The familiarity was bothering him. He knew for a fact that he didn't know her, so why was she so familiar? He needed a bit longer to figure that out.

But then it hit him. "Oooh. Kaelis." Yeah. That was right. The little bastard had pulled her out of the gutter and made sure that she was mostly nursed back to health. That explained it. "Ya know, tiny black psychopath about yey high, weird obsession with knives." That could explain him more than enough he figured. "Little bastard cleared out a whole medicine drawer for you, thankfully we don't need it much these days." He muttered. Now he probably sounded a bit crazy, but that was fine, at least she would know a little bit of who he spoke of, right? "Well damn.. There goes my plans for eating you. He'd be so pissed." Why did he say that out loud? Because he really didn't care.

"You're one of his friends, therefor, I'm in a decent enough mood to grant a wish." A weird flex for Kyou's ego more than anything else. But it wasn't like Sixteen had even touched lightly on the fact that he lived with a god. Even if said god looked like he walked straight out of a 2008 emo phase. It was entirely within his power to do so, wasn't it?

They each had their general directions of where to head and were told to keep out of each other’s way. ’You’ll all start fighting each other otherwise.’ Well, that only applied to Ansai. She would try and fight Kotone and Ame. Whatever.

rhys smiles, and cosette gets a feeling -- gets a knowing -- that she is being lied to.

but cosette, already falling, simply wishes to fall further.

It gives way to the pronounced clicking that comes with every other problem Fernando has ever faced. He can worry about this later. There is work to do.



And, as experience has taught him, only one thing truly remains constant.



There is always more work to do.

It was a joke, wasn’t it? At least in a cosmic, if not literal, sense. Perhaps she was to expect the trip-wire soon, that final punchline which would undoubtedly result to some terrible slapstick sensibility. But her sister should have known by now that she deplored jokes of any variation--they were, after all, the universe’s lowest form of wit.

The memory haunts her even now. When Dabella closes her eyes, she can still see her mother's blood on her hands, feel the warmth leave her mother's corpse. But she doesn't remember crying. She can't recall ever shedding a tear for anything, honestly.

There was anger, though - so much anger. A storm of fury brewed in her chest with nowhere for its lightning to go. She used it to survive. An eight-year-old alone on the streets, all that wrath was her secret weapon. It made doing what she needed too easy. She was no different than the bandits who'd wronged her, using strength from a place she didn't understand to put people down. But she never killed - never took a life.

She wasn't evil but broken.

Memories filled his mind, all of the times that he had smiled, all of those precious times where those three immeasurable words fell from his lips. All of the good, all of the bad. Everything. Amos screamed out for him, curling up into a ball on the cold cement in the alley. As much as he had tried to keep himself from doing so, he had failed.

She fucking bit him. This Kalosian bitch really went and took a bite out of him.