The whole of the universe was made up of angels and demons, and everyone who didn’t happen to be one of those two particular beasts just fell somewhere along the spectrum of good and evil. And it was really that simple. Deviations from this particular path were only shifts along the spectrum. She struggled against the guilt of her great sin -- the death of those who loved her most and best -- but she had also come to understand that she was neither side of a coin, but rather a being that spun and danced upon the edge of a narrow line. 

Roen was playing games with her.

Her mind was still foggy -- a clouded space where hardly a coherent thought could manifest. She felt guilt, she felt fear, and she felt lonely and somehow, although she knew he was fully responsible for it all, there was a part of her that knew there would be no soothing to her many aches other than by his side. Or rather, under his thumb. 

It was a painful conclusion, but not one she was fully prepared to accept. 

“Surely, you know the answer to such a simple question.”

Gabriela had been staring at the door. The expectation of his sudden appearance became a nearly obsessive compulsion. Somewhat disoriented, a result of the strange reply as well as having to focus once again on the disturbing rose that was growing out of the woman’s face, Gabriela frowned. But before she could ask for clarification or express her confusion, the woman spoke again -- her words nothing but riddles. 

[i]“I am Anath Homura, and I ask; how shall we satiate our hunger? How to quench our thirst? Shall we speak awhile?”[/i]

Suddenly, Gabriela felt very small and very young. To think that she was ageless now seemed utterly ridiculous. But she had moved through time devoid of consciousness -- a sleeping relic that was only ever awoken when Roen felt the urge to deliver punishment or pleasure. All of it, that long sleep, was still just an endless collection of fragmented memories that felt more like dreams. 

She could not trust herself.

[i]What if this was a dream?[/i]

Below the bar, unconsciously, she had curled her long fingers into her palm and her glass-like fingernails bit into the pale flesh. The pain roused her -- reminded her that she was still awake. But then again, hadn’t she felt the pain and the pleasure of those feverish nightmares? 

She blinked. 

“Pardon me?” she spoke, at long last, “I am sorry… I don’t…”

Could things become any more convoluted? 

She felt Corbin before ever laying eyes on him. 

“That’s impossible,” she said under her breath, golden eyes shifting from Anath’s face and over her shoulder. 

Their eyes met and for a moment -- for the briefest moment -- Gabriela nearly descended into total madness. There was a hitch to her breathing as the slow beat of her heart picked up.

It was his golden eyes that shot her through the heart like an arrow with deadly aim. And then the luster of his silver hair under the radiant glow of candlelights. The memory of a small child -- a newborn swirled inside her head threatening to burst her skull open. Suddenly, she could smell his sweet, baby’s breath, and feel the strong, and steady pressure of his small, chubby fingers as they grasped one of her fingers. 

She stumbled backward and struck the wall of neatly displayed bottles, causing them to clatter against each other. Then, as if it were somehow possible, she appeared all the paler. Gabriela looked as if she had just seen a ghost. 

There was Lucis, come back to life and coming straight for her -- surely to deliver justice. 

[i]“What’s the strangest thing you got?” [/i]he asked, and somehow she didn’t see or realize that he had crossed the tavern and was standing there before her with nothing but a wooden bar separating them. But rather than righteous rage, what she saw reflected back to her in those golden eyes of his was curiosity -- and wonder. 

“What?” her frown grew deeper, and she was painfully aware of how unhinged she must have appeared -- how unhinged she actually felt. She had to get a hold of herself. “Um,” she broke eye contact and looked behind her at the bottles, which had finally settled from their near crash-clattering, “...there’s whiskey.”

With a shift of her eyes, she regarded Anath, “...there’s some whiskey.”

And then she turned away from them both and sought glasses, which a trembling hand managed to drop. The sound of glass shattering was like an alarm, and she reacted by dropping down onto a knee. Tucked behind the bar, under the pretense of cleaning up the mess she had made, Gabriela doubled over and tried to take a deep and calming breath. But it was only after she started picking up the pieces of glass that she noticed the hurt she had caused herself -- droplets of black blood had oozed out of the small nail marks she had left on her palm. Slowly, but surely, her flesh was knitting itself back together. However, the smell of her blood would help to ease any doubts Corbin might have been holding onto.

Indeed, he had come across another vampyre.