Open your soul, maybe lose control

[Anonymous]

He hated the looks he got sometimes – those questioning glances he got whenever he sat down at a bar to have a swing of mead, wondering, How old is this guy, anyway? At five feet, five inches, some of the guys in this tavern could've picked him up and thrown him out if they wanted to, but the stare from those pale grey eyes told them they might want to rethink such a decision. The tattoos that cloaked his wrists, and the dark hood he slung over his head spoke mysteries to the normies, but for Reks, they were just weapons – arms he held to intimidate, to threaten with wordlessly with his eyes and stance alone. It normally worked. It left him alone, but not lonely.

The only company he held was a mug of spiced mead and a plate of Hyoite's famous crab. He only sipped at his mead, head held down, and his hood covering most of his face. The upside to having cat ears (that he would forever hide from this world) was that he could hone in on every conversation being held in this tavern, and keep up with each and every one of them, all at the same time. They spoke of trivial things – of the fishing season, of the stagnant, ever frozen weather, and of family and friends. No one seemed to speak of the mages – or of magic itself. Perhaps he really was amongst normies here, but that wasn't what Reks wanted in the slightest.

He should rest, he knew – it would do good to give himself a vacation, wouldn't it? But he wasn't sure he knew of anyone who would come to this frozen wasteland for a vacation – maybe a quick stop for the mead here, sure, but besides that, there was nothing notable, except the family atmosphere the taverns and pubs seemed to hold. As he held his mug of ale out, he caught sight of his tattoos – spiraling, branching out across his wrists, a symbol of the curse, of his taint. And he smirked a little – because, if not for the curse, maybe he wouldn't be here at all?

So what, if no mages lurked in this town – was it a crime to enjoy himself? Reks laughed to himself, holding his mug to the bartender, who seemed apathetic and indifferent to the eighteen year old sitting at his counter. Peering at the barkeep from over his mug, Reks asked, "Not much entertainment around here, is there?"

He seemed to strike a nerve. The bartender looked up from the cup he was cleaning, and cut his eyes at Reks, unnerved. "Normally, there ain't," he muttered, with a crooked drawl. "You're a city boy, ain'tcha? I can tell by that look in your eyes. You're probably all stone and no heart – just like all tourists who come here, just to sit at the bar and run their mouths, criticizin'."

Reks cut his eyes at the barkeep, but did not put down his mug. There was that stare again – and in that moment, he thanked the spirits for his eyes, for intimidation really was the best sort of skill to have. The barkeep could not hold the mage hunter's gaze, and returned to his cleaning, grumbling. "We're supposed to have entertainment tonight," the keep grumbled again, cleaning his cup more vehemently. "A dancer. Paid good money for her." He gestured toward the tavern's stage with his damp washcloth. "You should get a good seat while you can."

He raised an eyebrow, curious, and flipped a coin the barkeep's way for his trouble. He had been wrong – Reks wasn't a city boy, far from it. He had grown up on the Isles, where troubles were supposed to be figments of the imagination. Maybe the streets did harden me, Reks thought as he left the bar, moving up closer to the stage to get a better seat, taking his mead with him. But I'd rather be tough than soft. So he'd relax, for now. But he knew there were mages in Hyoite, somewhere – and he'd find them, take them back where they belonged.

But even machines, Reks knew, took breaks. Didn't he deserve a vacation?

[Anonymous]

As the old clock in the corner stroke midnight and the dull bell rang out... ding... dong... ding... dong... Slowly fading away just as the lights in the tavern did. Everything but the dim candle light on some of the tables, and the growing light that soon engulfed the stage. And just like the bells faded, this ominous music started to play.

First, there was a rustling behind these thick black curtains. A body pressed against them, moving.. seductively, to each beat. Then a pure white hand snaked out, finger charms attached to the thumb and index finger being snapped together to add to the music. Slowly, off beat at first.. then gradually on the beat. Then a mixture. Tempting the music to be faster.

But, suddenly the music just stopped. And the lights went out.

In the darkness there was this soft bell chime again. Ding...dong... ding... dong.. Then, this sound of rustling chains and smaller, higher pitched bells. Slowly, softly, but still there.

A dim figure came into view, hips swaying, hands moving swiftly. Tail swaying. As her hips moved faster, beckoning the return of the music, the lights suddenly snapped back on and the music started to play.

The feline dancer took off into a full dance. Her stomach dancing. Her hips enticing the gaze of her audience as her muscles pulled and pulsed to the beat. Using years of training it seemed as though her hips were the only things moving at times. Flowing as if they weren't attached to her.

Then she would spin. Shaking the chains and bells at her waist, her tail flicking another bell around to a certain beat-- the bell toll.

Her blue and violet eyes scanned the room as she danced, picking out her next piece.. Someone who she would add to her dance.

[Anonymous]

He jumped, flinched a little, as the lights went out; the sudden change of atmosphere hadn't been anticipated, and if there was anything Reks hated, it was a surprise. A sip of the mead swept his chills away, and kept his eyes focused on the stage, and on the figure that had stepped into the dim view. Despite the lack of light, he could still see that dancing figure as clear as day, kept his pale grey eyes glued onto her form.

Men around him stood up from their seats at the sight of her, yelling and whistling, easily amused. Like children, Reks knew, or like dogs – more reckless than he. But he had to remember, these people had probably rarely, if ever, saw dancers at all. To some, this was a special present, like an unexpected birthday, but to Reks, this was a distraction, an outlet, to take his mind away from the tattoos that bit at his skin like hungry vipers. Her presence was a blessing, a diversion – her body moved in ways his eyes could follow, which he did without much thought.

And then, he noticed – a tail! And ears, of the feline variety! He drew the mug of mead away from his lips and leaned forward in his seat, to get a better look. And surely, she had to be part feline, or have some feline blood in her. He sat back in his seat, curious – he had never seen another with cat ears before. Unconsciously, he tugged down on his hood, making sure it was snug, so his own set of ears wouldn't be seen in the tavern. But even if he had pulled his own hood away, he doubted anyone would notice. All eyes were on her.

So were Reks', but only because he had never seen a dancer of the feline variety. Hell, he had never seen someone who had feline blood in them at all. He crossed his arms, so that both of his palms were on his tattoos (as if that'd help the pain) and wondered how he should feel about this, or how he should feel about her eyes darting across the stage, as if she were looking for someone.

Reks was normally good at blending into the shadows and staying out of sight, invisible. But he was on the edge now (moreso that normal), and that might've cast him into her sights...

[Anonymous]

Like a hawk honing in on its prey, her eyes focused on Reks'. His intense gaze and such intimidating eyes. He was perfect!

She spun on her paws, her cat like feet keeping her upright and balanced while claws allowed her to move in ways that a normal person would slip. The music began to slow and she made her way to the edge of the stage. Her hips still except for perfectly timed jolts that made the music sound eerie.

Carefully stepping off the stage by means of the stairs. Each step seeming as though they belonged in the music. The lights followed her as she glided over to the man. A smirk gracing her cherry painted lips and she leaned in close to him. Her stomach dancing, her breasts brushing against his cheek. She brought an arm around him to hold him close as her hips danced to a new and livelier beat. Her tail swaying, twisting and turning with her hips.

She had no issues with any of her personal space being against him. As she danced next to him-- all but giving him a lap dance. Her eyes scanning his face, then focused on those tattoos...and never left. Studying them, and it seemed like she knew just what they were.

[Anonymous]

She was leaving the stage, making her way over to him.

No, that was conceited. Why would she be coming over here? To prove his point, Reks looked behind him, expecting to see some excited sap that would be getting all of her attention, but saw no one there. No one was there. The only person she could possibly be focusing her sights on was him, and everyone in the tavern knew it but him. He set his cup of mead down, staring up at her, wide-eyed and confused, almost boyish in his bewilderment.

She was close – too close, a little too close – dancing up against him, her breasts brushing against him, her hips swaying in his lap. Without his protest or his consent, she placed his hand around her, which automatically brought her closer as she swayed near him, so close. It was strange – he had never found women to be entrancing, but how could he not stare, when she was demanding his full attention. Her hips were hypnotizing – and he found his hands moving by themselves, moving down to her hips, as if he wanted to find a way to control, to understand, this intoxicating, sinful display.

It was no use, though – any witty remark he could've said had been stolen away from him, unfairly, cruelly. He only stared up at her, his hands on her hips, as no words would come forth to his lips. It was then he noticed, her staring at his tattoos – and he looked up at her then, his pale eyes to hers, as if to question her curiosity, but again, he would not speak. And how could he? And interrupt this almost sacred dance? No, Reks would not. So he kept her close, steadying his breathing – it was all a little too much to handle. But he did hold her gaze – it was the only shred of free will he had left. Every other part of him was held prisoner to her dance.

[Anonymous]

Soon the song ended like it began.. with a bell chime.. This time the chime only coming from the bell on her tail. She pulled from him, letting his fingers slide off her hips slowly. Turning to look at him she slipped him a single, small, piece of paper.. then returned to the stage with her hips and tail playing out the last bits of the song until she disappeared behind the curtains.

But, that boy.. She had to see him again. See those markings. She was sure she knew what they were! She had seen them before. But that hood obscured most of her vision of him. Other than those eyes, she knew little of him.

Hence that paper.. it was so sinfully hidden in her bra.. handed to him swiftly. On it a simple note: Come see me and a simple address and time.

1 am.. Would that be too soon or too late? She was already on her way to that room.. A simple room left for her by the tavern owner. A place for her to stay for the days that she danced for him. And, after she tucked her money away, she sat at the window and waited for that ill-fated boy.

"Those tattoos... I know them. Any cat would."

[Anonymous]

A chime echoed through the room – brought Reks back to reality.

His hands slid from her hips, and suddenly, the spell was gone. He pulled his hood down a little further, listened to the yells and hollers for more from the tavern, and wondered if a spell really had been cast on him. Ah, but that was a laugh – she was simply a dancer, a damn good one at that. Preoccupied with his own thoughts, Reks almost missed it – her handing him a slip of paper before disappearing into the diminishing crowd. If he had been quick enough, he would've stopped to ask her why? or what for?, but he had missed his chance, had failed on the quick draw. So he sat back, slumped in his chair, casting his eyes over the paper, taking in its contents quickly.

Come see me, it said, with a quick address and time scrawled quickly on it. He flipped the paper, checking its back for an explanation, and found none. He frowned a little, biting his lip, wracked with indecision. He looked up again, as if expecting her to appear in front of him, but there would be no miracles worked in this tavern tonight. Come see her, it said... And it could be for anything. Was she soliciting him? Or was this about something else, something more important, like his tattoos, which she couldn't take her gaze away from? Maybe she knew the witch that cursed him – maybe she was the witch who cursed him, in a different form.

Groggily, he stood up from his seat near the stage, walked past the barkeep, tossed another coin his way. "It was a good show," he admitted to him, which made the barkeep smirk. It probably wasn't every day that a damned 'city boy' was impressed with the entertainment in Hyoite, and the barkeep tucked away that gold coin – it was money well earned. Reks laughed to himself at the barkeep's good humor, pulled his hood over his head, and trekked on, to the address inked out on the paper. He was probably an idiot, he was probably setting himself up, but hell, curiosity killed the cat, didn't it? Hell, he had nine lives to waste. What was the harm?

Ten minutes later, he was standing outside the given address, his hood pulled down, so that only his eyes were visible from underneath the shadows of his cloak. He knocked, twice, and for good measure added, "It's me. The one from the tavern." He stuck his hands in his pockets – and the seconds that passed felt like hours. He counted under his breath, to sixty and back, anxious, on the edge.

When he was like this, he could feel everything around him – the tavern patrons that passed him by (there were three in this hallway), the conversations that were being had (two to his right, about the show tonight, and one to his left, about trivialities), and who was staring at him, or paying him too much attention. So far, he was inconspicuous, but that didn't mean he still wasn't on edge. He reached sixty, and started his count back again, to take his mind off who was lurking beyond that door.

[Anonymous]

Her ears twitched at the sound of the knock. And that sweet and sultry voice that echoed out so softly-- like he was testing her hearing. She smirked. Stood up and approached the door.

She snapped open the lock and slid the door open to look at the feeble boy. Her eyes gazing over his body, then back to his eyes. Piercing still. Just what was he hiding? She stepped aside and let him in. Unashamed at her less than clothed self.. She wore just a black bra and matching lace panties. Who said she had decency? There was something about this boy. If she could lull him into talking... that would be great.

Once he was safely inside, the door was shut. The lock fastened. And a simple spell silently put in place that bound the lock. She wanted him there. To stay. To answer some questions.

Gliding, she moved to his side. Her body following the movements of the snow leopard for which her features favored. That long tail wrapping around his waist. "What's your name?" She almost purred into his ear. No need to scare him.. Not yet.

[Anonymous]

He stepped inside, and immediately froze, his right cat ear twitching under his hood. Did he hear the door lock? It's normal, he told himself. Everyone locks their doors. She was locking intruders out, not locking him in, of course. He would've started counting again, anything to take away the anxiety, but instead, he took another cleansing deep breath, calming down. This was fine. This was totally fine. He was locked in a room with a total stranger, but that was fine – everything was sugar and rainbows.

Her tail wrapped around his waist as she asked his name, and there were those chills that went up his spine – she seemed not to care for his personal space in the slightest. Before, it had been intoxicating, but now, with the bells and whistled removed, with company diminished to just the two of them, it made him wonder how long he could stand it.

"It's rude to ask someone's name before giving your own," Reks pointed out matter-of-factly – it was always something that bothered him about strangers, and normally he'd make a habit of learning their name first, but this atmosphere was more unnerving than anything. Her blatant disregard for her scantily clad form, along with her invasion of his personal bubble made him want to comply than bother arguing about it.

"...It's Reks," he offered anyway, after a beat, his voice all stone and no heart, just like the barkeep accused him. Last names were something she could do without – first names were a gift, if anything. "I assume you called me here for a reason," he continued on, his hands still stuck in his pockets, his stance indifferent, despite his mood. "A reason that doesn't involve the invasion of my person space." This last line was sarcastic, joking, if it was possible to joke in a stone voice, that is. It was his attempt at being comfortable in a place where he obviously wasn't.

[Anonymous]

Her tail tightened around him when he barked back at her. He was the man. He should offer his name first. But, he gave in easier than his words had led her to believe. "Reks... huh?" She repeated. Her tail slinking away from him at the 'personal space' remark.

That was when she noticed how uneasy he was. So, to spare him indignities, she put on a robe.. But went right back up to his side. "I'm Solea." She said softly. Looking over him again. "I suppose I owe you an explanation." She began. "....for bringing you here."

Slowly, she reached up, her slender fingers curled into that hood of his.. Then, she yanked it down. At first she was shocked, but that was because her hunch was right. She reached up and ran her fingers over his ears.. then stepped back. "I see.."

Her gaze returned to his wrists. "And what did you do for such an honor?" She asked, snidely.

[Anonymous]

Reks was off his game, off his edge. Thrown into this strange environment, he was vulnerable here, and never saw her hand coming up close to his hood, stripping it away, revealing his cat ears to her. Wide eyed, indignant, Reks took a step back out of self-preservation (a first for him, he was someone who always moved forward) and fumed at her question – what right did she have to ask it?

"What do you care?" he barked, because she may as well have stripped him of his clothes, held him naked in candlelight.  Instantly, his hands went to his ears, before he thought to pull his hood back over them, cloaking them from view again, even though she had already seen them. Still, the hood was not pulled as far back as it had been before – it had been tacked back on sloppily, in a fit of rage.

"...They're none of your business," he continued, angry, no longer able to look her in the eyes. It didn't matter that she was nearly feline herself – what mattered was that she had exposed him, his best-kept secret, his one, vain weakness. It was ironic, that someone who was more feline than himself should be the first besides the witch and himself to see his ears, but Reks didn't think of it like that. It was an invasion, one of the highest degree, one that he couldn't just get over, despite the fact that he shouldn't be getting angry, he should not be getting angry...

"The ears, the tattoos... the curse... This is all my business. This doesn't have anything to do with you." He looked up at her, those pale grey eyes more demanding than angry – wanting an explanation from a woman who he barely knew anything about, except her name, and her profession.

As he spoke, he felt the tattoos glowing, their ominous black ink growing brighter – injecting more of the poison in his system. His punishment. His cursed. He winced slightly, used to the pain, but not used to being subjected to it in front of a total stranger.

[Anonymous]

She couldn't help but chuckle at his anguish. How he put himself through more pain just to prove a point. His anguish. Really.. he didn't have to suffer.

He let him fume for a bit, her ears perking up and she smiled to him. "Might want to calm down there, cat boy.. You don't want to turn into a cat now, do you?" she asked. Letting out that necessary fact that she already knew this curse. This very damnation on his soul.

"I know those markings. Your ears. The pain you feel.. How it's more painful now. How you can turn into a cat if you're not careful." She sucked in a sweet breath and walked over to the window. "Aa... I could help you.. But, that would require your cooperation. Something I think you're not capable of." She sat on the sill and looked to him.

"And.. Possibly something in return."

[Anonymous]

He sucked in a breath, attempting to calm down, counting to sixty mentally in his head. She was right – he didn't want to turn into a cat, didn't want to look any more catlike than he already did. The ears were enough – the mistake of his raging inferno the first night he had been turned. But if he started getting a tail, possibly fur... Well, it'd just get harder and harder to hide.

But then – he raised an eyebrow - he had never told her about the curse. His stance was more neutral, curious. "How... How do you know about that?" he asked, his voice quiet, questioning, yet doubtful. Reks crossed his arms in front of his chest, hood still pulled over his ears, watching her tentatively, as she sat on the sill.

This one – he had never met another person who unnerved him as much as she did. It was her confidence that did it, that unerring stride of hers that seemed to assure her audience that she knew what she was doing. Maybe it was something he lacked. And she was confident because she apparently did know – about the curse, the tattoos, and how he was even in more pain right now, and most importantly, about the threat that loomed over his head.

"I'm capable of cooperation," Reks corrected, and under the hood, his ears twitched. "I'm just... not sure if this is a serious offer, is all." He shook his head, put his hands back in his pockets, shrugged. "I mean, why help me, of all people?" He was not used to accepting charity from others unless he asked for it – and his days as a vagabond on the streets were long over. If this offer were serious, if she could really help him... He wasn't sure what to make of it.

"And.. Possibly something in return."

"So there's a catch," he asked, but it was a statement, not a question. He sighed, shook his head. "...If this offer is serious, then there's nothing I wouldn't give, to lift this curse." He was pretty sure he meant that too – at the time, he couldn't think of anything he wouldn't do to erase this looming threat. That is, if she was being serious. And he hoped to the gods that she wasn't just toying with him.

[Anonymous]

She had her gaze focused on the moon for the longest of time.. But, soon turned to look at him. "Why help you?" she mused. Standing up and looking over him. "You're the first person I met who looks like me. Even if it's a lie. You still resemble me." She paused. "And I know the pain of being like me." She smirked. "And not being able to hide it."

She walked back over to him and flicked the hood off his head. Looking at those ears. Then she took his hands in hers and studied the markings. "This one's strong.. It can only be canceled by the person who made it-- although. There is a way to neutralize it. Stop the pain.. Return to human form. But it comes at a high price."

She stepped back from him. "You have to stay a certain distance to the one who neutralizes it.. Or it will come back, only to go away when you are back in that zone. And, the person who neutralizes it will bare the same tattoos." She nodded.

"I would think you would know more about this curse... the price you have to pay. That 'something more'.. is choosing to travel with that person who helps you-- me."

[Anonymous]

He wondered what it was like – to have  such strong feline blood and not be able to hide it with a hood. He couldn't imagine her any other way though, without the ears, the tail, and the fur. But him? He had been fully human once. He had at least looked normal, if not different from everyone on the Isles.

Now he was constantly cloaking himself in shadows, but even that wasn't a though enough disguise. Again, she reminded him of how flimsy his hood was by flicking it off without a second thought, looking at his ears. He scowled when she did so, but said nothing, and merely grumbled incoherencies under his breath.

Solae took his hands in hers, studying the tattoos, and spoke of a way to help – to neutralizing the curse, to prevent the pain from constantly flowing through him. He sucked in his breath, trying not to get too excited – because news like that, it was too good to be true. It was too good to believe, really, but he was unsure why this stranger would call him here just to lie to him. He was still tense, especially since she spoke of a high price.

How much money was he carrying on him right now, anyway?

When she stepped back away from him, he pulled the hood back over his head, grumbling, wondering if it'd be rude to stop and get out his money pouch, to see if he had enough to pay this high price. But no, she spoke of a different price – of travelling around with the person who bore similar tattoos, who would neutralize the curse – her.

"Whoa," he began, taking a step back, holding his hands up defensively. "I would have to travel with you... and go everywhere you go?" No no no, Reks was a free agent – he went where he want, wherever he wanted. Plus, his work as a mage hunter forced him to never stay in one place – how else was he supposed to keep up with mages on the run? He couldn't see it, dragging her into his life and her dragging him into hers – it was preposterous.

"Listen, I can't... I mean, we barely know each other. Wouldn't I just be a burden on you?" And you a burden on me? "I can't ask a stranger to just give up her life to travel with me. Even if it breaks the curse. Is that..." His voice was pained. "Is that really the only way?"

[Anonymous]

She listened to him, her ears perking up at his words. But she found no humor in them. Wandering over to her bed she sat down and leaned against the pillows. Patting the bed next to her.. beckoning him to come over.

"The only other option is for you to find the witch. Although... with that spell in place, she'll know where you are. Call it a fail safe. Only if it's neutralized can you find her. It's a high price to pay. Making you have to seek out the help of someone to find her."

She yawned, covering her mouth. "Hm... But you seem uninterested in this plan. A man who likes to wander. Sure, you just have to stay by my side, and the zone is quite large indeed-- about 50 miles I would say.. Though, once you leave it.. the pain, the ears. It'll all come back. Until you're back in that zone."

Crossing her legs she looked up to the ceiling. "Would you like to sleep on it? This bed is plenty big for us both."

[Anonymous]

The only other option was to find the witch.

Then it was impossible, because she would avoid detection forever with the curse still on him, if he dared to leave it not neutralized. Perhaps he could do this, go along with her plan? What did he have to lose, except a portion of his freedom? Fifty miles was not too bad of a zone, and this woman didn't even seem to mind. But why wouldn't she mind? Binding herself to a stranger, offering this much help... was it really because he was the first person she'd come across that looked like her, even a little? He couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Hm... But you seem uninterested in this plan."

"No! I'm interested, it's just..." It was just a little weird, was all. He had fought mages who spit fire out of their mouths, seen people whip up windstorms with their finger and commanded the very ocean itself with naught but pure magical might, and even they seemed normal, to a person who was so quick to help a stranger. But this offer, he knew for sure, would never come again. How long did he have to decide? And why should he take so long to decide? If he was serious about finding the witch and getting revenge for his old friend, then why wouldn't he take this offer up?

Didn't he promise to do everything to help him?

He was about to blurt out that he'd do it, that if it neutralized the curse and helped him find the witch, he'd do it, but then she offered him a place on her bed, and his game was totally thrown off. "What?" he asked, taken aback. "No, I don't want..." Exasperated, he sighed. "I just met you, I can't just sleep in your bed. That's crazy." She was crazy, he was pretty sure. It was so weird, how calm she was, as if nothing phased her.

Instead of moving closer to the bed, he crossed his arms, leaned against the wall, trying to summon up that willpower he had lost before. "I'll do it, if your offer still stands," he decided, sucking in a breath. "I promised to do everything in my power to find that witch... turning down your offer would be stupid."

[Anonymous]

She grinned. "You just met me and are afraid to share my bed? It's best with strangers. Lovers give no space where strangers make space out of nothing." She purred. "My offer stands. Though, a feat like this will take a while. You'll want to rest."

She sat up and looked at him. "The pain will only get worse before it's resolved. And, I'll need to make use of those hands of yours." She grinned. "Now... come lay down and sleep. Unless you prefer the floor?"

She peeled the robe off her slender body and used her tail to guide it to a chair and hung it there. Then she looked to him. "Either way... be sure you blow out the candles.. You're full of such hot air.. Might as well use it for some good." She teased.. Curling up on the bed, watching him.

[Anonymous]

He furrowed his brows. "I'm not afraid, it's just... strange." Gods, how did he end up in such strange situations? Here he was, in Hyoite, planning to enjoy a mug of mead and show, when somehow, he ended up in the dancer's room, about to share her bed. Wonderful.

He wouldn't tell her this, of course, but he had never shared a bed with anyone before, not even his caretakers when he'd been very young. He'd no siblings to care for, no parents to tuck him in – sleeping was a solitary comfort. And now she wanted him to crawl in bed with her.

Well, it was better than the floor.

"The pain will only get worse before it's resolved," she told him, and he scoffed, shaking his head, and stopped leaning against the wall. "No need to worry about that," he assured, biting his lip. "If anything, I'm used to pain." While he resented her remark about him being full of hot air, he didn't have a comeback for it, and used his so called 'hot air' to lean over the candles and blow them out.

The darkness did not unnerve him – he could still see well, his night vision working wonders. Next to the chair where her robe lay, he removed his cloak, revealing his cat ears once more. Underneath the cloak, he only wore a black muscle shirt, but it was the fact that his ears were out in the open that made him feel vulnerable. Hell, he may as well be naked, without his cloak.

Somehow, he managed to make his way to the bed, curl up on the unoccupied side. "You do this often?" he asked, "Offer your bed to total strangers like me, that is." There was no malice in this question – he was curious. Despite her strangeness, she had been nothing but benevolent, strangely enough. He still was having a hard time swallowing it all.

[Anonymous]

"Strange? I'm like your brethren.. Plus.. the gift I'll give you... you should feel more than comfortable around me. If you don't trust me... why would I bother to help you?" she watched the room go dark, but her eyes never left him. Always following. And, in the dark the gave off an eerie glow.

"It's not good to be used to pain, but, with that curse, I know you're in it now." She shifted on the bed, watching him lay down. "I've never done this, actually. I like my privacy. My own room. Even if I have someone for that kind of company-- they never stay the night." She reached out to ruffle his hair. "But you're a different story, cat. You're going to be on an interesting journey, and I want to go. I'm bored of this. And, I can help you. So, why not? It works for us both."

Lifting the blankets, she tossed them over him and made sure he was covered before she curled up on her side, facing him. "Rest up, and sleep as long as you want. You'll need that energy."