To be healed by arcane meathead’s is to only feel the void inside ones self. It is to only feel the darkness of your hart it is to feel the dark void which we all create to draw into it the pain of the hart. Become o so real and swallow up the body’s pain until it is simply not there. There is no wham glow of love and joy which pushes out the pain as when healed by holly means. This is a healing that god him self call’s a sin. And the receiver of this dark curing is the one that feel’s the shame of it. There is peace or strength found only the appseance of pain. It is in every seans of the term a hallow heeling.

With this Felling of hollowness of pure emptiness that occupied skill as his newly healed body stood up. This is the darkness that Skill had spoke of before this is, the blackness he would do anything to protect this girl cringing in the corner still susceptible to the gore that the 3 men saw two with lust and one without a second tought. And he would try and save her from this because he had come to realized if he saved her, he would in some way save a part of him self. He had herd her sigh it was the response he would have given if some one had tried to tell him the something of that nature. He reseld in his mind as to what would cause him to do what he was a bought to ask her to do, and only one possibility came to him.

Skill walked over on his newly healed leg, the first step was almost tentive of the pain that the mind still expected before the law’s of natchur had been over ridden he slowly stooped and scooped up with his left hand, the gun he had tossed to the floor earlier. Each steep brought him closer to the bloodsucker.

When skill finally reached Dieas, he stood abreast to him took his right hand and placed it over Dieases shoulder’s and with a slightly malice grin on his face an said “Yes Plateaus old friend tell us exactly what the hell is going on here. Also if I could have some bullet’s and a pen and paper” he said turning his right had in a position of some one ready to reseave a something” I would greatly apreasheate it”. Skill new that this was a petty moment, of slight revenge was immature, and somewhat childish, but he didn’t care infact he allmost raveled in it, in only the way a friend can enjoy tourchering another friend.

With agonizing slowness, more agonizing to look at almost than even the pain of the one who acted out those very motions, the vampire separated himself again from the scarlet stream that flowed thickly down his arm. The appendage dropped like the pendulum of a broken clock to hang at his side, and for a moment there was a look about him of defeat, self-loathing, and dissatisfaction, emptiness. But like all moments do at some point or another pass away, a second's breadth stole that image and chose to show him somewhat composed as he turned his sad, dark eyes to look upon the man whom he had healed. The kind of minuscule smile that graced his facial features was of the manifestation so tortured and heartbroken that it could cause the person who saw it to feel their heart dissolve within them, as though it became sorrow itself and began flowing through their veins to bring an unwanted warmth and pain with its every beating.

"You deserve at least that, My Friend," melancholic would be a pitiful way to describe the voice which so smoothly and easily slithered from in between the thin, red lips. It was like music from a far off distance, music that rent at the listener's sanity with haunting strains like blood woven into a crimson tapestry before the eyes, so it assaulted the ears and the mind, a dark thing to be sure, and yet a sensation that was, once touched, forever longed for afterward. If it is possible that there exists anywhere a pain that was so sweet as to impress upon the one tasting it to desire only more even should it bring their very soul to death's door, it must have been distilled from the voice that spoke now to the man who called himself Skill.

Diaes reached up his own right hand and lightly gripped the shoulder of his partner. The icy quality of his skin could be felt even through the man's clothing, but instead of the death-like steel of the grip which the creature could have imposed should he have chose to do so, there was only a gentle squeeze. The temperature about them suddenly dropped by many degrees and a faint breeze seemed to carry the chill outward in what might have been described as an aura of hair-raising fear. It was as if even nature itself was horrified at the thing which it too witnessed defying the essence of that which it was.

"Put down your weapon, Anthony," the pale claw moved down from his shoulder and pointed the muzzle of Skill's gun towards the ground, "The time for battle is done now. We shall leave these in peace. Already, too much has happened this night which should not have." His eyes turned to the girl, a deep, black look overtaking his those midnight shaded pools as he fixed them upon her own. Black-lashed lids flashed down over the disturbing vision, and when once again they opened his gaze focused upon the only other human in the room again, and in a them was contained a purposeful look for Skill alone that spoke at once trust and perhaps even command. As he did so, the left hand, still slightly wet with blood proffered to his friend a small item which appeared to be a small notepad and with it a strangely shaped pen. "Do what you must," those words were somehow both comforting and those of a friend and threatening at once, but to whom the danger of the words was intended was as unclear as the actual presence of the being which spoke them.

Releasing his hold upon Skill, the Nosferatu turned towards that other being who named himself 'Holy Vampire'. The cold did not fade as he did so, but became more profound. It was not a frozen state of the air, but rather of the mind. The nerves told of cold, but it was that which proceeded from fears rather than that of the atmospheric temperature. His eyes narrowed slightly and any lines in the stone-like face were suddenly etched away to leave only sharp angles to cast shadows across that which was not already covered by a dark cloud of hair. Deeper yet were the eyes, eyes into whom all light seemed to drain as does the water rushing down into the depths of a cistern to meet the murk below. The delicate head cocked slowly to one side. He merely stood there, staring. Arms hang down to the sides, shoulders held high and straight, what could have been a question on the face. A drop of blood dripped off of the edge of his left hand's coat cuff. As it hit the floor it seemed to echo and as it splashed it was as if it bloomed into fire and then settled again into a tiny pool.

“Fine. Just great”, she muttered furiously through gritted teeth as she harshly clenched a fist in a pointless attempt to more or less let out her frustration. Her normally rather cold or curious eyes now turned into what could be named two raging sources of scorching inferno, although ‘extremely poisonous glare’ would be quite fitting too here. To put it simple; Ilena absolutely loathed to be kept in ignorance of something she desperately wanted to know. And this.. Occurrence, happened to be exactly one of those things. The fact that the object, or better, person, of her so evident frustration was simply standing there, gazing at her, certainly did not improve her mood. Like hell it didn’t. She was definitely not the most patient of all people, but a human can only take so much until the tolerance is gone. Currently, her tolerance had dashed merrily away. Obviously.

The girl started to turn her back towards the strangers, eyeing the entrance. Perhaps a wrong move; she let the path to a free attack open, actually almost invited an attack. Ilena could care less, at the moment the female was too consumed by frustration and anger that even if a bomb destroyed the church and whole town with all its inhabitants, she would still not waste as little as an instance on caring about it. With livid, heavy steps she began to tramp towards the entrance, which was the exit too at the same time. She didn’t even like churches in the first place. The so called holy buildings always gave her a creeping feeling. And then you still got those priests. Bloody child molesters, that’s what they were and did all day long with those schoolboys who came to receive, by force or not, salvation for their sins that were, most likely, not that bad anyway. Ilena hated them, those priests. There had been a time when she thought she could stay in the local church at night. She had quickly changed her mind when it became clear that she was not wanted there in any way; the man, whom she expected to be the priest, had shut the door right before her nose all the while yelling with a thundering voice that the filth of the street should not stain the House of God with its dirty hands. So much for trying to get a sleeping place at night.

But that was in the past; right now she had simply set her mind on walking outside and getting some fresh air. Ilena realized that if she did not get out of this stone place soon, she would explode. Which did not seem to be a good idea; with the vampires and, no doubt, well-fighting human, who knew what would happen then.

Gabriels head tilted to the left as he watched the young teenager storm for the exit. "Going somewhere, Ilena?" He asked, watching her stomp. He didn't move, but he was twitching, as if in an instant he would be at someones throat, ready to seperate it from their body with his teeth. Gabriel did not like the air that had taken HIS church by storm. The emotion that the tiny particles of gas carried with them, it filled his heart with such an emotion, one that could only be called resentment. "Human, Diaes. I ask why you came here tonight, why you led that thing here. You are pushing my sanity out of the window and off of a cliff..." Gabriel asked, still watching Ilena as she made her way to the exit.

Skill smirked at the last comment made by Gabriel, as he released him self from Dieas, walked to the door, left the building, and walked out side of the church with Ilena, not saying one word to either bloodsucker.

Once out side he turned so she could see him, and made a quite comedic gesture of fangs then pointed to his ear, with his hand flat and shook it back and forth and then shook his head side words this was all done to convey his desire for privisey.

After walking a few block’s to where they would be primarily out of the keen ear shot of the vampires, he started to speak in his low gravely voice wail they continued to walk. “This is what I know Dieas’ aquatint was having a problem in his library a few miles from here” as he said this moved his head in the general vicinity. “We got there” he continued “he said it was going to be a while, I asked if it was going to involve mostly magic, he said yes. I curdled up in an armchair and took a nap. Woke up he said it was time to go we left. Giant black ink monster chased us I threw Dieas in a lake for his safety, dulled with it awhile. It stated to get dark, and I followed the stream here hoping to find him after dark so he could take care of it and the rest you know. As he said these things’s he continued to make eye contact with the girl as she walked beside him.

Dark eyes narrowed to mere slits in the pale moon that was the face of that ageless vampiric being, twin crevices caused by still smoldering meteors. They were directed at another, an entity of a similarly dark nature to that of their owner. Perhaps it was anger or annoyance that there showed themselves or maybe it was some emotion that no word has managed to capture and wrap in its defining embrace. It was calm, and yet dangerous. Quietude was its form, and placidity encompassed the field and expanse of its host's body. The fingers of his right hand moved in a wave-like fashion, each touching its tip to that of the thumb in turn, starting from the smallest finger and working their way along the line only to begin again. It was as though he were playing some sort of soothing music on an unseen instrument which only he could hear.

He did not avert his glance either when the other spoke or when his own accomplice left. He made no sign, but it was obvious that he wished to speak, to convey some message to this other of his kind. Thin, red lips pulled viciously tight across a full set of teeth, honed to individual points. A breath, like that of a dying man's final sigh, escaped slowly from his mouth carrying with it the sent of the grave, a thing which had not been present yet about him. The air seemed to become uneasy in its proximity to his body. Beginning to attempt escape, it whirled about him in a fearful manner. Light seemed to fade, as though it had been attached to the sun yet it had been delayed by fascination with these strange events and only now was made to realize that it should follow its master. This was even that cast by electrical lamps, even the highly technologically advanced illumination devices employed by Gabriel held no power against that which stood there, a fully recognized emissary of Hell itself.

"Tell me," that melodic voice could have been a whisper or a shout, a scream even. It was so hard to tell. Elusive and with frantic power it tore through the barriers of reality, being at once more terrible and more beautiful than any sound emitted by those things of nature meant to walk upon this earth. "What do I owe to you?" it was such a peaceful way of putting the thought into its spoken manifestation, and yet the hearing of it was quite violent, as though it were in itself some kind of accusation. "What dept to you call me to repay with this information?" quite frankly, it was an intriguing question. It was thoughtful and forceful at once, and this time, it was deadly. For sure his tone and manner had become soft and friendly, set finally after that first rage of the storm. Yet, no smile sat on the features which had only moments before born happiness.

Another drop dislodged itself from the cuff of his left hand's sleeve and descended towards the ground. Imperceptible to a normal human's spectrum of knowledge and sensory perception, the drop slowed by perhaps a millisecond on its course and when it impacted the ground the splash which it created was far less expressed than it would have naturally been. Still, what a person with incredibly keen attention may have noticed was the minuscule flair of the nostrils or that infinitesimal twitch which crawled suddenly under the right eye of the Child of the Night. And what they would have feared most was that spasm which only lasted for the fraction of a moment in whence there was in the eyes of the vampire an explosion of unearthly fire as though reflected from some great depth. Of course, it was not the coming of the flames that would have been so alarming to any true hunter of the Nosferatu but the sudden suppression and the lack of strain upon he who would quell it, for this was strictly impossible for any vampire of such bearing and power. Blood was the call to them, the overpowering force, at once their greatest ally and enemy entwined. This beast had just exhibited the ability to defy his own nature.

Once outside she took a deep, calming breath and ran her hand through some of the blond tresses that had fallen before her eye. Why Skill walked with her outside too, she did not know and honestly, Ilena was rather very annoyed by it. These guys certainly had their own ‘special’ way of overexerting her nerves in record time. Her mouth twisted into a derisive sneer as her head turned towards the man. Who was right now doing a silly vampire impression?

Completely confused, the girl decided to just follow the man as he walked further. She listened intently when Skill started about Diaes. Ilena simply gazed back into his eyes; if this was going to turn in some sort of staring contest she would not back off. Though it kind of unsettled her that he just kept continuing the eye contact. Yet again another thing she wondered about. His 'story' was.. Interesting, so to say. That he even seemed to expect that she would believe this. She slightly tilted her head his way as she opened her mouth, “Wow, wow.. Look, if you’re trying to be funny; you aren’t. Hell, you claim that you threw him in a lake after some sort of inky monster of doom hunted you guys?! Seriously. First of all, how could someone like Diaes need something like ‘safety’. Isn’t he more or less immortal? So, nothing can happen to him, right.”, She huffed in a very teenager-like manner.

The moon stood high above the two, as they walked on the street’s of the town. Skill thought, a bought his word’s he was going to say, for a moment he broke his eye contact with Ilena “No im not being funny” his Voice took on a softer tone wall still being some what firm. “If I was you would be laughing” he said in a joking matter as they continued to stroll down the streets. “And as for the part a bought dying; it’s a b****. Plus it cut’s down on a lot of time when you have to wait for night to come back” he continued thinking over his word’s carefully “that’s what I do for Dieas I keep him alive during the day, and as to the creature I expected id throw him in kill it pull him out……..as you can see not every thing went according to plan” the last line left off with a sicker at the end

She slightly chuckled as he finished talking. “I guess you’re right”, a slight smile now lit up her face, most of her previous anger having disappeared. “Though I do hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble…”, the girl half-muttering said, “What I just don’t get is why he would send you to protect me while you should be doing that for him.” Ilena continued to simply walk next to him, not knowing where they went. She could imagine it must be very annoying; to die and wait until the next day arrives. It was such a strange thought again; she also wondered about what it must feel like, dying. Though she guessed she would know that sooner or later. A concerned gaze swept over her eyes; Ilena realized she’d have to do more than simply her best to survive all of this. As a human, she didn’t think she could make it. Well, at some point she’d make a terrible mistake that would ultimately cause her own death. In the worst case scenario of course. Yet, Skill seemed to be able to deal with all of this.. She quickly glanced his way. He seemed rather healthy still. Then the stomach-flipping image of not too long ago appeared before her eyes again. The girl breathed deeply, trying to make the returning nausea stop in its path of raging sickness. It more or less worked. Luckily. “Hey Skill”, she started pensively, “how do you do this? I mean.. I can imagine that ensuring Diaes’ health must be fairly difficult”, it was interesting, to say the least, how a human takes care of one as strong as said vampire.

As skill spoke his answer into the air, he smiled slightly and replied “how as in, what ability allows me do this" then another thought entered his mind "or how, as in why do I do it?” as he spoke the last line he cracked his neck subconsciously, the thought of why uncased him and he need to do something to do to distract his mind from the thought, lest he would dwell on it.

"Perhaps", she paused a bit, considering the amount of her raging curiosity, "both would be great, I think." She continued to walk there, next to him. It was quite enjoyable, making her remember past times when she used to simply wander around the city. Ilena actually kind of missed those yelling traders and the hateful face they made when she stole something. Talking about food; she was a bit hungry. And even the prostitutes were strangely absent here, although the girl was rather glad they weren't pushing themselves against her body right now. And home.. That filthy house probably shouldn't be given the honour of being called 'home', it was more of a place to stay so she wouldn't get herself in too much trouble, than anything else. Still, Ilena found herself trying to remember what it looked like. The old door, cracks in the wall and the moist that seemed to spread everywhere, though that one wasn't really a nice memory. As if some invisible cue had been given, her eyes suddenly seemed to snap out of the endless stare. She gazed at Skill again. What a strange man, or better, human taking care of a vampire. It almost seemed like a joke, Ilena really didn't know how he was able to keep up with all of it.

And nature itself would shun him for it. Folds of darkness wrapped about him like bolts of cloth again and again, obscuring the edges of his form. Slowly, he became less defined, as though the artist who had first put etched him upon the air had decided that the erasure and redrawing of his creation were necessary now. The eyes were held upon that other vampire for moments and moments only before with a lethargic speed, they sadly turned away. With them, the body and its garments made some sort of revolution, turning as if it meant to leave. Death-like that animated corpse seemed as the color about it faded, and even in this 'holy' place the darkness swallowed it. Yet there it was, as solid as any phantom or figment ever could be, as real as any half remembered occurrence or fleeting thought.

Raven colored hair flowed like a darkened, muddy stream down his back, almost meshing with his large coat lake a mane of fur. How bestial it did appear, this nightmare without figure or form. Vision swam and bucked around it like a maelstrom of thoughts suddenly sought to forever banish this dark muse from the corridors of the mind. Perhaps it was this place, rebelling against a thing that it did not want. Perhaps it was heaven, condemning a lost soul. Or perhaps it was a man, hiding from the truth. Whatever it was, it took him to the door. Like so many times before that night, he stopped before the door, and looked up at the barring wooden gates... They were heavy, immaculately created and ancient. They had seen many people, many actions, many days, these doors. A story was virtually written into their surfaces. One hand gently reached out to caress the smooth, old grain. The sharply pointed fingers ran down, tracing through what grooves were left, like rain traces the cracks and fissures in a building, like blood traces the gaping wound of a dying soldier.

The voice came from a different place, somewhere far away. It could only be heard as though it were spoken through some window, distorted by the glass which does separate two worlds. No longer did it hold any edge, hidden or obvious, only a thoughtful sort of reminiscence. "Do you know, Gabriel, Servant of god, that the only difference between the Light and the Darkness is a simple choice?" like echoes in a cave did each syllable drip wetly upon the ears, every one a cool drop of soothing peace, of death-like peace. And a choice was made. He left, simply stepping forward. Gone, the man was gone just like he had come, and with him he took so much, feelings, memories, but there were those words. The words stayed behind, as though he had forgotten to gather them up with all the other little tid-bits. Again and again they repeated themselves, until they weren't so much words as they were a thought. And the thought soon became no more than a piece of the immense puzzle that was thought itself, fitting into its place to be forgotten or remembered as the puzzle master chose. The rest, however, left with the one to whom they belonged, memory, impressions, everything that he had brought with him.

Perhaps nothing had been there at all. Maybe he really was a ghost that had returned to its rest now and taken with it its belongings. A pale light, that was it, that is what he was, a pale light shining in the midst of the night. Just one of many other lights but for the fact of his own... And now he was lost again amongst the shadows, diminished against the blackness. Death, perhaps, had taken him back. Surely it would have welcomed such a child of its back with open arms.

As Skill and Ilena walked onward, they approached a saddening sight. There lay upon the doorstep to one of the houses along the rode, a child, a young boy. He was curled up into a tight ball, presumably to keep in the warmth that his tattered clothing did not. No shoes protected his dirty feet, and his shirt and pants were no more than rags. His tussled brown hair was cast pale in the moonlight, and his skin looked as though it had already felt the touch of death. His eyes were squeezed closed, thin eyebrows drawn together and longish lashes pushed tightly, as though to ward off the cold and darkness that was without or perhaps that which had already seeped within. A small mouth with colorless lips quivered and even in sleep, little teeth chattered violently. Hands clenched, toes curled, the forehead wrinkled. He was a sad sight indeed. Another victim of the cycle of humanity that we call life. Some would say that fate had brought him low, others would blame he or his parents, still others would lay the fault upon God. Looking down, even the moon would weep for this child, because she knew that it was no fault of anyone. She knew the truest tragedy, that this boy was a victim for no reason at all. He simply was.

skill kept walking breathing deeply calculating on what his response would be, when he saw a child on the stoop of a house and stooped.

She was kind of pondering a bit further about ‘all this’; so many implausible things seemed to be happening at the same time, giving her an incredibly surrealistic feeling. As if it was some sort of strange dream. Ilena actually wouldn’t be surprised if she now woke up somewhere in the cold house, more or less curled up beneath those smelly moist covers, while water annoyingly dripped through the roof and made the unbelievably maddening sound water makes when it falls, completely shattering, not unlike breaking glass, against the floor. Drop after drop. The girl simply kept walking next to Skill, randomly glancing around, until he stopped at the sudden sight of a shivering boy that met them. The kid somewhat reminded her of herself when she was younger and didn’t have a place to stay. Pity was what she immediately felt for this poor boy, who gave the impression of being abandoned and forgotten by everyone. His whole shivering body more or less screamed at her to take him away from that cold, hard place. The human contemplatively bit her lower lip. She was more than simply certain that this boy absolutely did not deserve something like this. Not one single kid does. Clear blue eyes narrowed; this sort of thing made her very angry. The cruelty of people never ceased to amaze her. It truly did astonish her... In the utter dreadful way, that is. Her mind was set; in an act of sheer impulsiveness Ilena determinedly paced to his smaller form that lay so quivering on the stone doorstep. A concerned frown washed over her features as she carefully kneeled down his side and bent over him, closing the distance. He didn’t look well in the least, though, what could you expect? Her hand clenched before she stretched her arm towards his brown-haired head. Ilena froze; what she was doing didn’t make any sense. However, whatever wavering thoughts the girl might have been thinking that moment, her hand still hesitantly proceeded to advance nearer. Then Ilena tenderly stroked his cheek, repressing the reflex to pull back once the overwhelming cold touched her skin. A ghostly smile left its impression on her lips. “Hello?” she quietly whispered.

Slowly, the delicate eyelashes fluttered and large, wide eyes stared up in a way not unlike a small dog that, though beaten, still places its trust in the very human who would mistreat him. The eyes, though, what a disconcerting color they were. Even in that dark place, they seemed almost to glow, amber. It was not like a dog indeed, but more like an owl when once thought, and perhaps it was in that moon-like face that two glowing orbs sat with the intent of finding out prey.

The small form was still shaking and at first a look of fear crossed the young visage when he opened his eyes, but it quickly faded as the vision focused on Ilena. One might say that it even brightened. Struggling awkwardly, the boy untangled himself and began to get up. "You're here," the voice was so light and high and innocent, "I'm quite sorry, but it is time to go... Skill!"

Little dirty feet had been placed firmly on the ground. Tiny, emaciated limbs were shakily holding up that small frame. And how minuscule he did appear. The way the light cast shadows on him and his clothing, despite being torn, was a bit too large. Once again those burning amber eyes turned to gaze upon Ilena's face. Sunlight almost seemed to poor out of them and bath her in warmth, even in the cold night.

That cute little look that some young people wear when they have come to a crossroads passed onto the face, his brow scrunching up, and his lips forming a contemplative sort of pout. "But we can't very well leave you here, now can we," the question sounded rhetorical but was still directed at the girl, "If we go, you will simply look for more. Very well then." That high pitched voice seemed so instructive, so commanding, so absurd as it echoed down the empty street. "For your safety's sake, I cannot take you with us, but caution tells me I cannot leave without you," one of the tiny, pale, cold hands stretched out towards her, an offering, "Will you do something for me... Ilena?"