[b]"So..."[/b]

The voice you hear now is strained and muffled... and dark. There's this weight in every breath that escapes the lips you can't see and as it reaches your ear, you can feel it. There's this hatred...or fear....or maybe it's a hint of regret. You're not entirely sure what it is but you find it impossible to ignore. [b]"You're still here huh? Listening to my ramblings..."[/b]

Two glass lens turn toward you, the sunlight drifting into the dark room glinting off the fragile surface. They sit in cradles of plastic and leather separating you from the face of the man underneath. You can't see him but something tells you that you're not ready for what you might discover, that you don't want to see, that it'll be different from what you imagined him to be. The knowledge he possessed, the candor, the way he could pull you away from anything and keep your focus on him... like the woman, like everything he's hungered for. But imagination is all you're left with as you stare at the figure. He's sitting again, but this time his back is pressed against the cold bleak walls of a scarred room. There's no heat here, no mumbling to fill the silence in the air, no awkward whites or flickering lights and no television to watch. It's simply himself with his thoughts... and you. Driven by curiosity, you strain to get a better look at who or what he is. Beneath the gas mask hangs a black scarf that clings to his neck, not too tight but close enough to keep the heat inside. It's pulled up to his chin and folded over a few times to better keep it's shape and hold itself in place. Below that are a few layers of thermals that sit beneath a dark brown denim jacket. The jacket itself has seen plenty of use evident by the faded colors and the patch work of stains and dirt caked on every inch of fabric. Khaki pants follow, just as weathered though there is significant fraying around the knees and the trim along the bottom. He has on dark hiking boots of some generic brand. Despite what the tag may have said about the material, it's held it's own and kept the socks and feet beneath protected. Besides the mask you find nothing out of the ordinary about him and his attire. There are a few stray straps and harnesses wrapped around his hip and shoulders, no doubt carrying what little equipment he has on. The glint of some metal hidden behind him draws your attention... perhaps a bladed weapon of some sort... or maybe-

[b]"I know what you're thinking."[/b] His husky voice interrupts your thoughts, drawing your attention to the glass lens starting back at you. [b]"All this talk about other people and yet you don't know a single thing about me... who I am, why I'm so suddenly important."[/b] There on the ground next to him is a pack, opened already as the can of peaches had been laid on the floor before. However, instead of going for the peaches, his hand disappears into the pack and produces a tin about twice the height of a soda can. [b]"Besides having the odd craving, what sets me apart. What's my history... who am I?"[/b] The top is unscrewed and laid on the ground between his legs and as his fingers reach in, they pull out a thin slice of bunt meat. He holds it between two fingers in front of himself for a while, admiring the beauty present in something that you don't quite understand. The edges are highlighted behind rays of sun, stray specks of dust drifting by lazily as he begins to twist it in front of him. [b]"Who am I..."[/b] His free hand goes for the bottom edge of the mask, his fingers wrapping around the frame. You watch almost in a dream as he pulls it up and over his head.

Suddenly it's very warm.

This time the room before you is clean, open and bright. You're standing in the modern dining room. There's a contrast of colors between sparse furnishings and fixtures; black against white against grey. Although the scheme is monotone, its strong and stands out, basking the room in brilliance. The room itself is open. There are no walls here. No ceiling just the floor. Tiles of rectangles and squares stretch the length between invisible walls and end where grass begins. This strange room sits in the middle of an empty prairie where tall grass is in abundance. The sun above hangs lazily in the sky basking you with heat you'd been missing since you were in Missouri. There are a few spots of clouds in the sky, a stark white against the light blue spread as far as you can see... but that's all you can see. There's nothing else in the distance save for the single room. In the center of this room is yet another table. It's surface is made of some kind of dark wood you've never seen before, although you've hardly laid eyes on many types of wood. The smell however captivates you. You breathe in the scent of a rain forest far away. You can almost feel the moisture in the air, hear the calling of animals you don't know the names too, feel the touch of fresh bark against your skin.

[b]"What you smell is in fact Agarwood."[/b] Startled, you look up to see him who's sitting at the other end of the table. [b]"More expensive than you know and hardly as satisfying... but something about eating on it..."[/b] There's the usual dinner setup before him, the plate hidden underneath a silver cloche and matching utensils laid out with more perfection that normally necessary. The fork, spoon and knife have been spaced with precision and are all pointed in the same direction while lying atop a napkin with a peculiar fold. What makes things all the more strange is the fact that he's done the same with the two plates he's set up on either side of him. However, it's not the arrangement of the table that catches your interest. Before both plates sit two people in particular. To the right is a woman, tall and slender with black hair and deep green eyes. Her skin is a pale white, milky almost and seems to blend in with the sunlight of the prairie. To the left is a young girl. Dark hair... grey eyes. She has the beginnings of freckles spotting her cheeks, braces lining her teeth, and skin like her mothers. Her mouth parts, her lips begin to move and you quickly realize that she's saying something.

[b]"You made dinner again?"[/b] She pulls the cloche off her plate, setting it aside as she stares down at the dish in front of her. Trapped steam billows up in a cloud and dissipates in the air revealing her meal: rice, green beans, slices of meat. [b]"Hm... not bad. At least it looks edible."[/b] She smiles as she stabs the fork into one of the slices and throws the piece in her mouth. The woman does the same as well, both of them chewing, eyes closed, breath held. The one on the right swallows first and slowly opens her eyes.

[b]"Delicious."[/b] She turns to look at him, her own smile splayed across her lips. [b]"Thanks for this."[/b] He nods as she prepares to feed another bite into her waiting mouth, a combination of everything on the plate. 

[b]"I'm sure you're expecting me to entertain you with these two beautiful women.. share what it is about them that makes them tick, share why their dish is unique. Surely its their eyes... those deep windows of emotions, so clear and beautiful... like a pool of water you can drown in. Maybe it's their skin, flawless and pure, soft and flowing endlessly as it conforms to their body describing their every curve with perfect detail. Maybe it's the scent of them, a subtle whiff in the air that's hardly overpowering but intoxicating all the same. A scent that transports you to... an open field of tall grass where certain fragrant flowers grows in abundance."[/b] As the words slip from his mouth, you notice Lilac shrubs sprouting from the field surrounding the room, blooming, pushing it's petals out in the sun and filling the air with it's nectar. It's blends seamlessly with the Agarwood. He smiles at you knowingly. [b]"Maybe it's all these things put together... in one... perfect... body."[/b] He turns to look first at the woman on the right and then glances too at the girl on the left. He gives them each a strange look, like there's a fire in his eyes, a hunger that's only gotten stronger, more voracious. You see a slight urging in him, in the way his body is leaning slightly forward, the way his fingers play with the knife... twisting it... like the pencil. [b]"Perfection..."[/b] He whispers as he lets the uncontrollable desire take over, lets the craving burn in his gut.

[b]"But... in truth... it's none of these things..."[/b] He turns to look at you with this pained expression on his face... a hint of confusion. He pulls himself away, shutting off what he wants, what he knows, everything. The grass and Lilacs begin to shrivel, the sun dissolves behind thick black clouds. The sky above disappears as you realize the room around you has become closed. Walls have sprung up to finish the room, doors and windows in their proper place. Walls are covered here and there with the odd decor, shelves holding small treasures and pictures of people you've never seen before. There's a chandelier hanging above the center of the table providing dim lighting and as you look around you realize it's nightfall... and it's raining. [b]"These two here... they're unique because they're mine. That is Claudette. my daughter."[/b] He says turning to look at the girl on your left. [b]"A treasure in my eyes. Smart... wise beyond her years. Like the flowers in the meadow, something beautiful waiting to blossom... I want so much to be there when she does. I want to hold her hand when her eyes open to the world, when she learns and flies and falls and cries. When she realizes her flaws... I want to be there to turn them into something more than that, into something she can use."[/b] He stares at her for a long while, watching her as she slips another bite between her slender lips. [b]"But the world has a way of fucking itself in the ass... I'll never get to be any of the things she needs me to be..."[/b]

[b]"And this... this is Anne. My wife, the one and only, first and last."[/b] He's staring now at the woman on your right, at Anne, looking at her now with a very different perspective. [b]"You want to know about her? She [i]is[/i] strong. [i]Is[/i] focused. She's beautiful but her beauty isn't a weakness... it's a strength and she wields it like no woman I've seen before. She can see through me and because of that... she's knows me. Knows... everything...Everything. It's strange to think how transparent I've become to one person in particular. You see I've spent my entire life looking at others, studying them, being them. But when it comes to her... She sees me...all of me."[/b] He watches her now, the only person who knows the truth about him and it's strange, it's frightening, and he's infatuated with it. 

[b]"So what can she see?... Before the Rise as they call it, I was in fact a family man. A business man... A consumer of man."[/b]

[b]"I'm sorry to hear about James."[/b] Anne's soft voice is anything but apologetic and as his name is voiced, he looks at you with a knowing smile. Stabbing his fork into a slice of meat, he brings it up to his lips and as he's about to slip it into his mouth, you realize... it's gotten cold.

[center][b]"No... we're not."[/b][/center]

Calloused, blistered dirt caked hands feed the thin slice of burnt meat between dried cracked lips. As he begins to chew, you find yourself staring into faded grey eyes burrowed deep in a sullen face surrounded by circles of sleep. The skin is no longer peerless but jagged and scarred, stained and rough. His chin is covered in strands of stray hair that's just an inch shy from being a beard. It's evident he hasn't payed much attention to his hygiene or taken the time to stare at himself in a mirror.

[b]"Who am I?"[/b] He smiles... the same dark smile you've seen a hundred times now. [b]"My name is Abel... and I'm the villain."[/b]