::xTwilightx:: please read if applying for Psycho

[psycho]

Shh..
The sound might have made her giggle, if not out-loud than roughly inside. She’d seen it on TV, in movies; the ever so obnoxious children as they peeped a rather unexpected burst of noise from their anxious mouths and the following hush of their elder care. A bubble of laughter followed, like the domino effect as two other small giggles teetered behind the original until the entire room fell silent again save for the distant and often crackle that was the flipping of a page within a book. She smiled to herself, sighed audibly then, and slowly turned her attention back to the pages before her. Her fingers were soft and rather particular in their movements; a quick glide over the page, a pinch as she kicked over unto the awaiting words of the next sheet. Here she was invisible, more so than in the outside world. Her silence was impossible and yet held such casual peace it seemed anything but unnatural in her presence. Twilight seemed to hang within the air maybe more than usual; a brisk fire spatter of reds and golds; mingled with pinks that hung through the widows as if said light were a liquid pooling around the exposed floors and whomever sat comfortably in its splay of illumination. Psycho herself was one of those whom, seated almost neatly in a cushioned chair, leaned forth to the table before her, head on the heel of her free hand, elbow on the edge of the table. Her other arm rested at the opposite side of the book, fingers turned and ready when it was she’d needed to flip unto the following pages.

But it was her smile, her ease of posture that could fool any wandering eyes.
A simple story? Mm..not quite...more or less an ongoing study into a world she’d still not completely understood. This city and these people…all the names that swam in a dizzy dim circle around through her weary head. They meant something, all of them; but what still remained her biggest unsolved mystery.
The other day..there’d been a woman speaking, chattering on about something or another when a word…or was it? Fell like a swift drop into the subject. And like a drop the ripples that followed were brief leaving behind little trace of their origin.
But…it wasn’t a word was it…it was a name, a name so..so strangely familiar and so far lost in a broken memory that’d she’d little time to comprehend that the emotion which followed the single repeat was in fact recognition.
But why? And who…who was it that stung her mind like a hard migraine? What was the name…? And this face-

AHH!

A scream echoed through the enormous room, more audible than ever with the larger space, a squeal really, that had her stiff in her chair eyes wide with surprise. A child bolted from somewhere to her left, swept beneath her chair and darted down the next isle. The other two followed but in sprawls of laughter, their not so swift caretaker muttering after them in hot pursuit.
Psycho cleared her throat, relaxed in a heavy slump back into her chair, then, pressing two fingers to the ache in her temple sighed in defeat. Tonight wasn’t the night…once again. Her head needed rest, maybe she’d put a couple days between her and discovering her memories this time…it’d save her brain all this overdrive anyway. With a breath lodged still in her throat she flipped closed The history of Azmith and stood, gathering her things within her left hand, the book within her right, drawing one last glance over the darkening library; its insides now beginning to light artificially as night crept slowly over the evening.

[Azriel]

Wandering, as always, hands in pockets, mp3 in place; this time the screams of Slipknot blaring into his eardrums. The library was always a quite place, a place to rest his weary thoughts, drown them out with his music. He wandered inside, ignoring the keeper's warning of closing time.

Slowly, he walked. Footsteps echoing like whispered memories. Memories that seemed to trap his mind beneath the music, stabbing him. How wreched. His face was set in hard lines, when his eyes fell upon an object that set his mind whirling down through time, back to then, back to her. But no, this wasn't the same. His mind floundered as his liquid gold eyes searched, remembered. Her. It was the other femmefrom that time of blood. "Psycho..." her name was whispered so quietly, like a whispered breath, the sound of an autum leaf touching the ground for the first time.

The silence was deafening and he realized the battery of his mp3 had died. So he stoon, bathed in the ever draining twilight and stared at her, as he had that day in the forest, so long ago.

[psycho]

A man stood there…still as the inanimate surroundings, but far more ideal to look upon. It seemed both shared an interest for that moment, her strange colored eyes of two different shades, one blue one green, locked with the endless mystery of a molten gold. His eyes were fire, withholding that same distracting dazzle that denied her a chance to stray her gaze elsewhere. Ah, handsome or more was he but it wasn’t the looks that caught her entirely off guard. The way he was looking at her his lips parting to mutter something she’d entirely missed, was so strange, so familiar…her heart was already slamming against her chest making it impossible for her to catch her breath- but all in a mere instant, a forgotten second that was shattered when the book slid from rigid fingers and thumped solidly to the table. She squeaked, a high whimper that had her newly free hand striking to her chest, to her heart and its impossible pace; her eyes darted now to the book rather than him, in a startled fear that made her suddenly quiver.
“Hah-“ she breathed, an audible exhale cut short with a mindless gnaw at her lower lip.
GOOD LORD…What more and idiot can you make yourself? Just walk away..
And she did, quickly in-fact, ignoring the prying curiosity of what emotion now sketched his poetic features. She felt like some love-struck teenage girl (no longer considering the true facts) and, with the package, an idiot. Little did she know it was much more than visual attraction that had her caged mind anxious…
Surprise was swept clean of her features now, and instead now lay a frown- frustration more or less. She gathered the book back into her arm, turned and stiffly journeyed back where it was she had retrieved the book, placing three shelves and four isles between them now.
“Getting so worked up about some..guy.” She huffed, rolled her shoulder, and stuffed the volume back into its place.
More..
“What..?”
There’s more…
She wasn’t honestly talking to herself…dear god she was infact loosing it and she’d not even started the journey toward her mid-life crisis.
Her palm came to her forehead, the ball of it pressed to her right eyebrow in a hard rub. Never mind her insanity she just wanted to go home, go home and do whatever she pleased, which might have meant convincing ones-self of possessing sanity.

[Azriel]

[OOC: I like the new siggy ^_^]

It was then he felt the irresistable urge to follow her. Silenlty he appeared beside her as she put the book away, placing one arm up against the bookshelf and the other oth his hip, he looked ather through his hair.

"What's your name?" the question was voiced with the sly, innocent, curiosity that a thief might use when asking for some undercover secret. He ignored the librarian who, yet again, reminded him they were closing only to ask a second question of the tasteful blond before him, "Shall we?" inferring that he would accompany her out into the night, perhaps to the park or the fountain, or even down the street to her house. He knew her, if he were blind he would know her. Her scent, the memories. The only other that had ever cracked his heart to reveal what lie within.

It appeared she had forgotten, or perhaps it wasn't her, thus the inquiry for her name. He stood awaiting the replies to both questions and drinking in her slightly changed appearance with his eyes befores sniffing, and tossing the hair from his face, eyeing her. He watched the ways she floundered from him, surely this couldn't be her, not the psycho he remebered...but her scent.

That scent of wildflowers and cinnamon of rain and the forest; it was all too familiar. It was like his childhood, his past, had all come to remind him of that time. However the lighter side, his past had been so dark and full of death, like he had been, but also like him, there was a small portion of light. Psycho had been the second one after her to intrigue the light in his soul. Yes, he feared killing her, just as anyone, however he remembered...she was the only one who he had ever called friend, and like Nicomae, knew how to aviod, or cope with his darkness. She was not like any of the others that had tried to understand, she had been there, that day in the cavern, she had seen his darkness at it's fullest. There were only three in the world that had seen it, Nicomae, Phsycho, and her. He would not think her name, nor would he speak it, that time was better left to be forgotten, though he could not forget it, for the light that had touched his soul unharmed stood before him.

He pitied the questions in her eyes, the loss of memory. There was no way she could remeber the darkness, perhaps he could start anew. He could never love her, it would be the same as it had then, he'd snap. No more death, never again...and that meant no love. However, if he could meet her, then perhaps....this book was left to be written by the quill placed in her hand.

[psycho]

She was distracted for a single moment and he was there; there when she turned to but whiff his scent…his…scent? It was as if time paused for a moment the world closing around her. The pupils of her eyes drew so close to their center, small dots mid wide oceans of blue and green. It took her a moment to notice her mouth had been slung open, wide, lacking an exhale as the breath had once again found itself lodged in the base of her throat.
Her mind slammed from present to past scenes like meshed colors however very much visible to herself. She remembered…she remembered with the first scented taste of his natural perfume; that rugged mingle of male and wild with dappled sweets of the river, the breeze. It was incredible and horrifying in a single wicked second but enough to drive her into him her arms around his solid frame her face to his chest- an embrace that presented no hope of near release.
Remember
“Azriel, Azriel, my- you- I-nuh..” she shrugged against him, into him her fingers tight as they fisted balls into his shirt so tight may her knuckles go white with strain. “Its me! Oh god its me, Psycho,” She wasn’t crying though her voice audibly wavered, maybe laughter or maybe a relief that was almost painful in its presence. And for a moment she only took him in, dragging a breath of his smell and those that lingered upon his attire, his flesh, then breathed again, a cascade of cool carbon along skin.
She pulled away, though her hands remained clutched to him, now at his forearms, as if letting him go would end in all becoming a façade of existence. Her eyes searched his, but withholding now something new.
“I- god its so cliché but I cant believe its…you..its actually- where have you been? What happened? You disappeared and I hadn’t known where you’d all gone- Nicomae! Is she here?..”
Her questioned poured from her, almost so fast they may have mixed together and made less sense but what she felt, what it was to finally know they were here, he was here; was an emotion entirely unexplainable to her.
“How did I not know it was you…” her hands left his forearms, the back of her right (hand) lifting to press to her brow as it strained in a struggled frown. “Im…im so sorry I guess I-..I’d forgotten after all this time..I made myself forget…” She trailed, slowly, her words drifting away along with her thoughts, a silent journey back through the knowledge that once more presented itself to her from the pits of her own mind.
Her hand rolled away as her eyes found his again and she breathed…

[Azriel]

His eyes widened at her sudden motion, then touch, touch, he had not been touched in so long. Last time it had happened he had gone insane, lost his mind, resulting in the near death of her. Psycho’s confirmation of her name and his present form were the only things that stopped him from the instinct to stop the touch, and destroy it’s source. He found himself petting her hair nostalgically as she clung to him, his eyes staring off at the windows taking in what had just happened. As she stepped away, questioning like a crazed pup, he only sent a seductive glance at the complaining Librarian, and thus caused the older woman promptly stop talking, however her returning gaze now asked him to please leave.

Sighing he resigned himself to comply and put a hand at the small of Psycho’s back,
“We should go,” his voice purred as it always did when he was happy about something, and without waiting for any form of response, he walked her out into the chilled autumn air of the street. He then put his arm down, and shoved his hands into his pockets, absent-mindedly grasping the dead mp3 that lay there and began to pick through her questions.
“Nicomae and her daughter are here, but she almost never leaves the forest,” he suddenly thought about the direction he was walking and changed course, there was no way he was going back to his apartment, perhaps somewhere else... “As for me, after I was exiled, I came here to start all over, and I did…” he left out the part about Azmith, feeling that his divine heritage might be too much for her to handle. “I have a pack now, all of them female,” including the damn goddess that started the whole thing, he added mentally, rolling his eyes at the last word…female…It was strange to be treated so differently, he had been treated like the monster he was before, and now, was treated like some teenage heartthrob…not that he minded such attention, but it did get annoying when it came to the girls constantly confessing their love for him…or when they stalked him. His thoughts danced away from the most recent femme that had done both and he came back to the present, deciding to inquire to their destination,

“How long have you been living here?” It was his turn for questions, and some part deep in his mind twitched, as if some part of him wanted to say something else, but his mind forbid it, “Home is not somewhere I want to go, so if you have somewhere else in mind…” he trailed off, letting the words speak for themselves. He knew exactly where he wanted to go, but he left the decision up to her. His place was quiet, for all but the stream that flowed peacefully nearby, but there were always other options, the snowy peak, the cliffs, the park, a place to eat…he thought as he noticed a tinge of hunger and realized he hadn’t eaten since his denial of Zylania. His way of being sorry, but he would never admit it.

He looked to Phsycho, watching her demeanor as she walked, she looked cold, but he kept still. He would not offer the affectionate warmth that any other polite wolf would have done; it was not Azriel’s way, however his eyes held warmth for the first time in a long, long while.

[psycho]

She listened, he spoke, the usual, though she’d barley noticed when they left the building, stepped down unto the sidewalk and began a lazy stroll to anywhere or maybe nowhere; it didn’t matter anyway, the smile that hung effortlessly to the edges of her mouth was enough to say she was more that content.
“I see…hm well I suppose if she did settle here I would have run into her earlier…” the comment was more or less to herself. It was true, if Nicomae had indeed thrived in the city as much as she did the forest there was no doubt Psycho would have caught her sooner or latter; but in some ways meeting Azriel instead had its quirks. “A pack? Wooow and I figured you for the loner guy type eh,” her grin widened playful, she gave him a little poke then danced to the question he posed her “Not too long, maybe a month or two I haven’t been keeping track. I enjoy it better here though…the forest is nice but it gets kinda lonely ya’know?” She slid her hands away into the pockets of her jacket the cool slowly getting to her hands as it did so easily; the fur of its hood separated, wavered as the wind weaved through its grey and tan bulk.

They could go to her place…her…half unpacked place anyway. Maybe she was lazy but in all honesty she had so much stuff she’d not been entirely sure what to do with it. So her apartment…well that could wait. At least until she was sure he hadn’t recently acquired OCD or something. “Hm...how about that café at the corner? I’ve been meaning to go but,” her shoulders rolled in a shrug, “I guess I keep spacing it. I heard its good…” He probably knew, so she supposed trailing off would leave room for his input. She wasn’t hungry enough for a full out meal but possibly a snack or…soup or something would be nice. Even coffee…but god knew she’d be up till two in the morning that way…oh well.

[Azriel]

Leaving the cafe, Azriel was satisfied with his full stomach. He recalled his earlier comment about the pack, "I had every intention of keeping it that way, but..." Azmith came into my life and, "I found myself with Nicomae and Naomi," and three wolves made a pack, "and then Azzy and Zylania." Her playful poke would have usually stirred a visicous, violent, and unconcious retaliation, however nothing had happened...perhaps his darkness was fading.

Now as they wandered back down the street their earlier problem posed itself again. Where to go. Perhaps home wasn't so bad...no, he wasn't going home tonight, his forest was where he wanted to be. It was not like him to speak of his destination, but he simply began making his way to the park, the one place that bordered the wild forest, the place where he belonged.