Dark clouds filtered through the sky with shades of blue and streaks of white stretched their way across the sky and illuminate everything bellow for a second’s time. Then came the rain, subtle at first, but soon breaking into a stream like nature as they begun to downpour across the lands. Small puddles began to form here and there, soaking the earth thoroughly only to dilute it into one giant sloppy muddy mess to try and walk in. Not a single soul seemed to stir within the dark of the night. All except one figure with arms stretched wide and his face held up to the skies, as if to welcome on the soaking rains. The man’s hair was black as night and hung down to waist level, except a small section of white long hair that seemed to stream along the right side of the man’s face. Adoring his form was a jacket without anything beneath and open in its nature to expose the finely tuned mid-drift he possessed. Atop of these key features, nothing seemed to strike all that out of the ordinary about the man, other than the fact that he nuts enough to remain out in such a cold downpour as was this fateful night.

Streams of water broke their snaking way across his countenance, causing the soft strands of white hair to stick to his face, while the rest seemed to hang freely behind his arching frame. The rain felt invigorating against his heated flesh, the way it roll and caressed his body in its attempt to escape down to the earth. What he enjoyed more about the night was the flash of lights above, the way the lightning arced this way and that in its chaotic nature. Its strengths were unbound by anything, free to act the way in which it wishes to conduct itself. Whether through the sky, ground, or anything and everything that got in its way of whatever goal it wished to gain. That was when the sudden erupting flash caught his attention in its sudden rapid decent from the sky. With no time to react, all he could hope is that it wouldn’t hit close to him, but his hope wouldn’t be answered. A loud bang erupted forth from the ground beside him, instantly deafening him to any sound for the time being. Then a slosh of maddened earth would kick up and explode against him, the sheer force of the entire action immediately kicked him to his side and sent him skidding across the muddied ground. Once arriving to a sudden stop, his eyes would flutter open and stare aimlessly around him in a dazed like state.

Nothing seemed to register in his head, at least not until a few moments passed and he was finally able to push himself back to his feet. Mud caked across his entire left side and littered the rest of his entire frame. Even his face had become comparison to the messy appearance that his body had become. Though it was of no worry to him, instead his attention seemed to drift over to the skid marks, then to where he had once stood and the crater alongside of that. The hell was that about…? Was the only question that came to mind, but it was one that would be pushed aside once his hearing began to steadily return to him. What an annoying experience that was, but it seemed to bring a realization to him. What was unstable and out of control, could become harmful in the end if no control was to be given to it. Unsure how to really take that new found lesson or even how it seemed to apply to him like he had originally thought; he would quickly shake it off and turn his attention to himself. Where he would resituate the jacket that hung haphazardly off of his torso, before raking both his hands through his hair and then brush a few rebelling strands of hair from his face. It was then his eyes would return to the sky, watching intently as its onslaught would continue. The rain seemed to hold no end…

((OoC: not sure how great the post is, but I hope it's at least okay. :] ))

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Had she known it was going to rain, she would not have ventured into the Debon Plains.

The rain began to fall gently, but even at the slow starting pace, Cordelia knew it was going to get worse. There was never just a light drizzle; never in a place like this. Even if it did stay light, she couldn't honestly say she appreciated having little wet droplets falling on her and invading her area of personal privacy. The wet only made her clothing stick to her, anyway.

Grumbling, the woman looked at the ground, allowing the rain to hit her hat instead of her face. It helped ease her aggravation slightly, but this was just a game of avoidance. Stalling the inevitable... or at least stalling it until she could find somewhere to get out of the rain. Considering there were no buildings or much of anything here, however, Cordelia doubted she was going to be able to get out of it. There was no use in turning back, though - not when she had already come this far.

Of course it immediately began to fall faster. Her short, black hair began to whip around her hidden facial features, causing her to sigh. She pulled her cloak tighter to her, wincing somewhat as her arms were still quite burned from a skirmish she had gotten into nights ago. She would have to remember to kill that man and his ugly, fire-breathing horse. The sooner they were out of the picture, the sooner she could have a part of her ego back. With her thoughts on Fehade's 'impending doom' and no longer on the rain, a small smirk was able to form on her face and a light, fluffy feeling swam around in her stomach. Sure, it was hard to walk in the mud and she was only getting soaked more and more as the minutes passed, but at least she had revenge on her mind!

A crashing sound brought her out of her thoughts. Cordelia looked to the sky, instantly regretting the decision as thousands of tiny raindrops began to attack her face. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be bombarded for just a moment; for being insane enough to stay out in weather like this, she deserved just a little beating. In a way, the rain felt a little nice, cleansing just enough to feel right, plus, it felt good on her burned arms. That didn't take away the fact that it was invasive, however; it never really would.

The sound stuck with her, though, and she looked into the distance. She didn't think it was too far off, so like anything, there was no choice other than to go and see what it had been. The vampiress picked up her pace, wanting terribly to run, but her burned legs wouldn't allow it. In the mud, it wouldn't be a great idea to go that fast, anyway. Twisting an ankle or injuring herself in some other form wouldn't be a great idea... especially since she had been doing a great deal of that lately.

Cordelia arrived at the scene as the other figure was just getting to his feet. She had missed the small explosion, sadly enough, but she was smart enough to put two and two together. There had been that loud noise, there were skid marks, and that guy was getting up off of the ground. The only thing she could draw from it was that somehow, he had taken a harsh fall. She rested her right hand on her hip and watched him with a raised eyebrow, contemplating what she should say. There was no way she was going to pass up an opportunity to make fun of another's potential misfortune.

"What happened to you?" Cordelia asked rudely, her voice taking on its normal masculine tone to go with the rest of her disguise. "Take a nice fall, did you? Or did you trip over your own two feet?" So that wasn't the best she could come up with... she blamed the rain.

(( OOC: It's perfectly fine. =P Mine might be lack-luster though and on a side note, Manic's a bit of an antagonist as I'm sure you'll notice. >.>;; ))

A sneer crossed his elegantly slender lips when the sound of her voice sliced through the silence around him like a jagged sword through paper. Ah, the glorious sound of a female voice, even if she was trying so hard to sound tough. When her question presented itself to him, the sneer on his face would only grow wider. Making no attempt to shoot her a glance or even offer her even a seconds of his attention, his eyes would continue to peer aimlessly up into the blackened skies in admiration. All the while though, he would mull over her question, curious as to why someone, especially a female was out in such a frightful night.

“What is the only name that if spoken would immediately be broken?” A riddle it was and the only response that came to mind at the time. After all, she was the one that spoke the first word and interrupted his time alone. What right did she have asking him a question…Especially one like that?

Breaking his gaze from the skies above, they would slowly trail down and over his shoulder. Peering with onyx eyes, they would carefully roam across the woman’s body, before shifting themselves down to the crater not too far off from him. With a certain grace to it, his hand would lift itself and present itself out to the crater, “Lightning only strikes once…” Were the only words to break forth from his parted lips, before his hand would lower in a gradual succession of movements in order to point out the skid marks that trailed from the crater. Once his hand came to a dead halt at his side, his voice would pick up in an eloquent and subtle tone, “But the body’s limits are exhausted in the first strike, so the odds of getting struck again fall significantly. Lucky for me, the first time was a fluke miss.”

Again a wide spanning grin would cross his lips, before turning to face her on the balls of his feet, “A little useless information for your failed attempt at trying to poke fun at me. If you’re going to poke fun at someone, make sure they give a rip about what you say first.” The grin would remain on his face, as he winked at her, “Though, it would help if your comment held more of a punch to it. For example…Perhaps you should take a look at yourself once; you look like a drowned rat. Was that unintentional or is that look in nowadays?” A soft laughter resonated forth from the depths of his larynx at the sheer thought of her reaction to such a comment. Most women he crossed over the years seemed to despise having their looks become sport in the game of fun. Most acted back with some sort of comment of their own, but there were the select few that took it beyond just words, which were the foolish ones. By no means was he declined to hurt a woman, especially when they raised the first hand in the situation. In his view, the second they brought it to that physical level, they were forfeiting any rights to claiming the ‘But I’m a woman’ card.

People were such foolish creatures, intent on feeding their own obsessions and holding no cares as to who or what they hurt in order to get it. It wasn’t all too important though and something he really didn’t care to think about, especially at the current time. So instead his eyes would trail up to hers and remain stationed there. Such beautiful eyes they were, but they weren’t enough to keep him from continuing to speak, “Of course that’s a mere example, because you don’t look like a drowned rat, I’d say dog is more like it.” Deciding not to push the envelope any further, he would simply wait a smile upon his face. But in case she chose to do something physical, his body would shift in its stance to a more relaxed state, keeping his muscles tensed just enough to barely maintain his current semi-leaned stance. Should she make a jab at him or a strike, it would take little to no effort in order to slink back and avoid whatever it was she threw at him.

“What is the only name that if spoken would immediately be broken?”

Cordelia immediately rose an eyebrow and was half tempted to take a step back, but she refrained from doing so. It always seemed to be her luck that she got stuck with the crazy people. This one spoke in riddles, and though the vampire was smart, she wasn't intelligent enough to sit there decoding a question for a question. "Oh, the anxiety of not knowing the answer is killing me," she said dryly with a sigh. "Please, it's killing me, tell me." She looked at the rain; this definitely wasn't her day. She was burned, it was raining, and she had to deal now with a crazy people. Just her luck...

“But the body’s limits are exhausted in the first strike, so the odds of getting struck again fall significantly. Lucky for me, the first time was a fluke miss.”

He was babbling on about something or other. Cordelia lifted her index and middle fingers, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had no idea what the odds were of anything; probability and anything dealing with mathematics had never been a strong point of hers. The only thing that was really likely for her was that she could never have a normal conversation. She could never find one normal person who wasn't obsessed with the good of the people, killing, or... whatever this guy's problem was. "You sure that was lucky?" she mumbled. She had the courage to say it louder, but she just wanted to bother him by saying it in such a low tone.

"... Perhaps you should take a look at yourself once; you look like a drowned rat. Was that unintentional or is that look in nowadays?”

A snort came out of her and Cordelia folded her arms. At first, that statement had been mildly amusing, but as time went on, her laughing became much heartier. He was comparing her to a rat, and thinking she cared? She was dressed as a man, and he thought she cared about appearances. That was just too good! "Well, in your own words, you might want to make sure people care what you're even saying before you say it."

She took a deep breath, ceasing her laughter while shaking her head. Hypocrites were so amusing to listen to, even if she herself could never stick to one belief.

".... I’d say dog is more like it.”

Well, this time it wasn't too funny. The insult had lost all of the humor last time, especially since it hadn't even hurt her. Cordelia looked at him with a look of indifference, deciding it was safe enough to walk closer. She was a vampire, after all, so she really didn't fear too many people or things. "And you still act like I care," she said. "You're in no position to be judging me, dear boy. You're not any more handsome in the rain than I am."

A manic laughter broke free from his parted lips at each of her comments. My my, she thought she was smart, she did. How quickly that would change, if she would allow him the chance to continue this frivolous conversation. Soon she would get sick of him, annoyed and pissed off at his comments, only to give him the sick satisfaction of enjoying another’s misery. Then the words of being handsome crossed his ears, immediately ceasing his laughter, but yet the same arrogant smirk remained prominent on his slender lips. Oh what a glorious day this will be, a woman in his company, the heavenly rains gracing his flesh, and the fact that he got to play his games with someone that apparently felt they weren’t bothered by it.

Breaking his eyes from hers, they would trail their way up to the blackened skies above, watching as they flashed here and there, “The answers is silence to my riddle. It’s a word you spoke without actually saying it, the second you opened your trap.” The smirk seemed to only grow wider as his voice would continue on, “Now as far as the caring goes. If you hadn’t noticed, I offered an example of how you should go about attempting to poke fun at another. I didn’t expect you to care; after all, it was only an example. A diagram if you will...” Gracefully his words would falter and dissipate into the silence around them. And in a smooth fluid motion, his head would lower itself back to its original state, while his eyes traced their way back to hers. Such an intriguing woman she was, one that didn’t seem to back down so easily even when she had all the chance to do so. To turn and walk away like nothing ever took itself up between the two of them, but yet here she remained intent to take and dish out whatever he threw at her.

It never ceased to bring a smirk to his lips or even wipe away the current one. Oh how he loved the resilient ones, the ones that would take a hit, but continue to keep swinging away just the same. It was a hard quality to find in people, since most would simply scoff and walk away or remove their sword and try to bring a conversation like this to a level it shouldn’t be at. While she never made a move for a weapon, or a move to walk away, his eyes would remain vigilant should she decide to make a grab. Never did he doubt the mental capacity of another being, but instead tested them as if they were just flat out retarded to see what kind of thinking and actions he could spark. Actions told a lot of what a person was like, but words and logical thinking brought even more information as to what people were like. What she was truly like would remain yet to be seen and he would find out within a short amount of time if he could help it. Again he would proceed to push the envelope, this time physically.

Pushing off with a single foot, his body would begin to sway in a jeering and methodical pace towards her, closing distance one step at a time. The soft sloshing of his boots making contact with the maddened earth was the only sound to pick up to his ears, at least until his voice would pick up in a soft subtle tone, “Ah, but that doesn’t mean you don’t think I’m not handsome and honestly, you look quite beautiful standing there beneath the raging storms above. The way the light reflects off your hair, the way your eyes light up with each flash, and the way your hair clings fleetingly to your features. Quite stunning if I must say so.” Now he was switching it up, playing the switch hitter in this game of bat and ball, but what added to his words. Was the fact that with each moment he was closing the distance between them, something he was quite certain she would dislike. If she would remain as she were, it would be a mere moment before he would be chest to chest with her…

“The answers is silence to my riddle. It’s a word you spoke without actually saying it, the second you opened your trap.”

She had ruined the silence? Cordelia snorted at the thought that something could actually be her fault. Arguing over something like this was so trivial, but it was what she found her enjoyment in. Listening to what others had to hear and then attempting to bring it down filled her with such a delightful feeling that she would trade anything for it. "Well, I'd say it was the rain that killed the silence, not me..." she said, the innocent meaning to her words betraying her uncaring tone. He was nothing more than a distraction to her, so she didn't think she had to pay attention to everything he said.

"... A diagram if you will...”

"Lovely," the vampire said with a hissing edge to her voice. "I'm example A." She rolled her eyes, knowing full well she could leave at any moment but refusing completely to do such a thing. Leaving meant she was forfeiting the quarrel and thus giving him the win. If there was one thing Cordelia hated above anything else, it was losing and appearing weak. Arrogant as it was, it was how she had been living for her entire life, and had only been worsening in the last seven years. "It isn't very nice to turn people you don't even know into experiments, you know."

Her eyes merely burned at him as he walked toward her. By now, she had stopped walking, never having been very fond of closeness. He was a stranger, anyway, and one she didn't take very lightly. Cordelia had learned by now what kind of people could easily be walked over and who couldn't, and she wasn't so sure how much she wanted to mess with someone like this man. He didn't seem very friendly or naive, like a few people she had met in the past, and he didn't seem like the kind to make up schemes that never seemed to work. She was having a slightly tough time trying to decide where to place him, but she knew she would know eventually.

“Ah, but that doesn’t mean you don’t think I’m not handsome and honestly..."

A look of disgust crossed her face almost instantly. "Is that what you think I was implying?" Cordelia was incredulous, and every word he said only helped to bewilder her more. He was talking of how nice she looked in the storm, and quite frankly, she was doubting his sanity with every word that spilled from his mouth. He should have known better than to assume she was single - even if she was.

"... Quite stunning if I must say so.”

"Mm, and you think I care what you say..." Cordelia said nonchalantly. An eyebrow perked when she saw how close he was and a mere sigh escaped her thin lips; why was every man she come across intent on being so near to her? She was undead, a creature of the darkness, all those other cliche names that were meant to scare children into behaving. She took a large step backward, suddenly grateful to her father for passing on his height to her. It was so useful! "I think it'd be safer for you to stay farther away..." Her fangs flashed threateningly as she spoke. Usually her threats were empty, but no one else had to know that. "I have a personal space rule that I prefer be respected."

The second she would take a step back from him; all movements would come to a cease, keeping at least two feet of space betwixt the two of them. It was the sudden flash of her fangs that would cause him to stop his actions, but their effect would only last a mere second. It wasn’t that he was afraid, but merely taken back by this sudden development. To think, a vampire right in front of him this entire time, at least that’s the deductive reasoning he had come to. She didn’t reek of demonic blood, nor were there many other creatures that held fangs such as those, so after putting two and two together, it brought about only one conclusion. There was one thing he couldn’t get over though, and that was the fact that she showed him every bit of information she had kept him in the dark about since they began talking, all in one single action.

Now he knew her weaknesses, her strengths and everything he could possibly know about her without asking one single question. What a foolish woman she was, right when he was beginning to admire her tenacity and vigilance, she F’s it all up and gives him something to work with. It really didn’t matter though; he wasn’t her enemy and had no intentions of fighting her. Although, if she had intentions of attacking him at any point, her advantages would now be a grave disadvantages and he would pick her apart piece by piece with no remorse. Deciding to level the playing field, his eyes would shift down to her thin elegant lips. That’s when he would put his course of action into play. For starters, he would lean forward towards her and tilt his head to the side. Wiping the smirk from his face, it would soon become replaced by a look of those who tried to coo a small child. That’s when his voice would pick up in a screech of cutesiness that only awe struck parents could do with a newborn child, “Awwww! She’s so cute, with her little baby teeth! I could just hug and eat you up!” When the last word flowed from his lips, the features of his face would contort and twist into that of a darker demeanor and a final word would escape his lips, “Vampire…”

Again his features would change and alter and the same arrogant smirk would become prominent upon his face, “You speak of not caring so much that you sound like a broken record. In fact if you didn’t care as much as you say you don’t, you would have been gone long ago. Just by remaining here, you’re contradicting yourself and on top of that, you must be interested by me. Is that truuuuuuuueeee?” Leaning in towards her, he would bring his face as close to hers as he could without compromising his balance. Not bothering to wait for her to answer him, a single digit would lift up towards his mouth. While his finger moved up to his mouth, his lips would part and agape themselves enough to expose his teeth. Lifting his upper lip just near one of the corners, he would expose one of the long fangs that occupied four spots in his mouth. The second he would, the tip of his finger would press itself up against the sharp jagged point of his fang. In a soft muffled but yet audible tone, his voice would pick up, “See? I got fangs too, but mine serve a different purpose, care to find out?” A soft laughter would break forth from his larynx, causing his hand to drop back to his side and bring him to rear back to his original position. The laughter would soon pick up into a sudden screech of manic laughter and his head would rear backwards, exposing his face up to the torrential downpour that fell from the skies above. Oh how he loved this game, not many could beat him and she was another one. The points were already stacked in his corner and the shear thought of her trying to continue this losing argument only excited his laughter further. After a few moments, it would soon quell itself and his head would rock forward back to its original position. Taking a free hand, he would brush a few strands of his white and black hair from his face, “Well, the balls in your court, sweet heart, care to continue the losing battle?”

Cordelia immediately arched her back away, a look of discontentment crossing her features. He was too close, especially his face. She was able to keep her balance in the slightly odd position she was in, but she couldn't exactly say it was painless. With all the burns she had received within the last few days, she wasn't very fond of having her back bent backward like that.

“Awwww! She’s so cute, with her little baby teeth! I could just hug and eat you up!”

Her left eye twitched as her anger mounted, and her pale, slender fingers curled into her palm. He was talking to her as though she were a baby, which she most certainly wasn’t. She was a grown woman who had developed a brain and didn’t need to be talked to like a child. Clearly he was underestimating the power of those fangs. She had ripped so many throats out with them that she thought the two teeth deserved the utmost respect for their killing efficiency. Besides, him talking to her like that brought up bitter memories that the former mother liked to keep hidden away. It was only more reason to dislike him as of now.

“Vampire…”

The voice in which he said that wasn’t very pleasing. Cordelia straightened herself up to her full intimidating height, squaring her shoulders. She knew he was probably looking for a reaction most of all, but so was she. “You say that like it’s an insult,” she hissed smoothly. Her knuckles were turning red and she bit her lip, wondering if it was worth it. One good punch would feel amazing, even if it didn’t do much to hurt him. It would be great if it did, but if it didn’t, all that mattered was that she felt good from it. “I’m sure it’s a far more respectable race than whatever you are.” Cordelia looked him from head to toe with distaste. She had yet to figure out what he was, though she was sure it was some sort of demon. Demons were always crazy and never knew when to keep their mouth shut.

“…Is that truuuuuuuueeee?”

He was making it extremely hard for her to control herself right now. “No, actually, it isn’t, and I’d prefer that you keep that ugly mouth of yours shut before you say something terribly… terribly wrong.” Her eyes narrowed as she inhaled deeply, standing her ground. She might not have liked how close he was to her, but backing up again would only cause him to make the false assumption that she was afraid. She was certainly uncomfortable, but far from afraid. “You’re simply an object in my way.”

He made a move now to show her his own teeth, which Cordelia merely responded to with a roll of her eyes. “Lovely,” she said sarcastically, not all too pleased with seeing another being’s mouth up close. It wasn’t the most attractive sight to lay eyes upon, to say the least.

“See? I got fangs too, but mine serve a different purpose, care to find out?”

Though she was curious as to what this ‘different purpose’ was, Cordelia made the inward decision to decline such an invitation. Agreeing to do something when she had no idea what it was would be foolish, especially around someone like him. “Maybe some other time,” she mumbled dryly. Though it was still saying something, it was highly doubtful Cordelia would ever run into him again, so she was almost completely positive that she was safe.

As soon as his laughter picked up, she wanted to cover her ears. He continued to laugh, and it was only becoming tedious. Cordelia stepped around him and took a few more steps down the muddy trail, though it was proving to be slightly difficult. Though her walk was usually far more graceful, the wet substance was making it awfully hard for her to walk evenly.

“Well, the balls in your court, sweet heart, care to continue the losing battle?”

There was only one thing in his statement that forced her to stop in her path. He had called her sweet heart. Cordelia took a deep breath and turned right around toward him again, lifting her fist and aiming a punch right for his jaw. “Don’t regard me with such endearment,” she snarled, her top lip curling upward. “Married women don’t appreciate it much, so before you spew anything out of your mouth you’d best bite your tongue.” She was fuming by now, and when she became this angry, her word filter seemed to disappear. All in one sentence she had mentioned she was married. That was a thing of the past, but maybe if he thought she had a husband, he would cut down on calling her such names. She was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need some man calling her his ‘sweet heart’ when he didn’t even know her.

Men are such pigs… she thought to herself, taking a step away and keeping her arms at her sides, her fist still clenched.

With each word that spilled from her mouth, they brought their venomous intended tone to his ears. It only made him smile to know her frustrations with him at this point. That had been his goal after all; especially the next action that would entail from her and that was walking away. How disappointing he thought, out of everything he expected from her, that was not one of them. From the short time they spent together, she seemed the type to never back down and remain vigilant in confronting her plight. But it seemed that she had now selected flight, that was until he turned his head towards her general direction, only to catch the appearance of her starting action through the corner of his eyes.

Wasting no time to guess at her intentions, a few soft words uttered past his lips and at that instant his body would take up an ethereal appearance. Almost vanishing from sight due to the torrential downpour, the fist would simply pass through his non-substantial head as if it never existed. The action caused a soft snicker to rise forth from his slightly parted lips, but it would quickly falter the second she spoke again. Married…The word bothered him and began to bring about countless thoughts that quickly flooded his head. Not even realizing it, the sudden shift in focus had dropped the veil of his spell, bringing him back to his solidified form. Staring with unblinking eyes at this woman, a few graceful steps would cause him to turn and face her fully.

Thought after though bombarded his sub-conscience, and within time would cause his pupils to dilate outwards due to the unbroken stare. It was at that point, when his head would begin to shake out of anger and without indication both of his hands would jolt up towards his head. Pressing the tips of his fingers against the flesh of his countenance, they would begin to draw in their pressure to a point where the tips of his fingernails would begin to dig themselves into his skin enough to break it and send blood streaming down the contours of his face. Rocking backwards and then forward, he would attempt to physically shake the thoughts from his mind, but to no avail. Instead they poured endlessly into the pools and caverns of his mind, bringing images and pain that could not be felt, but instead remembered. The whole ordeal caused his knees to grow weak and send him upon them. Once upon his knees, each of the muscles in his torso tensed and un-tensed in spasmodic fashion, before finally his hands would break from his face only to bring themselves along each side of his head.

A dig set of red glowing eyes would peer up at the woman in front of him, but they would quickly break to the ground as another bombardment of memories plagued his mind. Each hand balled itself into a tightly woven fist, white knuckled in their action. Then his muscles would tense to their full expansion and in one swift movement, he would bring both of his fists down and against the soft earth where they would almost instantly sink into it. Shifting his weight from his knees and distributing it upon his fists as well in order to maintain easier balance. A deep set growl would escape his lips when his thoughts would become more twisted, flashing images of the past and the future. Then all would cease, stopping just like nothing ever happened. When the images ceased, the anger driven features of his countenance would soften in confusion, but his chest would continue to rise and fall in rapid succession. Even his heart continued its rapid pace, almost giving him the feeling that it was going to rip and leap straight from his chest. Though, that wasn’t where his focus lied, instead it resided on the fact that the thoughts stopped and without cause. The concept baffled him, but his body remained in its half converted form with no intentions of reverting back to its original state.

Closing his eyes briefly, they would open with their stare now locked upon her. She was the cause of this, that word that left her lips had caused all of this, caused all of his pain. Such a spiteful word it was, the same had gone for the word love and the word family. Each had been stripped, ripped, and raped from him. They were memories he hated, loathed and often tried his best to disbar from ever arising in conversation. Releasing a low key growl, his body would gradually push itself up to a slumped stance, before finally erecting itself. His head continued to hang itself though, but his eyes would remain intently locked to hers. The blood on his face had gradually begun to smear with the continuance of the rain, but his focus would not stray from her. The same blood red glowing eyes burned their way into hers, as a low gravely voice would pick up, “Married…Married…You speak of being married, you speak of not caring, and you attempt make yourself appear strong. You’re a fake, a fraud, and a sham. One uncaring such as yourself could never be married. And one that attempts so hard to act so strong contradicts such endearments. Stop acting, it’s pointless…” Narrowing his eyes faintly, they would soon begin to return to their soft metallic shade, “People constantly told me that, told me that I was full of myself. You know what…? This is me, the insane, crazy, and mentally unstable man that everyone paints me to be. I have no heart, I have no soul, and I possess no knowledge. Apparently to them, I’m nothing but a soulless doll, existing to only exist, what’s your story? And don’t feed me a line of crap that you aren’t lying about anything you’ve said and done.” By now his voice picked up a venomous sting, play time was over and it was time to get serious…

Cordelia blinked when her fist merely went through him. A swing and a miss, all because of a simple spell. She snorted indignantly, fighting her embarrassment. The release of the pent up energy was nice enough, and she supposed that was all she was going to get. The vampire possessed no knowledge on how to cast spells or what they could do, and the few times she had tried to learn, everything had gone awry. It wasn't worth hurting herself over, so she had simply decided to never bother ever again with magic.

Something suddenly seemed to bother him. He was solid again and didn't look like he was in the correct state of mind. Though she was sure it would have been smarter to get out of there, she couldn't make herself move. Even though he was only staring at her for the time being, she had a feeling this was bound to be a good show. Something had disturbed him deeply, and it almost made the woman smirk. It seemed the tables had turned, and nothing had even happened!

Blood began to stream down his face. His nails were digging into his flesh, and Cordelia was tempted to mock him, but she had a hard time convincing herself that her words would reach him. He appeared to be a bit too wound up in whatever he was doing. Maybe the spell had backfired in some way, maybe it was the wrong spell... she didn't know. To be honest, she didn't care. All she really knew was that this was proving to be a very interesting meeting, and whoever this gentleman was, he was out of his mind.

The moment he fell on his knees, Cordelia couldn't help but look down at him and laugh lowly. Her hands rested on her hips as she stared down at him cruelly, finding pleasure in his pain. Not an ounce of worry filled her; in the position he was in, there was hardly anything he could do to harm her. On his knees, out of his mind, making himself bleed... and over what? Her giggles turned into longer chuckles and she shook her head at him. "Poor child..." she said through the low, heartless laughs. "What's gotten into you? You've lost you're spunk, become pathetic... you disappoint me."

While he sat there doing whatever he was doing, Cordelia made a point to distract herself. She would pay attention to him once again when he was well enough to carry on a conversation. She looked at her nails, tilting her head to the side. She glanced at the man on the ground to make sure he wasn’t doing anything too out of the ordinary before looking up at the clouds. The storm was still upon them, the rain was still coming down… she wondered if that had anything to do with his sudden lunacy. Weather could do some odd things to people; maybe putting them through mental agony was one of them.

Finally, he had spoken! Cordelia looked down at him, absorbing what he had said. He didn’t believe that she was married? She couldn’t say she blamed him, and she did have to give him credit for being sharp enough to catch there was no way the current person she was could ever be involved in a relationship. However, when he began spewing insults at her and calling her a sham, she couldn’t help but feel angry all over again.

“One uncaring such as yourself could never be married.”

“You don’t know me,” she reminded him in a sing-song tone of voice, chastising him by waving her index finger back and forth. “But you’re right, I’m not married.” She shrugged. She could easily play the whole thing off as a lie, but that might only get him riled up even more. “I used to be… but not now. You’ve got five points so far for guessing that.”

“Apparently to them, I’m nothing but a soulless doll, existing to only exist, what’s your story? And don’t feed me a line of crap that you aren’t lying about anything you’ve said and done.”

A confused expression crossed her features. Cordelia let out a hum of a sigh and bent her legs, crouching down to be at his level. She rested her elbows on her knees with her chin on the back of her wrist, contemplating what to tell him. There was no way a man so unstable could have any coherent relation with another human being, so she wasn’t too sure she would have to worry about him telling anyone else about her past. Maybe inanimate objects, but certainly not creatures that walked, talked, and breathed like them. Even if he did, she could probably kill anyone who spoke about it. She didn’t enjoy people talking about her.

“My story? I’m not a book, kiddo,” she told him, trying to sound as pleasant as she could to mock him. She was going back and forth, unable to decide what to do. She wanted to be rude in order to push him to see just what he would do if prodded far enough, but… mocking kindness might be the better option. It was just as tormenting, and in his state, who knew? Maybe he’d mistake it for genuine compassion, maybe he wouldn’t. If he did, then she got to play games, and if he saw through it, then she still got to pretend. Either way, she wound up happy.

She inhaled, trying to decide what he would consider a ‘line of crap’. “Well, I have to say, I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you my little story…” she told him, “and I don’t know if you’d even want to hear it. I was married for a time, but as soon as he found out who I really was, he left. I did just lie about still being married, but why should it matter to you? It didn’t happen to you and it isn’t your place to pry… didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?” An eyebrow lifted slightly as she spoke to him like that, wondering for just how much longer she could keep up acting nice. It made her feel nauseous.

A deep seated manic laughter began to erupt forth from the depths of his larynx with the final coming of her words. Contorting and twisting, his features took on a sadistic demeanor as his tongue flicked out from betwixt his lips and ran seductively across his slender lips, tasting the blood that trickled down to the corners of his mouth. Ah the sweet taste of blood, oh how it sent his taste buds upon a spin of their own. The coppery taste seemed to linger on his tongue, but his attention would stray to the woman. He carefully tilted his head to the right and then finally off to the left side for a moment, trying to get the best angle on her that he could. A twisted smile slowly etched across his features, before bringing his hand up to his face and wiping some of the blood from his forehead with only two of his fingers. Lowering his fingers down just in front of his mouth, his tongue would flick out again, this time diligently cleansing his digits of any traces of blood, before carelessly dropping his hand back to his side.

Did she really expect to turn the tables on him with her patronizing tone and words? It would be to her surprise when she would find out that he was not that easily won over, even in the most erratic state of mind. Insanity came and went like the coming of the wind, there was no choice in the matter, but throughout the ordeal his mind still held certain clarity to it. A clarity that would not allow him to attack, but would still remain defensive in its nature should push come to shove. And when it came to name calling, insults, and antagonizing him in such a state, all words would be drowned out, never heard during the state of mind. In his view, his mind was like an impenetrable fortress that could not be easily overtaken. When his mind didn’t drift to insanity, it was sharp as a bear trap and could easily destroy any hopes of anyone disrupting his thoughts.

When his thoughts returned to her words, the twisted smile would only grow upon his face. In a deep dark gravely tone, his voice would pick up over the sound of the rain crashing into the ground around them, “My Mother taught me to clean the blood from my hands with my tongue when I finished ripping the life from her. Shall I show you the manners that she taught me…?” Lifting his hand again, his tongue would flicker out to catch the tip of his finger, before stopping with a wide spanning grin upon his face, “Perhaps I could show you the dark side of insanity, that is what you want after all, isn’t it? Keep pressing and you may receive. But first I would like to ask you, can I exchange those five points you gave me for a golden star? I would like a golden star, or perhaps…Perhaps I could just take a token of your flesh…” A soft manic laughter began to part through his lips and out into the night air, sending clouds of white out from them. The rain had begun to grow colder in its touch and the air temperature had begun to rapidly change, dropping down just above freezing temperatures. But despite the temperatures, his body still felt rather warm; in fact it was almost heated in its nature. Though, the manic laughter would soon come to part and silence would instill itself once more while the twisted chaos of his thoughts continued to wander.

After a spell of time, his words would pick up again in a softer demeanor, “You’ve spoken of me not knowing you, but I think I know you more than you know. You’re exactly like a book, the cover’s just a shell and the pages beneath are stained and distorted through the farce of the act you put on. You’re playing a game with the insane; it’s not a wise option. Especially for the truly pathetic one, which is standing just in front of me. You know, I think you really should practice what you preach. Every step of the way in this confrontation, you’ve contradicted yourself, preached to me things that even you don’t uphold, and tried to play my own game with me. I don’t know what’s more foolish, the fact that you still think you’re such a tough badass, act nonchalant and uncaring, or the fact that you are trying to turn the tables on me. It’s rather amusing if you ask me, but I admire your attempts and even your will to try and keep up your act. But I think it’s time you dust yourself off little girl, I’ve drug you through the mud long enough. Hang it up and go home, I’m tired of looking at you.” A faint smile played itself across his lips while he spoke and his voice remained itself in a slightly upbeat sort of tone and sometimes took on that of a monotonous one. Keeping his eyes locked to hers, his head would rear backwards and a single thick grouping of white hair ran across his right eye. Making no attempt to brush it away, his arms would simply cross themselves as he awaited her response.

There was that laughter again. Cordelia began to wonder if that was all he knew how to do. Either that, or in some strange way, she was highly amusing. People had told her in the past she was funny… in a sarcastic, not entirely comical way. Plus, she got herself into terrible situations because she didn’t use her head, and her hypocritical ways sometimes proved to be entertaining. She would have continued to debate this in her head, but Manic had begun to lick his fingers. It would have been disturbing if Cordelia hadn’t done a lot of that herself, with her own blood and with the blood of a lot of innocent people.

“I hope that isn’t meant to be scary…” she said earnestly. It would be a shame if that was the most frightening thing he could come up with at the moment. To ordinary people, someone licking their own blood off their fingers might be highly unsettling, but for someone like Cordelia, who had grown up around death, it didn’t do too much. She had done the same thing to scare people off or to simply be full of herself. Blood had such a nice flavor… so she supposed it was good that he wasn’t allowing it to go to waste.

“My Mother taught me to clean the blood from my hands with my tongue when I finished ripping the life from her. Shall I show you the manners that she taught me…?”

That was definitely creepy, but Cordelia kept a stoic face. “My mommy taught me to clean myself too,” she offered. It wasn’t meant to be a comforting statement, really, or to even identify with him. It was just something to reply with, as well as something that might help him see that he wasn’t the only one who could be dangerous. She doubted he was even trying to act like that, since he was insane and probably didn’t know much of what he was doing, but just in case, it never really hurt. She had been a little killer as a child and though she had calmed down, she still had absolutely no issues with murdering other people to get her own way. She wasn’t necessarily skilled when it came to fighting, but if someone was weaker than her, she found her way of surviving.

“But I don’t think I’d enjoy seeing those manners…” It was really the best decision to make. She had enough injuries right now as it was and didn’t exactly have anyone to help her in case a fight got bad. They were in the middle of no where, alone, in the middle of a storm. The odds wouldn’t be in her favor. “Unless you want to show them to me by using someone else. That would be fine.” As long as it wasn’t her, Cordelia didn’t care. She had to look out for her own well being before anyone else.

“… can I exchange those five points you gave me for a golden star? I would like a golden star, or perhaps…Perhaps I could just take a token of your flesh…”

A golden star would be fine. However, when he asked for a piece of her flesh, Cordelia stood up and took a step back. Keeping her height might be better for the moment. “No,” she said sternly. She had no idea how she should regard him. He wasn’t a child, but he was so mentally unstable that she wondered if she should talk to him as though he were. Talking to him like she would talk to anyone else would be something someone less intelligent than her would do, but Cordelia was certainly not about to treat him with respect. He had done nothing to deserve it from her. “You can have a golden star, but you wouldn’t like my flesh.” She rolled her sleeve up slightly to reveal the solid black flakes on her arm. Hopefully the disgusting color would turn him away from such an idea. There were a few areas that hadn’t received burns, but hopefully trying to show off the wounds would still work.

It was getting colder, and as Cordelia exhaled, her breath was visible. The cold didn’t bother her much, though. She was undead, after all – her body temperature was always rather cold compared to that of any other ‘normal’ person. Without a pulse, her blood couldn’t go anywhere in her to make her warm. She was only warm right after drinking, but that was really only because of the adrenaline. He was laughing again, so she merely waited once again for him to calm himself. She did hope this moment of insanity would go away soon. He had seemed better before she had brought up marriage… there was a part of her that really wanted to know why, but asking right now probably wouldn’t be the best choice to make. Everything right now was a choice of right and wrong, and when around someone like him, Cordelia thought each and every action counted.

“You know, I think you really should practice what you preach. Every step of the way in this confrontation, you’ve contradicted yourself, preached to me things that even you don’t uphold, and tried to play my own game with me…”

A short hum of amusement emitted from her throat when he said that. Though she didn’t often enjoy being put in her place, she wasn’t taking him all too seriously. He was a madman, after all. “Being a hypocrite is so much more fun, though…” she told him. It was true; she got to yell at others for being similar to her and still have a decent amount of pleasurable time. “You should try it some time!” A childish grin crossed her lips at the thought. Seeing as he was so against her ways, she didn’t think he would. It was only a suggestion.

“It’s rather amusing if you ask me, but I admire your attempts and even your will to try and keep up your act. But I think it’s time you dust yourself off little girl, I’ve drug you through the mud long enough. Hang it up and go home, I’m tired of looking at you.”

Her eye twitched as he called her little. She had always hated nicknames, especially ones that weren’t even true. She was a grown woman who could take care of herself; she wasn’t a dependent child who couldn’t survive without a guardian. “Let’s get one thing straight now,” she said. “I’m not little. I’m not sweet heart, I’m not whatever other name you’ve got for me. I’ve got a name and you can use it.” Of course, Cordelia neglected to realize she had never introduced herself. That didn’t matter much at the moment, though. “And I’ll go wherever I please. You aren’t in control of the land, so I’m free to wander, go home, or keep going on my way.”

She didn’t care if what she was saying would upset him anymore than he already was. She didn’t like being told what to do, and she didn’t have to listen to him.

(( OOC: And the pitch comes and oh, what a curve ball it is. Hehe, I'm loving Manic, he's so....Manic. =P ))

When she continued to blather on about this and that, his attention would stray from her and turn itself up towards the sky. The rains seemed to hold no end in sight, but it did jive up a few thoughts in his head. They were thoughts of his past and the words that someone spoke to him of the rain. While he couldn’t recall who had said them to him, his voice would pick up in a near inaudible tone as he repeated them to himself, “When tainted tears stream forth from the heavens, the angels shed their blessings upon the less fortunate, they cry of loved ones, they cry of pain unbearable, and they cry of a life unfulfilled. I am one of those angels and I am crying for you my sweet one, your pain is mine, your soul is mine, and our spirits are one. Never fear, never stray for I will be here constantly; my aim…to protect you.” The words held no meaning to him, but were simply something he had heard. Perhaps at one time they did, but there wasn’t much of his past he could really remembered, the good or the bad. Unless…Unless he slipped within the deranged state he was in only moments prior.

Peeling his weary gaze from the sky and back to her, he had managed to catch the last breath of everything she had said. This was beginning to grow tiresome and it would show as he sighed with a sudden huff, “You’re little to me, because you’re picking a fight with a giant. As for sweet heart, you took that out of context, I wasn’t considering you mine. In fact, if I had done that, I would only be insulting myself. Now as for your name, I couldn’t care what the hell you call yourself, considering you’ve failed to mention it. However, I have the perfect name for you, but I don’t believe I should repeat it.” A wry grin crossed his lips when the final sentence crossed his lips. She was picking a fight that she held no hope of winning and he would prove to her just why she didn’t. Pushing off with his right foot, his right arm would lift and reach over his shoulder to grab the quarter staff that lay strapped to his back. Pulling it from the sheath there, the soft slender design of the thick oak would bring itself to view, adorned by two sections of fabric, one at each end of the staff. They were used as grips to enable him the full range and ability to swing the staff in any fashion he would wish and under any condition.

Bringing the staff to a rest upon his shoulder, his right hand would maintain its grip upon the fabric of one of the ends. While the staff settled, a soft utterance of words would pick up from his lips and a deep jet black mass of tendrils would gently lick their way up and across his form, before rotating around him in smooth succession. Once the spell activated, the soft sound of his voice would pick up, “Flesh is flesh, blood is blood. You possess both, which is well enough for me. I do have one question for you, have you ever seen a real life devil…?” The question would probably strike her as odd or make her question whether or not he had gone mad again. Though, it really didn’t matter to him, she was presenting herself as an obstacle and she would be removed. Up until he had played nice, but now he would show her what kind of person he truly was when crossed. Vampire or not, she stood no chance in this confrontation, especially when he knew every strength and weakness she could possibly possess. She on the other hand would probably know nothing of his kind, their strengths or weaknesses. Even in such a case, he was by far from normal and couldn’t easily be lumped in with the rest of the low-bred demons.

Uttering a few strings of words again, a deep black stretch of tendrils would gently begin to weave, arc, and bind themselves around his upper torso. Once complete, the tendrils would meld together in order to form an armor like appearance which would protect him from most attacks. The armor seemed to hold an eerie appearance to it however, as if there were mortal souls trapped within its glossy black appearance. Something that seemed quite out of the ordinary to most of the people he faced and perhaps would gain him an early advantage. Wasting no further time, another soft utterance would break his lips, but this time it wasn’t something to aid his physical body. Because behind that of Cordelia, the shadows themselves would stretch, elongated and manipulate itself into the appearance of a mortal being wielding a great sword. It would make no move; however, and instead would simply stand behind her, blade drawn and ready to strike her down should the need arise. Again a soft laughter played through Manic’s lips as he studied the woman, “You should have listened, but I suppose I’ll just have to see what your insides look like when I rip them out of you. But I will allow you sometime to prepare yourself, mentally and physically, because I’d like to be a little bit of a sport about wiping your existence from these planes…” All signs of enjoyment and pleasure had long left his face and instead, a stone like adamant appearance would take upon his countenance. The clock had begun to tick and his time he would allow her was limited. It would be best to get this ordeal over and through with so he could go again about his own business….

Well, it appeared he was ignoring her now. Cordelia didn’t pay too much attention as he began to speak nonsense again, since it was only the words of a lunatic. He was speaking about the angels crying, protection… it was all so very fake. She didn’t believe in any of that sort of stuff. Celestials existed here in this world, but she hardly believed for a moment they were the reason it rained. She couldn’t help but wonder if he believed such a far-fetched idea, or if it was merely a random idea that had come to mind. She was too uninterested to bother asking, anyway.

“I wasn’t considering you mine. In fact, if I had done that, I would only be insulting myself.”

Cordelia sighed; there they were, back on that subject again. Even if she had mentioned it before, couldn’t it just die already? He was being just as difficult as she was… at least this whole argument wasn’t entirely her fault. “And I find it insulting to be given such an endearing term by a man I don’t know,” she returned smoothly. It didn’t matter what he had meant by it; she didn’t tolerate being stepped on. “Glad to know we were both insulted by that, though. Maybe next time you won’t say it.” Her dark blue eyes narrowed as she stared at him. There probably wouldn’t be a next time, lucky for her. Imythess was a large place, so she could hopefully avoid him.

As soon as he mentioned that he had something he didn’t want to repeat, the vampire couldn’t help but shake her head. That seemed to happen often. People at the tavern had such names for her, he had names for her, her relatives did… she would have worried about it if she didn’t enjoy being who she was. “Feel free to repeat anything you want,” she told him. “It’s not like I haven’t heard it before.” It didn’t matter to her if he said anything or didn’t. She was who she was, and that was never going to change.

She watched as he grabbed the quarterstaff and brought it over his shoulder. It didn’t look very menacing, and even if it did, Cordelia had her own weapons. She had her sword and her fangs; those were all she really needed. Even if she wasn’t particularly talented with such things, at least knowing she always had some sort of protection with her was comforting. She wasn’t sure she liked where this was heading, though. She hadn’t reached for her own weapon or done anything that she could recall that might, in some way, pose a threat. There was no need for him to reach for a weapon unless he had a sudden different choice of course for this friendly conversation. He was so insecure that Cordelia was sure he could have imagined something or, for whatever reason, thought fighting her might be entertaining.

“I do have one question for you, have you ever seen a real life devil…?”

She didn’t like the sound of that. The blackness that surrounded him made her slightly uneasy and Cordelia bit her lip, wondering how she should reply. There was no point in being gentle with him anymore; it seemed that it wouldn’t work. Nothing was going to work when dealing with a person like this. “That depends on what you would consider a devil,” she said. She had seen her share of gruesome things in her twenty-seven years of life, but she couldn’t know what he would consider bad enough to be a devil. She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

The armor seemed familiar, in some way or another. Cordelia rested a hand near her hip where the hilt of her sword rested, wishing it wouldn’t have had to come to this. After the whole battle with Fehade, she wasn’t sure how up to fighting she was. There was no way she would be able to take a rain check, either; it looked like he was already far too serious to let her get out of this. It didn’t matter, anyway… she always somehow managed to get out of fights and rough times alive. She had a long life ahead of her and she wasn’t going to cut that short in any way.

She turned her head slightly to look over her shoulder, watching the shadows come together to form the body of the mortal. Great, now she was even outnumbered! First she had too battle a tiefling and his ugly, fire breathing demon of a horse, and now she was being forced to fight an insane man who could control shadows. Was she going to ever meet someone slightly normal in this place?

“You should have listened, but I suppose I’ll just have to see what your insides look like when I rip them out of you.”

“Pfft!” Cordelia exclaimed. Now he was being awfully full of himself. “Yeah, right, let’s see it happen.” He wasn’t going to spill her insides. Dead as she was, she needed those organs to live, and she didn’t plan on losing them any time soon. She didn’t have anyone to help her this time, but she didn’t need them. She didn’t need anyone to save her… all she needed was to somehow get away from this creep in one piece. Hopefully his bark would prove to be worse than his bite.

“But I will allow you sometime to prepare yourself, mentally and physically, because I’d like to be a little bit of a sport about wiping your existence from these planes…”

“Oh, how merciful of you,” the vampire said dryly. She looked down at her weapon and unsheathed it, not bothering to take his advice and prepare herself at all. All she needed was a weapon; she had been in so many fights that the sight of blood hardly fazed her anymore. “Let’s just get this over with, since you seem to have something to pick with me.” She lifted her weapon, her muscles tensing slightly as she waited for whatever he or the shadow mortal behind her would do. She was quite aware that this wasn’t the best time to get in a fight, what with the mud and the rain, but he wasn’t giving her much of a choice at all. “I’ve got to say, you’re being a bit hasty. You don’t even have a reason to want me dead…”

Everyone always seemed to have a reason to want Cordelia Marion Brooks dead. She should have expected it with her wonderful luck…

“Loraina…” called a voice within the back of his mind, a voice that sounded all too familiar. It was a voice he would wake to and a voice he would fall asleep to and that was his own. Image after image flittered through his head in cryptic distortion, but they would be quickly halted when she spoke up. There was no purpose for her to keep talking, no matter how big and brash she acted, there was no hope of swaying his decision. All he really wished for was that she would just shut her trap, because it was becoming tiring to listen to her. Not many exhausted his patience, but she was one of the few. In a way, it sort of made him smile as he recollected for a moment over the only two who accomplished such a goal. They were Avarice and Loraina, two strong individuals even if they lacked the ability to fight.

Heaving an exasperated sigh at the woman’s final words, his eyes would slowly close themselves to welcome on the darkness they provided, “Contradictions, contradictions. You wish to get this over with and then you stall with yet more useless prattle. In short, I want you dead because you’re another obstacle presenting itself in my path. I told you to leave, you failed to heed and now you’re screwed, simple enough?” Opening his eyes in a soft flutter, his metallic hues would adjust their gaze back upon her for a brief instance. Pushing forward again in a jeering half staggered walk, a sweet smile would grace his face, “The devil I speak rests deep within me and if you’re lucky, I might let him surface to feast on your corpse…” A soft hiss would escape his parted lips as he lengthened the S in the final word in order to add extra emphasis to it. While he continued to close the distance between the two of them, his left hand would dip into his jacket pocket briefly. Once it emerged again, there would be nothing visible in his hand, but he would allow her little time to think on it. Pushing off sharply with his right foot, he would send himself into a sudden rush towards the woman. At that exact moment, his left hand would flick behind him and toss a small black object to the ground behind him, hopefully unnoticed due to her focus upon his rapid approaching form. Bringing the staff off from his shoulder, his left hand would move up to join his right, gripping it much like that of a baseball bat.

The second he would approach her, his head would nod towards the shadow behind her. At the same exact time, the shadow would swing the large black blade down towards the shoulder of the woman, while Manic swung the staff out like a bat for Cordelia’s left cheek, but missing only to lightly graze past her nose with the tip. As he continued the swing, his feet would falter dead in their tracks, sending him into a half sliding stop. Again a familiar spell placed through his lips in a near inaudible fashion, once again turning his form into that of an ethereal image and allowing him to pass without resistance through Cordelia’s body so he was now behind her. Once he finally slid to a dead stop, his eyes would quickly cast over his shoulder, watching as the shadow creature’s blade passed undamagingly through the woman’s body due to it being an illusion.

Meanwhile, the small object previously thrown backwards by Manic had begun to dissolve into a fine black mist and expand and shape itself into that of a large black armored knight. No section of his body was visible on the metal clad beast of a man, at least nothing but the blood red eyes that would peer ominously through the small slits of his helmet. The knight had taken notice of his Master’s actions and proceeded to remove his scythe from his back and proceed in succession after Manic. When Manic passed effortlessly through the woman and suddenly manifested behind her, his arms would jerk up, bringing the scythe high above his head. And just as quick as the action had taken place, both of his arms would swing downwards, bringing the scythe down in a whistling arc for the woman’s head in hopes to connect, but would do so in hopes to make her move back from the attack. Which if she had moved back from the blow, Manic would proceed to spin and bring the blunt end of the staff out to the base of the back of her head in hopes of simply just knocking her out cold….

“The devil I speak rests deep within me and if you’re lucky, I might let him surface to feast on your corpse…”

Talking like that was so pointless. Cordelia had heard all sorts of threats before about people wanting to kill her, wanting to wound her, wanting to torture her… really, she was indifferent to it by now. The only thing about this time that truly worried her was that he seemed extremely serious about it. She had no idea how strong he was, but already he had the upper hand for owning those fancy spells.

“I’m shaking in my boots,” the woman said dryly to his emphasis on the word corpse. She knew she was a walking contradiction; she didn’t need him to tell her any of that. Surely he hadn’t expected her to attack first, after he had acted first; it wasn’t very logical in her opinion. She watched as his hand went to his pocket, unsure if that would end up being pertinent. A lunatic had a weapon and was ready to attack her and was already using spells – would it really be significant to worry about whatever could be in his pocket? It could be a piece of lint, or maybe his hand was cold, or… whatever. Cordelia decided not to care.

He pushed off toward her and Cordelia bent slightly, hopefully ready for whatever he had planned. As he swung toward her, she arched backward away from the quarterstaff, glad that it had only brushed her nose. Luckily, there was no pain. She inhaled sharply when he passed through her and the weapon behind her did the same, and leapt forward. Again, there had been no pain, but she felt like she was crawling within her own skin. This was the first time such a thing had happened, but it didn’t take her much to come to the conclusion she didn’t like being moved through.

She hadn’t made a single offensive move, but she still hadn’t been beaten yet. Cordelia’s dark blue eyes lifted to meet the red slits in the helmet of the shadow in front of her; it seemed she should have, in fact, paid attention to what had been in his hand. It tossed a scythe toward Manic, and her grip tightened on her sword. She lifted it above her as the scythe descended downward to block it, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

“You’re tricky… I’ll give you that,” she credited. “But I don’t like those shadow men very much, and they don’t seem very useful at all.” With her sword against his scythe, the woman lifted her leg and aimed a kick for his abdomen. It didn’t matter whether she fought with her sword, limbs, or both – all was fair when it came to fighting.

When the woman locked weapons with the beast of man, Morikov, and spoke her words of uselessness about his creatures. An inane laughter would kick up from him, his position still holding behind her, but he would press no action as of yet. Instead he would simply observe her as she tried to fend off the Dark Knight. It was the single most foolish mistake she had made through the entire night and probably in her entire life. The unknown was something that would be best left alone or left unchallenged, but she charged headlong into locked weapons with it. A costly mistake it would be for when his laughter subsided, his voice would pick up in a dark menacing tone, “Morikov, end this woman’s bantering and show her just where she stands.” When the last words took past his lips, a soft thunk could be heard from the Dark Knight. Lifting a curious brow at the woman’s action to attempt and knock away the Knight, a soft laughter would emit forth. Oh, it was all too great, this woman was nothing but shear entertainment, more so now that she was fighting than she was prior.

Heeding his Master’s request, the dark red eyes that bore into hers would only darken further as a few archaic words broke past his mask. The first being a spell known as Draconic Might, which increased his strength ten fold. It was a bit of an overkill, but according to Manic it was necessary and there was no way he was about to question it. A few more archaic and cryptic words would break forth again, this time being the spell called, “Cause Fear.” The spell would disrupt the woman’s ability to defend herself even semi intelligently and on top of that. The first signs that the spell would take place upon her mind, the Knight would begin to press his scythe down against her sword with all the might he could. If she did not feign out from beneath the entire confrontation and forfeit her blade to the mud bellow, she would surely crumple beneath the shear force and power of the man. Though, what was slightly odd about the whole ordeal is the fact that the pointed blade of the scythe held position just behind her head, which would lead reason to believe that the creature was not intent upon killing her, but instead simply disabling her from continuing combat.

Whatever the reason was sure enough to reside upon that of Manic, who patiently awaited Cordelia’s next movement against the Dark Knight, before making a move of his own…

Cordelia rolled her eyes when Manic spoke. He had to have his pawns do his work for him. Well, there went any respect she might have had for him at all. If he was going to fight her, he should have been fighting her – not spells, or shadow knights, or anything else. He was just like Fehade, who had used his horse to aid him along with countless spells. It was pathetic, really, that all their strength came simply from spells.

He began muttering words she couldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter whether or not she could comprehend them – what mattered was what their effect would be. She swallowed as the second spell was cast, a nervous pit twisting in her stomach. It wasn’t a very familiar feeling, but Cordelia recognized that she was afraid. She had no idea what she had to be afraid of, but she knew it had to be because of that spell. Her reactions were always different when she was afraid; she just hoped she wouldn’t end up looking like a fool.

Her breathing hastened somewhat and she chewed on her lower lip, accidentally drawing blood. The woman’s arms were beginning to shake out of fatigue; had she not been forced into that spell, she could have held her position for a while longer. The knight seemed stronger now, too… this was just great. A soft, hopeless, nearly inaudible whimper emitted from her as she went over possible outcomes in her mind. Being afraid had scrambled her slightly and she wasn’t doing a very good job as deciding what she could do, but there wasn’t much she could do with a blade over her, now was there? Cordelia hadn’t noticed that it was twisted in such a way that it wouldn’t end up hurting her, so on top of everything, she had that to worry about that.

The sword slipped slightly in her grasp and she swallowed again. The force was becoming too much for her, and within another moment, she had fallen to the ground in a slightly twisted heap. Cordelia yelped as she collided with the soft, sticky ground, her sword not doing her much good now that she was like this. She was half tempted to beg not to be killed, but that was mostly because of the fear spell that had been cast. There was only a miniscule part of her that would genuinely grovel. Instead, she looked up at the knight with a defiant, albeit quite clearly frightened, look to her eyes.

The dark knight’s weapon shook with the sudden application of force and the still defiant resilience of the woman’s sword, which temporarily held back her inevitable defeat. Within mere seconds the swords strength gave way, as did the woman’s and crumple her would to a heap to the ground. Carried by the force of his application, the long curved blade of the scythe would careen into the ground just above her head and the pole would hold position in a diagonal angle above her head. Using the scythe to maintain his balance, the Knight would push off from the weapon, abandoning it only to return him to a hovering and towering stance over the woman bellow. Spasmodically the creatures hand would tighten and untighten itself into a woven fist, before jolting out in an expanded fashion to bring its palm out to her neck. Though, before he would continue further the long oaken staff of Manic’s would place itself against his mask to falter his movements.

“That’s enough, you’re dismissed” came the soft tone of Manic’s voice. When the beast retracted its scythe from above the woman’s head and stepped away from the both of them, Manic would lower himself to a crouch just above the woman’s head. She had looked so innocent, so vulnerable and so beautiful laying there the way she was it. It almost made him over look the fact that she was an annoying pain the neck who needed a serious attitude adjustment. As he peered down at her, his eyes would twitch slightly while his head tilted from one side to the other. Was this the way she used to be, or was this truly just 100 percent the affect the spell had held over her? Heaving a wayward sigh, a lone hand would part its way up to her features to brush a few clinging strands of hair from her face. A faint smile traced his lips, before his eyes would slide shut for a moment and a few words would utter past his lips, “If you can’t beat the minions, what chance do you stand against me? Besides, it’s my code to fight a woman unless she gives me physical reason to do so. Granted, you did, but you didn’t even hit me, but it’s not important…” Indeed it was of no true importance as to why this confrontation started, but he was about to end it in the only means he knew. There would be no escape for her; she would have to accept the defeat that was deemed upon her.

Rising up from his crouched position, his eyes would stare down at her with a look of compassion. Could he actually do this, to take a woman’s life, especially one like her…? If she were any other woman, he would have and could have without a second’s thought, but something about her allured him to her. Releasing a sigh, both of his hands would take up the staff near the center and bring it to a straight up and down position in front of his face. Uttering a few soft words, a faint misty fog would emit forth from around him, encircling a 10X10 area. It was another spell, a spell known as sleep which would near instantaneously put a person to slumber. But before she could drift to slumber, both of his arms would thrust downwards, bringing the blunt end of the staff down to what would appear to be her face. Though, at the last second, it would veer off to the side of her head just after the same instant most people succumbed to the slumber of the spell. With a soft plop the end of the staff would implant itself into the mud just off to the side of her head and he would once again drop to a crouch, examining her appearance for any signs that she somehow resisted the spell….

Cordelia stared at the weapon at first before closing her eyes tightly and attempting to bury her eyes into the ground. If that thing was going to kill her, then she didn’t want to witness it. Whenever and however she died, she just hoped it was in a way she didn’t have to see. It would have been nice to die in a big scene, so long as she didn’t have to view herself mutilated. However, the blade dug into the ground just above her. Cautiously, the woman poked open one eye, staring at the scythe before sighing in relief and almost laughing. She had made such a big reaction over nothing!

… And then his fist was headed toward her neck. Marvelous! Cordelia was too helpless on the ground to move and she was preparing herself for the worst, but Manic wound up calling the knight off. Her head fell on her arm as she let out another breath to release her inward tension. Maybe this guy wasn’t as bad as he came off at first. He seemed to have a bit of mercy in him, at least. Cordelia usually saw traits like that as flaws, but if it saved her life, then by all means, it was wonderful.

The blade was taken out of the ground and Manic crouched down to look at her. Her bottom lip protruded in an angry pout and her mind began to swim in search of some witty insult she could give. Nothing came out of her mouth, though; her stubborn, defiant facial expression was all she really needed to display her distaste in the whole situation that had just occurred.

As soon as he touched her hair, Cordelia lifted a slender hand to batter him away, though she didn’t do a very good job. She was slightly disoriented from the fear spell, unfortunately. “Don’t touch me,” she grumbled. Even it hadn’t been movement to harm her, she still didn’t like it.

“Granted, you did, but you didn’t even hit me, but it’s not important…”

“All you do is talk,” Cordelia said exasperatedly. The sound of his voice was becoming tiresome, especially his explanations as to why she would never beat him. “Those minions were pretty tough, I’d like to see you do it!” She could have come up with something so much more ripping if that darn spell hadn’t affected her like this. She still had a pit in the bottom of her stomach and was quite afraid of saying the wrong thing and making him go off on another spin of insanity. If he did it again, she couldn’t be so sure he’d be as… forgiving, and it wasn’t a risk Cordelia really wanted to take.

He stood up, and Cordelia never took her eyes off of him. The look of kindness on his face made her feel slightly nauseous, and though she wanted to close her eyes to spare herself the thought, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Manic didn’t seem like the kind of person she could trust, and she wasn’t about to leave herself in such a vulnerable position with a stranger.

It didn’t seem like she would have a choice, though. Another spell was cast, and right away Cordelia began to feel the results. Her eyelids felt heavy, but she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stay awake by causing herself pain. It had worked when her father was giving her the most boring lessons of her life – but she somehow doubted it would have any real counter action on magic.

“Don’t think I’m gonna forget your… crap…” Cordelia muttered, her eyelids closing. She bit her lip again, tearing the flesh slightly. Her eyes opened for a brief moment and she gave Manic the most piercing, blood chilling stare she could manage. It wasn’t the greatest she had ever given in her life time, but hopefully it would be enough. “Dirty son of…” She didn’t end up finishing. As strong as she was, all the spells had taken over her and she had yielded to the sleeping spell.

The Dark Knight stirred restlessly at her words, before she fell into the sweet embrace of sleep. Gripping the pole of the scythe tightly, each hand would simultaneously grind itself one way and then the other. How dare she speak to his Master that way, what an ungrateful woman she was. After all, Manic had spared her life, the least she could do was thank him, but instead she resulted to insult. If Manic wasn’t going to do anything, then he would punish this loose tongued woman himself. Without waiting for an order the large knight swung the scythe up, before bringing down and towards the center of the woman’s chest.

In a mere flash of movement, Manic’s staff would thrust its blunt edge against the blade of the scythe with enough force to direct it from its course and send it careening instead off into the mud off to the woman’s side. Maintaining the awkward crouched position Manic now found himself in; his eyes would narrow and drift up towards the Dark Knight hovering over him. He would speak up in a deep dark commanding and forceful tone, “Touch the woman and I will remove any hope of you keeping your life. A bond like yours to a world like mine can be severed just as easily as it was created. Don’t take it for granted…” The two of them often had conflictions of interests and it usually resulted in fighting. Those select few fights resulted in Manic winning and Morikov losing, but that did not contradict the Knight’s strength in the least. In fact, out of all the people he despised fighting, Morikov was one of them. Because if he wasn’t on his toes, the beast of a Knight would easily annihilate any hopes of defeating him. The sheer damage the man could create in one single contact was something to behold in wonderment, but his attacks were so slow that it didn’t stack evenly with that of Manic’s speed.

When Manic knocked his scythe aside, it sunk into the earth with a sickening sucking noise and instantly raised a sudden curiosity in him. What was the reason behind this, because this certainly wasn’t like his Master. Deciding to question it, a deep gravely voice would emit forth from the slitted helm, “Lord Manic, why keep her alive? I don’t see a purpose in it.”

With a dry tone, a few words would flow eloquently from his lips, “Just call me crazy…” The word really held no answer to the Knight’s question, but then again why did he have to answer someone who held no rank against him? Besides, even if he wanted to, there was no simple answer to the chaotic decision he just made. What purpose served to keep a woman who despised him alive, no less one that he didn’t exactly fall upon good terms with. Perhaps it was a fleeting act of kindness, or perhaps he saw something in her throughout their conversation and battle. Whatever the reason, there was no point in questioning it. It was done now and couldn’t be reversed…

Resituating himself again in his position, he would scoot around to her side and scoop both of his arms beneath her body; one near her upper back and the other beneath the back of her legs. Releasing a faint grunt, both of his legs would power themselves upwards until his body came to an erect position, holding the limp body of the woman in his arms. Almost as if in a possessed state, his eyes would roll off to the side in which he turned to face. One foot in front of the other, the soft sloshing of his boots hitting the mud was the only sound other than the rain that could be heard. The destination determined that he would head was none other than that of the Village of Kellen. “But then what?” came a voice in the back of his head. As if he knew? Perhaps he would just dump her off and vanish like nothing had happened. Or perhaps he would offer her off for some gold trinkets, whatever the decision it would not be known until they had arrived at the Village.