt. It felt almost as if Pete were drowning in it as he saw Damien's mother, beaten and bruised, desperately clinging to life as she told him of his true origins. Shaking himself free of the boy's past, he did to Damien's memories of the past day just as he did to Adele's. But before withdrawing completely, he decided to leave the smallest whisper in Damien's subconscious mind. Don't let what happened to Arai happen to her, Damien. The two unconscious lycans before him certainly had their fair share of misery. He hoped that they would be able overcome their pasts together...

By the time he'd finished his work, the sun had long sinced passed below the horizon, and he knew, judging from the difficulty he had standing up, that he was on the verge of collapsing. Summoning the last reserves of his strength, he threw one blonde of each shoulder, and made his way to Perrin's villa under the cover of darkness using Adele's memories. Unfortunately, avoiding well-lit and highly populated areas meant many long detours, and by the time he'd reached his destination, every muscle in his body screamed for relief. Not knowing exactly how to approach the situation, he reached out with his mind, searching for an individual that Adele's memory told him was named Alex, one of the caretakers that resided there. Obviously sensing his charge's presence and weakened state, he was at the entrance before Pete could consider an alternate means of entering. With the little time he knew he had before losing consciousness himself, he explained the situation to the man... that Adele was fine, and that Damien was indeed Perrin's son. Unable to fight off the darkness any longer, he left the two teens and himself in Alex's care.

[Adele Holst]

Laughter filled the dimly-lit area, giddy and unabashed. Her laughter; but happy and unburdened by concerns for the present. A small circle of fire lit up when the girl inhaled on her cigarette, and she felt good. Her friends were here, in her room, talking and joking about some drunk chick they ran into at the store looking for rum-flavored skittles. Dierk was there, telling the story, and even Mathias seemed to be in a pleasant mood as a blunt was passed around.
In the near distance something crashed against a wall, and the light mood darkened for Adele. The conversation around her muffled, though none of her friends seemed to notice the sound, and the blonde could hear sobbing from the direction the crash came. She moved without walking, floating down a dark hallway as the crying grew louder and more desperate. Alone in the darkness, Laurelei Walters sat hunched over herself, shaking and crying.
"Mutter?"
Pale, white light illuminated the defeated figure of Adele's mother. The girl could see fresh color rising in old bruises along her mother's arms and neck, and blood glistened dully through hands that were held up to her face. This all felt so familiar, she knew she'd walked this moment before, yesterday and lifetimes before. A warm, heavy pit crawled into her stomach, and Adele stopped in her tracks, terrified, "Mutter?"
"He told you what would happen if he caught you sleeping in his bed with me when he got home. You should have listened to your father." Laurelei's words were full of hurt.
"I... I had a nightmare and Mindy wasn't in her room..." Tears of guilt and fear lined Adele's 16 year old eyes as she argued the reasoning of her 4 year old self.
"You should have listened!" Laurelei shouted, sobbing, showing her face to Adele, bloody and grief-stricken; the face of death.
Adele turned and bolted; but sprint as hard as she could her feet felt slowed and stubborn. Despite how much she tried to run faster, she was stuck at the same pace. The footsteps of Mathias could be heard from behind, catching up to her.
"Come 'ere Addy," his thick voice was full of malice and sounded like he was whispering right into her ear.
A wall approached quickly, and Adele hit it with her hands, looking to the sides for an exit, and then turning to Mathias. His white grin could be seen in the darkness, and something shiny glinted, like a blade, "I've got something for you Addy."
The blade swiped at her, and the girl was only able to duck just in time, "Mathias.... I love you!"
This time the blade thrust, sinking into the girl's chest, and she fell to her knees, gripping her chest with both hands. She looked down at the knife and the pool of red leaking out and staining her shirt. When she looked back up, Mathias was gone, and the knife too, though the wet pain remained. Charging at her from down the hall was a bigger man than her boyfriend, and older.
"No..." Her voice was tiny and came out weak. Adele scrambled to her knees and stumbled to the left into a run. Again, the air in front of her seemed to hold her back and she couldn't run nearly as fast as she knew she was capable of.
Charlie was on her in an instance, and knocked her to the ground hard. Her sight went black, but when she could see again, she was lying on her stomach. A moment of confusion hit her, but when she rolled over, Charlie was approaching. She could smell the booze seeping through his skin and on his breath, and he walked calmly over, loosening his belt.
"Papa?" This had happened before too, this moment. Adele knew, when it happened the very first time, she thought he'd been taking his belt off to hit her. She knew better this time, but her body felt paralyzed with fear and wouldn't move at her command. "Stooop!! Don't!" Charlie moved close enough that she could feel his breath on her face. This has to be a dream, it's a dream, it's a dream. Wake up! She closed her eyes and looked away from her father. Inhaling as deep as she could, Adele screamed. Or at least, tried to. Nothing but pent up air came out with no sound. Again, inhale, scream! Nothing but air, and the tiniest of squeaks. Again, scream! Everything went black.

"Miss Adele? Are you alright?" A tall, blonde haired man approached the girl, and she flinched away at first until her eyes focused to see it was Alex, one of the attendants at Perrin's villa. Her head was throbbing and her palms were sweaty and her chest felt like... Like it's been stabbed. Pressing the palm of one hand firmly to her sternum, Adele looked around. She was in the master bedroom, Perrin's old room.
"You're safe, Miss Adele. It was just a dream, though you cried out there at the end." Alex walked closer, holding out a glass of water. "You and your friends had a rough night it seems."
Adele sat up, taking the water silently and sipping absent-mindedly. "Uh, yeah... the flight." She removed her hand from her chest and pressed it against her forehead. The phantom pain from her dream still lingered in her chest. "Odin... I haven't felt this shitty from a flight since Turning. Um, where's Damien? Why am I in Perrin's room?"
"I had him put in the guest room you were previously using, he is still sleeping. Adele, I thought you'd decided to start occupying the Master bedroom?" Alex took the glass from Adele as she finished, "Food is prepared for you and your guests when they feel up to rising." He turned to leave, but stopped at the doorway, "It is good of you to bring Master Perrin's son home."
Adele slid out of bed, picked up her backpack, and made her way to the full length mirror on the back of the door in Perrin's room. As a general rule, Adele used mirrors as little as possible, but she felt... paranoid. Alex had been looking at her differently. I think. Like he'd been looking through her, could see her dream. Taking a look in the mirror, Adele pulled down the skin of her left eye and peered into it. It was still strange seeing gold eyes look back at her, but nothing really seemed different, that she could put her finger on. Pulling off her shirt, the blonde looked at the scar in the middle of her chest, brushing it lightly with her fingertips. It had smoothed over a little since she became a Lycan, but it was still, and would probably always, be there. Large and rough in shape, even more pale than the rest of her skin; a gift from Mathias' knife when she was 15. The mark above her right breast was more recent, and a bit smaller, but silver. All of her lasting encounters with silver had given her silver scars; she had one in between her shoulder blades on her back too, both remnants from the Vampire Rickter's silver bullets. Adele twisted around to see it in the mirror and sighed at the other marks still present.
Self-consciousness rose, and the girl walked away from the mirror, feeling like she was back in school again. Everyone must know... But that was foolish, no one here had cause to really know; yes Szandor and Alex had helped her recover from Rickter's attack, but all they'd seen were scars, years old. They must think something... Becoming a Lycan had given the girl a new chance, a new life. No one in this life knew enough about her Human life to guess right; not even Pablo, her closest friend since Turning. All the same, Adele pulled on a long-sleeve black shirt, holes worn in at the end of the sleeves for her to stick her thumbs through, and put a black band t-shirt over that, choosing skinny jeans that hadn't been worn through with holes; she didn't want anyone looking through her.
After a couple frustrated moments of brushing through her hair, Adele emerged from the master bedroom, grabbing a sausage from the kitchen and walked to the room Damien would be in. The pounding in her head and lessened, but was still present. She stood outside the door, listening to see if Perrin's son was stirring, chewing on the sausage. After a moment, Adele entered the door of the room. "Damien?" She said softly.

[Damien]

As far as Damien was aware, he was incapable of dreaming. Or, at the very least, he had no recollection of any dreams to date. Well, not in the normal sense of the word 'dream' in any case. He'd been told on many occasions that it wasn't physically possible to not dream. Of course, he assumed that those who'd placed their faith in that particular tenet of sleep science would also say that it's not physically possible to transform into a large bipedal wolf-like humanoid. Their argument was simple enough; everybody dreams during their sleep, they just can't remember their dreams once awoken. And this was where Damien objected. He knew full and well what happened every night, and it didn't exactly fit the description of dreaming. He'd never taken the time to try and make sense of it himself, let alone describe it to others. It wasn't like what a dream should be at all, what he experienced while he slept he could only describe as sinking into his own subconscious mind. Or at least he thought it was his subconscious mind. Every night he would decend into an endless expanse of nothingness. His physical body was present, but it was never alone. Every night, the same malevolent presence was also there, sharing the darkness with him.

Sometimes he would try to communicate with the presence. Damien knew that it understood his words, but it seemed unable to form them, instead using images and feelings to respond. It's messages were nearly always the same. It was always angry to some varying degree. Its mood ranged from a sort of mild irritation, to a rage that flooded Damien's mind like an ocean, but it was never happy to see Damien. In fact, most of the time it regarded him with what Damien interpreted as something between disgust and disappointment. Beyond that, Damien could also sense jealousy. It seemed as though it wanted nothing more than to occupy Damien's body, but was unable to do so... or if it was, it was biding it's time until the opportunity presented itself. It was terrifying thought. One day would he succumb to it's maddening influence? Would it one day decide to supress his will and rise to the surface, taking his body as it's own? But what terrified him the most was the possibility that he and the wolf were one in the same. Two sides of the coin. The possibility that it wasn't an alternate personality, or an inhuman symbiote, but it was his own personality... that's what he feared the most. He feared that it was he who dreamt of nothing but rending and devouring flesh. He feared that it was he who couldn't distinguish between his enemies and his own mother as he threw her frail body as if it weighed no more than a ragdoll.

But luckily, that night was different. The wolf seemed... different. Though Damien was uncharacteristically foggy that night, it seemed as though the wolf was addled as well. It seemed to be insistant that something was wrong. Instead of the usual berratment, the wolf repeatedly brought forth images that appeared to have been seen from Damien's own eyes. Images of a shoreline. The images were fuzzy, and presented in a nearly incoherent fashion, but from what damien could tell, there were other Lycans present in each. The wolf insisted that Damien knew who these Lycans were... and interestingly enough, the urge to lash out that he felt wasn't the wolf's... it was his own.

He had little time to discuss this as the throbbing in his head seemed to grow more and more tangible, and soon enough he was aware of his body lying prone on a bed that much much too comfortable to be his own. Eyes still closed, Damien attempted to recall the images that had even been foggy in his sleep-state... and when nothing came to him, he sighed and rolled to his side.

"Damien?"[/b] A nearby voice whispered. He knew this voice, it was soft, and familiar to him. So much unlike the voice that usually plagued him in his sleep. It was... Adele's voice? Jolting himself upright and nearly out of bed with a noise that could only be described as a "kathwoosh", Damien looked about the unfamiliar room, finding a small blonde woman with a coy smirk on her face.

"Wha--... where am I?"

[Adele Holst]

Adele tried to stifle a laughter as Damien jolted upright at her softly spoken word. She was often like that too; when she wasn't having nightmares, that is. As a Human, all it would take to wake her was someone merely stepping foot in her room. She'd tried to do protection spells around her room, but it was more than anything like that; the girl could just feel the impact of even just a foot in the door: the intrusion of her space and privacy. Privacy was important and something well guarded to Adele. However, if her reactions were anything like Damien's just now, she was starting to understand why Dierk had found it so amusing to wake her. Damien's blonde hair was a mess of a mop and the blankets looked as if he'd been wrestling with them all night long. Sleep still edged the corners of his eyes, but he seemed to be mostly awake and aware. The boy's chest was bare, but Adele hoped he was at least wearing boxers under the covers.
Finishing the rest of the sausage, Adele licked her fingers, and stuck both hands in the tiny pockets of her jeans, "We're at Perrin's. His Villa." The flight to Athens really seemed to have taken it out of everyone involved. Her smile grew softer, and she bite softly on her lip before adding, "There's food ready, and then... I thought I could take you down to see..." Strangely, her lip tasted of copper and felt tender, she hadn't remembered chewing it so badly the day before. "You can have the master bedroom tonight, also..." I don't know why I took it in the first place, I've never slept in Perrin's room before... She thought to herself. "I'll, uh, just wait for you out here, to dress."
Turning the corner back into the hallway, Adele leaned against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. Anticipation and nervousness began to creep up from nowhere as the throbbing in her head slowly subsided. To keep the worry at bay, the girl started humming one of her favorite songs, whispering the words as they came, "Sie sagen zu mir schließ auf diese Tür, die Neugier wird zum Schrei. Was wohl dahinter sei..." The words weren't as comforting as Adele had hoped and she gave up the song almost as quickly as she started it.
When Damien finally emerged from the room, fully clothed, Adele led him down the hall, passed more guest rooms, to the dining room. The doors of a couple of the rooms were closed, and behind one Adele could smell someone familiar. Pete... She paused ever so briefly outside his room, debating with herself whether or not to wake him, finally deciding to let him sleep. She was sort of surprised Pete had agreed to come along in the first place, or that Damien had even let him. This trip was probably going to be one of the most emotionally tiring events in Damien's life, and Adele didn't think he'd want company for it. She wasn't even sure she was prepared to witness how the Lycan would handle seeing for himself what remained of his Lordly father. Adele could handle Damien getting angry and lashing out at her, but what if his response was sadness rather than rage? Males having vulnerabilities made the girl really uncomfortable; and coming from the boy who'd hated her from the moment they met, she wasn't sure what she'd do. The only clear thing was that Damien deserved to see. She should have brought him here years before, but the two had always seemed to be at each others throat whenever their paths crossed. It wasn't until very recently that they'd found softer words to use.
The dining room was empty of attendants, but the table was covered in dishes of food, hot and fresh from the kitchen. Meats and sausages from varying animals were the main course, but eggs, potatoes and noodles were also present among the platters. "Help yourself." Adele smiled to the blonde boy, and picked out a couple bites of food from a few platters with her fingers, oblivious of the utensils and plates at hand for use. She let Damien take his fill, but did not sit, herself; much too anxious to wait for long in one spot. Wiping her hands on a cloth napkin, Adele looked to the blonde boy, "Whenever you're ready..."

[Damien]

Groaning, Damien crawled his way to the edge of the bed, threw his legs over, and stood up for what felt like the first time in days. Suddenly, his vision greyed and he stumbled headlong into the wall, luckily holding himself upright with his sleepy arms as blood throbbed its way back to his head. After wiping the sleep from his eyes, he went through his usual repetoire of stretches to reaquaint his body with the sensation of moving. Oddly enough, even after his dizzy spell had passed, he could still feel his head throbbing; he felt as though he'd partied a tad too hard, and woke up two days later. Making his way to the large mirror hanging on the wall, he inspected his face for evidence of what may have happened to him. His hair was disheveled, perhaps even more than usual, but perhaps more interestingly... it was full of sand. After he was certain that Adele had vacated the premise, Damien shut the door, and hopped his way to the attached bathroom while removing his boxers. Though he supposed they weren't neccessarily 'his' boxers, persay. He'd aquired the white boxers with the red hearts long ago, at the Wolf Den in Stockholm. Under normal circumstances, he would have been opposed to the idea of theft, but as he was left without clothes of any kind at the time, he deemed it neccessary. Damien intended to return them to their proper owner, but as no one had claimed them, he simply kept the boxers as his own. Just as he was about to toss them on the ground and enter the shower, he stopped, looking at them fondly before hanging them gingerly on a hook beside the door. They were the most comfortable boxers he'd ever worn.

The bathroom was much more extravagant than Damien had been accustomed to; stocked with an overwhelmingly lavish selection of soaps, towells, and the like. It seemed to him almost a shame to dirty it. He almost felt ashamed, removing one of the towells from its surgically precise bretheren. There was no doubt that after he left this room, it would be attended to by the villa's staff. Regardless, all his worries washed away under the streaming water. It was spectacular; the shower-head seemed to be one of the sort he'd heard about, spraying water in ever changing patterns in such a fashion that it almost felt like the piping hot water was massaging his body. And the water itself was just as he prefered it, hot enough to turn the room into a sauna. It was just what he needed to get the sand out his hair and the various other nooks and crannies. But strangely enough, Damien had no recolection of ever being on a beach. In fact, he had no memory of anything past the camping trip. And even the events of that night seemed to be a blur to him. When he thought back to it, he felt a strange sense of self-consciousness. He didn't recall drinking, and he had no other reasonable explanation for the gap in his memory but something in the back of his mind told him that it wasn't important.

After hanging his towell up to dry, he made his way back to the bedroom, located his backpack, and rifled through it for the clothes he'd hoped he remembered to bring. He threw on a tattered pair of jeans that had seen better days even before they became his. In fact, there was a hole on the rear of the pants that allowed a perfect view of his heart-boxers. He was quite fond of those jeans. Lastly, he stretched a thin, but form-fitting blue hoodie over his head as he left the room. Damien owned precious few articles of clothing, but these were his favorites. To his surprise, Adele was waiting in the hallway to guide him to the dining room. He found it unusually difficult to make eye contact with her. Normally, he would have been drooling at the vast array of meats that stood calling out to be consumed, but he remembered why he'd come, and it drained him of his apetite.

Ready when you are.

[Adele Holst]

The Villa seemed unusually silent to her keen Lycan ears, and Adele watched quietly as Damien looked about the room and at the food, but not at her. The young woman wiped the remaining grease on her fingers on her jeans, and pulled the sleeves of her shirt down to poke her thumbs through the hole. Though her heart was racing, the blonde managed to keep her face solemn and respectful.
"Over here," the words came out just above a whisper.
Adele moved around the table and led Damien out of the dining room and down a short hall, her socked feet padding softly on the polished wood floor. In the middle of the hallway, toward the back of the house Adele stopped. A large iron door had been set into the wall, with intricate brands in the likenesses of Humans, horses, wolves and bats, all in conflict; the art seemed ancient but had managed to keep a crispness about it. Adele grasped the handle to the heavy iron door and pulled it open slowly, motioning for Damien to step ahead of her and down the stone stairs. The door closed behind them with a soft -clank- and Adele began to descend down the dark stairway, hovering her hand just above Damien's shoulder, close enough to feel the heat of his body, but not enough to actually touch him.
Freshly lit torches illuminated the deep stair-well on both sides of the two blonde Lycans. A rush of cool air and a subtle musty smell met the pair as they walked further down the stairs. Twenty steps passed, then thirty; Adele could hear and feel her heart pounding in her ears as they neared the crypt below. She'd made this trip on many occasions before, but never with her Sire's son in tow.
After sixty steps the staircase ended and opened up into a long, dark room. Large torches lined the walls, three on each of the three adjacent walls. In the center of the room lay the tomb; Perrin's tomb. The Lycan leader's sarcophagus stood above ground about a meter. On top of the coffin, a likeness of the Greek Lycan Lord had been carved out of the stone, lying with his arms across his chest, clutching the walking cane that had often accompanied him. The bottom of the cane was silver that had been sharpened to a point, while the top of the cane boasted a wolf's head, carved from pure silver. Adele had never quite understood why her Sire had always carried the cane around, she'd seen how agile and strong Perrin was, but she figured it must have had some sentimental value to him. That, or it was just one of the things people did when they had money. "This is Perrin. Err, your father."
Two candles at the head of the sarcophagus flickered and danced across the stone Perrin. Adele inhaled silently and held her breath for a moment. The candles tricked her every time. The sculpture of the Lycan who'd bitten her looked so real, that in the candle-light she would swear that any moment Perrin would sit up and ask what was wrong. For a brief moment, Adele reached out to touch Perrin's arm, to remind herself he was gone; but she stopped herself, remembering her company.
The girl stepped back to let Damien take everything in. She watched the boy carefully, stopping herself from chewing on her lip. Her voice broke softly through the silence of the crypt, "You can open it, to see him, if you want, but... It probably won't look very good..." This was the most nervous Adele had been since before the raid in Rome. "He was pretty old..." She added as a quiet after-thought, then mentally face-palmed and resolved herself to silence. It was easier than she might have thought to keep her gaze off the boy, but instead kept it firmly on the coffin of Perrin Goldeneyes.

[Damien]

Damien seemed to be having trouble determining exactly what it was he was feeling. Could it be fear? No, not likely, there were very few things that frightened him at this point. Years spent as a werewolf had certainly left him jaded. Was he having some sort of anxiety attack? Also not likely, being trained under various prominent figures stationed at the Lycan Den in Stockholm, he'd learned to keep in check, if not fully control the minute biochemical changes in his body that naturally reacted to perceived danger. He had also ruled out hunger; though he had a feeling he hadn't eaten in quite a while, the thought of what lay ahead of him left him somewhere between nauteous and anemic. Gathering his quickly fading resolve, he followed Adele out of the kitchen, thankful that she had an idea of what he was thinking, and kept the small talk to a minimum. Whatever it was that he was feeling, it was certainly palpable to say the least.

As she led him through the villa, he couldn't help but appreciate just how regal the dwelling was. It went far beyond what he had previously associated with luxury; it wasn't filled with the expensive designer furniture and post-modern art that seemed to occupy the homes of a good number of rich and famous... each and every piece, from the crown-molding down to the polished hardwood floor was obviously crafted by master artisans. It seemed in stark juxtaposition to the stories he'd heard about Perrin, and how he was a ruthless fighter who had earned his place at the very pinnacle of the Lycan heirarchy. Lycans had always been a fiercly independent race, kneeling to no one, not even death itself; for one to ascend the ranks and establish himself as a leader worthy of following was a rare occasion. The man had obviously earned a great deal of respect during his life.

Passing through a rather ornate (even by the villa's exceedingly high standards) door, Damien couldn't help but notice that this place wasn't meant for the exchange of pleasantries and coctails that surely went on just on the other side. This place wasn't meant for the eyes of any house-guest. It had an air of reverence to it. The stairs seemed to have been carved from the very bedrock of the ground beneath the villa, as had the rest of the room below them as far as he could tell. There was no artificial lighting, their path instead being illuminated by the warm light emanating from countless blazing torches hanging from the walls. He made his way to the center of the room as if drawn there by some force as inescapable as gravity itself, and there he found the remains of his father, entombed in a sarcophagus carved from stone into his likeness. He stood there, motionless for a moment, unaware that Adele was speaking to him. At long last, he was face to face with his father, the moment he'd both longed for and dreaded. As a child, all he'd wanted was to meet his father, to toss around a ball, or whatever it was that fathers and sons did. As a teenager, he wanted nothing more than to meet his father to curse him for abandoning him and his mother. But now, in that place, he couldn't say a word. All of his curiousity, all of his anger, it all seemed to dissipate leaving what felt like a void. Was it a void of purpose? No, though he had no place in human society with his mother, he still had a duty to Alena and the pack. It was something else.
The realization of it all weighed on him so heavily that it seemed as though his legs could no longer support the bulk of his body. He slunk to the floor at the base of the tomb.

"I really am alone now."

[Adele Holst]

The light of the torches flickering and the subtle crack of the wicks snapping left a quiet reverence around the tomb; almost hypnotic and other-worldly.
Sometimes, if Adele sat down here long enough she could feel an ache in her bones, no, her blood; a calling crawling up her spine and tingling the hairs on the back of her neck. Such a restlessness felt familiar in a way, not exactly something she'd personally dealt with in the past, but something that felt ingrained with who she was now. Sometimes, she'd swear the stone beneath her feet would crumble and dissolve into dirt, that the air would smell older, much older, and that she could see glimpses of the Villa and Athens as they must have looked centuries ago. The phenomenon was strangely comforting, not at all surprising, and the blonde would stand amidst the vision as if she knew exactly what was about to happen. But Adele, the young woman from Germany, had never been to such sights in person; these were not her memories. The hallucinations, she suspected, had been (perhaps unintentionally) a part of her particular gift of Lycanthropy, inherited from Perrin Golden-eyes.
"I really am alone now."
The blur of glowing light came into focus in the corner of Adele's sight and she looked over toward Damien who was now sitting on the floor, his back against Perrin's tomb. He sounded so defeated, it made the girl nervous. Her first instinct was to turn away and pretend she hadn't heard anything; but of course she'd heard him, it'd been years since she'd missed hearing something said to her or even around her. Adele bit her lip and grabbed the cuffs of her sleeves, struggling for what to do. While the human in her was uncomfortable at this show of emotion, the animal in her wanted to ease the distress in the air and sympathized with the blonde boy on the floor.
Hesitating a moment more, Adele finally stepped closer to Damien and plunked down beside him with her back resting against Perrin's coffin. "I... I'm sorry..." Her golden gaze flitted briefly toward the boy, but did not linger long, and moved to the wall in front of her. Bragi, give me the right words... she prayed mentally, grabbing her necklace, but felt no spark of intuition for what she might say. Nothing came out willingly when she opened her mouth, but finally she said, "You aren't alone. You have the Pack... I know it isn't, um, a father, but... Well..." Her shoulders slumped, and Adele frowned self-consciously, "The Pack's been more of a family to me than... mine. " Quickly, before her senses came back to her, the girl leaned over, wrapped her arms around Damien and squeezed him in a brief hug. Then, as if nothing had happened, she returned to her sitting position, legs crossed, biting her lip.

[Damien]

He hadn't expected sympathy from anyone, certainly not a fellow Lycan. Lycans for the most part were very well aquainted with death and loss. Such was their curse; forever drawn into bloody conflicts with other ageless beings, and force to watch as those who don't bear the curse wither and die. Occupational hazard really. But sympathy from Adele? This certainly surprised Damien, if not leaving him shocked. What right did he have to be more upset than she over Perrin's death? He'd never once laid eyes on him while he still breathed, their first meeting many years after his unnatural end. But Adele... in Perrin's last moments he had chosen her to inherit everything; his villa, his attendants, and his power. Damien supposed that as the only thing left to him was his moniker, Perrin had been more of a father to Adele than he'd ever been to him. The thought of The Pack, a loosely organized band of violent immortals who would rend you to pieces just as quickly as shake your hand, being a step up from one's real family was rather disheartening.

What sort of unfathomably terrible life had this poor girl gone through that this life was an improvement? Certainly, joining the ranks of the undying had it's benefits... but the decision to give up every human relationship you've ever had, to trade everything away for a life of unending bloodshed... what sort of family could motivate one to choose The Pack? The more he thought about it, the more he came to understand that it should be Adele who was bereaved, and Damien the one consoling her. But instead he spent the past few years trying in ernest to strange the life out of her. Recently, time spent with Adele was like learning how to walk for the very first time; it required the use of muscles he'd never had to use, and each step was slow and difficult. Even among the few Damien would even consider to be friends, conversations were brief, and very rarely of any substance. Would he be pushing the boundaries of their current relationship to ask about her past? Would it be odd of him to bring it up even if they were friends?

Certainly, it would be a challenge befitting the gods to make things more awkward than they already were; after their brief embrace, Adele was sitting beside him completely silent besides the sound of her nearly chewing her lip off, and he realized that he had been equally out of touch from reality whilst mulling things over in his head. Now or never he supposed; might as well ask before the 'spilling your guts out' mood left the room. "What sort of family did you have that would lead you to be one of us?"

[Adele Holst]

The question froze Adele in her already stable tracks, and shook the foundation of her mind. Never, since turning into a Werewolf, had the girl confessed much of anything about her Human life to Anyone. Not even Pablo, the one she considered her best friend, knew much of anything. No one had bothered to ask, and she sure as hell was not going to offer the information. She hadn't even mentioned whether or not her parents were still living. And that's the way she preferred it.
But now... Now, Damien was asking. Adele couldn't decide what she wanted to do more: run from the tomb to lock herself forcibly into a room for a year, or to go for Damien's throat. Neither would be acceptable, she knew, and unfortunately she didn't feel confident enough to bluff her way through a bunch of lies. She could feel the boy's eyes boring into her, and she felt her immediate reaction was all too noticeable (even if it truly wasn't) to shrug off what her Human family life might have been like. It wasn't any of his business, really, she could just not answer, she supposed. But this was Damien; everyone who lived at the Den knew his general history: he came from the U.S. and was the son of the late, great Perrin Golden-eyes, though he'd arrived at the Den in Sweden too late; his father had died by that time. People knew he'd been raised by his mother, but just assumed he was sent to reclaim his legacy and join his father when he came of age. Being the son of Perrin had set him apart from the regular pups at the Den, and they mistook his grieving silence for haughtiness and a 'better-than-thou' attitude. And he'd certainly displayed that toward Adele since his arrival.
Sighing quietly, the blonde resolved herself to sharing at least something, though her nerves were getting to her and wanted to seize her actions. Breathe, Addy. She told herself over and over, and finally, she could breathe. Her gaze was kept on the floor before her. "My earliest memories are of my father beating my mother. And.... after that, they're of him beating me." Adele tried her hardest to distance herself from what she was saying, to have no emotion in her words, even if it would make it harder to believe, but her voice came out thicker than usual. She couldn't help it. "My father sent away my older brother and sister because they were not His. After that... there are years straight, that I remember, when every day he was home, my mother and I would get a new bruise or scar." Her hands were curled into fists, no longer able to fidget aimlessly. Somehow, she couldn't stop. Normally, Adele wouldn't be anywhere near this talkative unless she was buzzed or drunk. Well she was neither now, and yet could not stop the words from spilling out. Tears wanted to form at the corners of her eyes, but she fought them hatefully back. "I thought it was my fault for a long time. I could not even run to my mother for help or when I was frightened, or else he would beat her harder. And yet she seemed not to have any similar concern for me." Adele paused, trying to remember to breathe. "Dad was put in prison when I was....." She didn't want to say the age, she was so young, "Twelve." It came out anyway. "Mama finally stepped in and did something about him. It only took.... he only had to rape me." Those words burned her soul, and a tear fell hot down her cheek. She didn't dare look at Damien, but kept her eyes down to the floor. Adele tried to recompose herself. "A couple years ago he was released early from prison... I think it was the same company who freed Mathias early." She did not bother to explain who Mathias was. "Anyway, he's dead now. So that's the end of that. I was bitten while Dad was in prison, and have found a warmer welcome into the Pack than my parents ever gave me..."
Her face was bright red, though you couldn't tell much from the darkness of the crypt. The girl felt utterly embarrassed, yet she felt something else too, it was strange. Like a small weight had been lifted from her chest and shoulders as the words fell out of her mouth. It was impossible to say why that was; never had she felt compelled to share her family life, in fact she was perfectly content at hiding it from everyone, Human or not. But now, all of a sudden, it was almost easier to breathe, and all she'd done was open up. To Damien.
Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, Adele moved to stand. "Ehm... I'll leave you in peace, if you wish."