A Little Broken [Three Trinities Haven Church]

[Sasha]

It all ended so abruptly. The power was gone, his head bruised. His dick still hanging out. Oriena's fingers grabbed his chin and she chided him. Though he wasn't sure exactly what he had done. The alcove was freezing and the fires were gone. But he felt the pull of it, he wanted it all. Wanted all of it. Burn himself up? That's what she said.

Her pants were ruined. Sasha felt bad even as he straightened himself and his clothing. His head still hurt. "How do you know so much?" It wasn't a question he expected an answer too. Oriena was not known for conversation. She wasn't know for being friendly in any sense of the word. And he'd already given her a favor and she lost it to the slush. It was probably long gone and he'd have to fork it out.

Sasha reached across and caressed the space at the base of her jaw where his fingers had gripped her. There were no marks but he remembered the feel of her flesh between them. There was dried blood across Oriena's face from the bloodied nose. His eyes wandered across her but his fingers he'd returned to his own space. He wasn't a fool and the emotions were high, her hand was still precariously close to his throat. "You should get some help with whatever is filling your head. It isn't this..." Sasha pulled the now jagged shard from his pocket and gripped it tight but offered it as explanation for what he meant... the power that flowed through them. "It won't happen to me?"

Sasha's voice was quiet. Not broken or ashamed or even how he'd come to the first. It was different. He felt different. Stronger, braver... but there was still insecurity in the way he leaned against the wall unmoving. It was different but still not more than the shadow he'd ever been.

[Oriena]

He didn't retaliate. Clearly he must just think she’d shoved him off because she was a bitch. Ori didn't care, and she didn’t explain herself further. Why the hell he accepted that kind of treatment from a stranger spoke volumes, and even as she watched it was like the rolling fog of a retreat. Whatever her searching look over him told her never translated into her expression – there was just the fact she bothered.

The touch at her neck sent a small shiver into her, not desire this time, but something. Sasha was soft spoken, unassuming in a way Ori would normally overlook except that she also found him unpredictable. It wasn’t the kind that kept her on her toes, or wound her tighter, or incited her. It was more that he just quietly acted in ways she didn’t fully anticipate. For now it held her attention without provoking her.

She let go.

“No,” she said. There was scorn in her tone, like he’d asked something stupid. But it had no real bite.

Ori leaned back against the wall, hands braced on her thighs. Her head was swimming a little, which might have just been the things she’d taken tonight. She glanced at the trinket in Sasha’s hand but wasn’t much interested in whatever crutch he used to explain his power before now. He looked like he thought she was going to wrestle it from him by how tightly he gripped it. With power like she’d seen he had, he’d probably been guarding that silly piece of rock with his life. No wonder the Atharim were hot on his trail.

As for help. Well, no shit. Ori knew full well she could ask Nox and he’d fall over himself in an attempt to do what he could, but she never had. Wouldn’t. “I could show you exactly what’s in my head if you want, but you wouldn’t like it.” Her glance was sly then, more than sinister, but her smirk ended in sharp laughter. She didn’t want to talk about it, and he looked like he might be trying to melt into the wall to escape her notice.

She slid the rest of the way down, intending to wait it out until her head cleared. She half closed her eyes. The winter chill bit. Her forearms rested on her knees, and her exposed skin burned. It wasn’t like she was powerless to help herself, it was just that the freezing pain was a little like holding her hand over that flame. A distraction. “If you’re shitting a brick about it all, Sash, ask at Kallisti for Nox.” She’d been there once after all, and it wasn’t the first time she’d taken pity on the lost, and especially the dangerous lost. The whole club was a beacon for it, even more so now Nox was its shepherd. Though it wasn’t entirely in charity she directed him, it was to let him off the hook if he was too afraid to simply run from her. He wasn’t under any obligation to stay. She didn’t expect him to.

[Sasha]

The way she said she could show him had Sasha shaking his head almost violently. He didn't want that. Whatever it was, he didn't want to know. Not if it made her bleed like that. Fuck no!

She slide down the wall and Sasha was concerned. Whatever confidence he'd had had fled with the power and the cold now permeating his body. "I can get you some warmer clothes, dry clothes. No one will notice if I take some extra. I haven't..." He hadn't partaken of the gifts of others in a while. No one would say anything and she was squatting here in her panties and the leather top. It was kinda pulling at desires she had awakened but it was cold and Sasha was once again shivering.

She mentioned a name. One he knew or at least heard of he'd never met the man. His name was spoken in hushed whispers by most but there was always one vocal voice who spoke out against him. She was tiny in size but voracious in her dislike of the man. Yet the tiny girl next to her adored him. It was so confusing to Sasha. But Oriena trusted him, he could tell by the way she said his name and offered the advice. But she could send him in to danger too. He didn't ask questions about the man. He could ask Zeke. Zeke was more inclined to talk to him and not bite his head off.

[Oriena]

The soft ghost of his voice finally irritated. She didn't care what Sasha did, and he was so hesitant about it he didn’t even finish his fucking sentences – like he was caught between waiting for her approval and the fear of her fatal bite. Oriena gave him the excuse to leave and he should have taken it. Because hanging around her was permission of its own, and she wouldn't keep her claws sheathed.

Fury roused in a torrent, burying the vulnerable exhaustion. Her eyes flashed open, dark with venom. Sex made no connection, she never let it; that wasn’t a mistake she’d ever repeat, with anyone. And she certainly wasn’t his to be concerned about because of one hard and very short fuck against a wall.

Her heart was racing in a way she didn’t think was normal, but she stuck a fist on the ground and pushed herself back up to standing.

“You can get out of my way. I can take what I need. And I owe Ezekiel a hello for the fucking storm.”

She meant to stalk dangerously close, knowing he was afraid of her – intending to cement it, or maybe just send him running back into the shadows for good. But her legs buckled barely two steps from the alcove. Her knees hit the snow and gravel, the jarring impact of her hands following a moment later. The freezing rain pelted her red-raw back with shock. Her arms quivered as the pressure built and she fought it, until they too failed to hold her up.

Suddenly she knew what was happening. In the undercity she’d seen the ijiraq first, a faint smudge of light to begin with, until it pulled on the darkness to give itself form. It had forced its way in, igniting her with visions that remained only in her knowledge of the power the ijiraq coveted. Afterwards she’d woken in darkness, fuck only knew how much later, the connection between them a furious and violent thing. A permanent fusion.

She’d never seen the fucking thing leave.

The vessel is breaking
It fights us
It fights itself

The buzz of its hive voice in her head trembled her with pain, stronger than usual. Between the drugs, alcohol and her own spite she’d grown adept at drowning it out. This time, it stole the consciousness right out of her.