[center][h3][color=#ffb3ff]❤ Olivia Matthews ❤[/color] & [color=CadetBlue]✠ Emmett Matthews ✠[/color] [/h3] [sub][i] Time: Arc 2, Day 2- Morning Location: Aeris' Apartment [/i][/sub][/center] [hr] Emmett curled up near the frost covered window. His butt was parked on the built-in seat and bookshelf unit, his right hand folded under his chin. He traced the delicate, otherworldly designs spreading across the glass surface. Almost floral in nature despite the icy display. After a moment, his head leaned against the glass where the cold surface was melted by his warmth. He lingered there. Emmett let the cold sensation burrow deeper in him, bring strength to the numbing sensation that comfort him. Deep down, he wished he couldn’t feel anything. There were small, dark-colored bags building underneath his eyes. His mind couldn’t help but mill over the memories of his last conversation with Erin. It had ended so sourly. Just when they were starting to mend their friendship, she pushed him away. It hurt more than he thought was possible. Mr. Aeon, sensing something amiss, had pulled him aside. Nothing the older man said made Emmett feel alright, but at least his temper dissipated. The boy sighed. He continued to take in the storm outside. Emmett noticed how quickly it settled in causing his gut to stir, plaguing him with instinctive warnings. The weather was unusual for this time of year in Ominar. The anxiety was enough to cause him to sit upright then walk toward the hallway. His soles barely cared for the chill lapping at his naked feet. His eyes shifted to Olivia’s assigned room drawing him in closer where he paused long enough to check on her. His right hand reached out, the door creaked wider before he edged inside. Her soft snores were the first thing that caught his attention. Emmett relaxed at seeing her curled into a ball and still sleeping warmly under her covers. Quietly he pulled back into the hallway then continued down the stairs. [center][h3][color=#3D85C6][color=#7BCDC8][i]ℭ[/i][/color]harles [color=#7BCDC8][i]Λ[/i][/color]eon[/color][/h3] [sub][i] Time: Arc 2, Day 1- Late Evening to Arc 2, Day 2 - Early Morning. Location: Ominar Hospital ER [/i][/sub][/center] [hr] Charles stomped off the snow clinging to his boots. They piled around his soles then crunched as he stepped across them, his figure moved deeper into the busy emergency room. Like in the cold outside, he was numb to his surroundings. Every bit of it surreal and unable to touch him emotionally. Nurses brushed by him, but he paid them little attention. He wanted to find Killian’s room sooner rather than later. Gradually he paused nearby a wall, out of the hallway’s traveled path, where his eyes sought the nurse manning the registry counter. He found her. She was trying to calm a man in his early twenties, the young man’s hands were frantically clutched at his side. He raised his body both in stress and to intimate her into submission instinctively. Several piercings lined his nose bridge with his shoulders and arms covered in a tapestry of tattoos, his outfit gothic in theme. It took a few moments, but Charles suddenly realized why the man looked so familiar. He was a student at the college. A rather well behaved and quiet type, the environment outside the college had drawn out his stronger character. It was enhanced by his growing anxiety. Quickly Charles’ legs ate up the distance to interrupt the scene before it got out of control. He navigated through the mess of wounded and hospital staff. Each movement was made with a strict purpose: to progress and waste little energy doing it. As the young man began to raise his fist, Charles’ arm whipped out then caught it by the wrist. The student promptly paused in his action. His head turned to observed who was foolish enough to touch him and stiffened in shock. Charles let him rip his arm from the loose grip. “What are you doing professor? Here, I mean,” he clarified, asking to satisfy his curiosity. [color=#3D85C6] “A friend of mine was taken here after a serious accident at his workplace. I came to get answers and possibly see about his condition,”[/color] Charles answered calmly. He decided to neglect mention of what the student nearly did, the youth already aware himself and silently punishing himself for losing his temper. For the moment, Charles seemed void of any emotional attachment. That was far from the truth. In fact, he was pushing away every fiber of anger, sorrow, and blame that tried to cloud over his mind. Seeing them as a poison that would hurt his ability to help Killian during this time. Continuing to draw on the spreading ice in his veins, the professor turned to his eyes to the nurse. [color=#3D85C6] “Killian Jones, where is he?”[/color] The nurse, still a bit out of sorts with the near physical encounter, blinked. She seemed to struggle to put together thoughts before she finally broke the spell and replied. “I will need to see your identification, need your name and check to see if you’re placed as his next to kin.” She didn’t waste any more time as she moved back to the desk. Her figure slides smoothly into her chair and rolled it right up to the computer, her fingers at the ready. Charles gave his identification followed by his name and patiently waited until the woman was done verifying things. As she wrapped up, her arm reached out to hand him back his ID. Charles stuffed it haphazardly into his coat. The second she voiced Killian’s location, he was gone. His figure vanished down the nearest hall toward the ICU. [center][h3][color=silver]♤ Darius M Cain ♤[/color][/h3] [sub][i] Time: Arc 2, Day 2- Next Morning Location: Manor [/i][/sub][/center] [hr] Darius’ right eye slit open. His hazy morning vision began to clarify then sharpen, glancing around the scenery to piece together last night’s events. In the dim darkness, several articles of clothes were haphazardly scattered across the floor and various furnishings. The trail slowly led to the large king size bed where Masha and he laid, naked under the sheets. Her figure was draped across his chest while she softly slumbered, enjoying his fur and the warmth. Lazily his head turned toward the artisan table at his bedside. The vintage clock ticked away the seconds past six am causing his sense of responsibility to gnaw at him. Darius finally gave in. He gingerly moved his figure upright then carefully detangled himself. He then planted both feet upon the carpet and rose. Along the way, his hand snatched his pants and slipped into them. After exiting the door, he softly clicked it shut behind him. It wouldn’t do if his activities work up Masha from her rest. She had a long day ahead of her, both averaging the damage and repairing it. For now, he would enjoy some breakfast with a side of wine. When she woke up around noon, they would talk. One of Afua’s small spies scurried across the hallway behind him causing his ears to twitch in annoyance. He had forgotten they now roamed the manor, for the time being, drawing some distaste to rise. Nothing brought his hatred to surface more than being stalked. His teeth gritted in silent fuming as he pulled into the small, ill-used kitchen. As he opened the cabinet to retrieve a coffee mug, his ears caught the sound of something heavy move. His eyes caught the sudden image of a sawed-off gun barrel aligned at his chest. His figure bolted to the side just when his shadow shot up to protect his vital organs. The muzzle went off faster than expected. Pain engulfed his shoulder and right arm, the flesh burnt by the proximity. Darius felt a yell escape from his snout as he managed to stay on his feet. Adrenaline fought with shock in his system. His ears caught the sound of blood dripping from his shredded bicep and broken upper arm. When it made contact with the ground, the liquid hissed then ate into the floor’s surface. Too worried about giving into the spreading shock, Darius’ figure snatched some towels on route to the nearest phone. His trembling hand hit the speed dial for Nabriales’ cell. Before he could pick up the receiver, the weakness began to swarm his strength. Darius felt his legs give out from under him. Slowly he flipped about to fact the cabinet while trying to remain conscious and pressed the towels to his bicep.