House Party

[Nox]

Ori shoved him out of the way and he gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She didn't like emotions. She didn't like much of anything and he did his best not to piss her off. Their relationship for whatever it was was one of the few things that made his life work. Losing it would put him back at rock bottom. He'd traded love for a violent play date to cope with the feral instincts in his mind. That couldn't be any healthier.

The emptiness did little for the hunger. It still ached in his belly though it was easier to ignore. He watched as Oriena drew the weave. There was probably some mathematical equation that could be derived from the whole thing, something purely scientific, but Nox didn't see it. He never did. And he wasn't a psychologist either. He was a fucking monster hunting burlesque dancer/bouncer. It was funny how Kallisti had become part of his identity so quickly. He at least knew he could do that even without the power. Though the power was ethe only reason he even had the job to begin with. What was he without it?

Nox knew that reproducing the weave could be catastrophic so he didn't even try. At least not right now while a party raged outside and there were children in the house. Maybe in the tunnels. Or someplace he could accidentally blow himself up in peace. Though he didn't expect that would happen. And it was like healing, he couldn't try it on himself, so he'd need something to experiment on. And that wasn't likely going to happen. So Theory, something he'd never truly try. And it would never work for him anyway -- female weaves never did.

He didn't ask for an explanation as his stomach rumbled loudly. Nox saved his hand to save the drawing. His voice was cool, distant, no emotion. Not happy, or sad or even angry, it just was. Like all color had been sucked out of the world. That's how he felt at the moment too. "I know you are right. You've probably always been right. But it doesn't change anything. Hope is a bitch." And monsters don't deserve to be loved. And if anything, this night proved that he was just a caged monster waiting to explode. He was dangerous. He glanced down at the severed hand and busted prosthetic and sighed. His mind raced to hurting Raffe, or the twins, or anyone at Kallisti and he turned to Oriena.

Consent and plans were something Nox believed in. He trusted Oriena would protect herself from him, but would she do what was best for the club if it needed doing. Or let chaos reign in his wake. "You'll put me down, right? If I can't control this. If I hurt someone? Someone you care about? Or even if you don't? Not because you care, but because I do?" He'd rather a friend end him, like he did Aria than let the Atharim have the joy of ending him. Jacob would probably have a party afterwards.