Out of the White and Into the Black

[Robert Cross]

The candle is lit in the Caldarium. As it always must be. A beacon, a sign or symbol of damnation.

And before that candle stands a man who has seen more than enough fire. Who bears the marks, signs or symbols, of flame on his very flesh for all eternity. And who knows that there will be flames waiting for him should the forever-night come to an end for him.

After all, it is his lot, his fate. For he is one of the Damned.

Cross had wanted to seek out Alice the moment his eyes opened this evening. To demand an explanation of her. Or to profess his relief at her return. He's not sure which. Recognizing this confusion, he'd elected to let her find him. And so, he'd gone to the newly resurrected Dark Temple to pray. To beg God to clear his mind, to make him see what should be done.

Of course, there was no answer. He didn't really expect one. He is not deserving of God's council.

And now he's back in the Caldarium. Waiting. For Her. Anxious, unsure how his first real conversation with Alice since her return will pan out. But knowing they must talk.

The Burned Man holds his small copy of the Testament, given to him long ago by the then-Bishop Gilroy, reading by the light of that candle while he waits. Softly, softly, but loud enough for her to follow, the Burned Man says the words. The passage in question, funny enough, warns against hewing too closely to the Testament itself. It is a lesson he's decided he must learn:

"Do not let yourself be lulled into complacency by faith in the Purpose and the teachings of the Dark Prophet. For serving the Purpose cannot be accomplished by mere mouthing of doctrines and groveling to one's betters. No, God's Purpose is a burden and a charge, and he who claims to exemplify Damnation without effort or proper works is not in communion with the faithful."

His voice: a rough murmur in the flame-lit darkness.

[Alice Hart]

She hadn't been gone that long at all. Ale could have stashed her away, she could have left her for the sun, or never told anyone else that Alice was in torpor, playing her disappearance as the disappearances that were common place within the Domain.

Having some nights to settle her mind, then with the sudden reaquantance with the Family, she realized how much could change in such a sort time.

Gilroy had come back!

The thought still scent shock-waves through her. She was already planning to meet with him to Re-Acknowledge the Fanged Worm, but would they meet in the silence of the night, or would he wait until Court to make his debut?

Alice had woken, hunted. Feeling so much better now that she was free to do so, and returned to the realm Below.

She walked the length and breadth of it. Noting, now that she could that there was more.

Tunnels were opening, and rooms given purpose again.

It was finally, finally starting to resemble it's old self again.

Feet carrying her as she marvels, a too wide, too fake smile gracing her lips.

That's of course when her keen ears heard it.

Robert.

She stops. Her heart were it beating, would stop, clenching at the rolling emotion thundering through her.

She'd been gone too long.

She stands there in the entrance, the flames causing the Wraith to hiss and demand they turn, leave. But Robert was here, and that was enough to keep her feet planted.

She makes no noise. Not when it seems like he was at prayer. She wouldn't want her own to be disturbed, so she waits. A silent ghost for Robert to acknowledge her presence.

[Robert Cross]

How does he know? How does he know she's there?

It's not the Beast. Because, like himself, her Monster, her Wraith as she calls it, is hidden.

It's not some telltale sound. She is as quiet as the darkness.

Perhaps he simply feels her presence. Perhaps it is love?

Whatever the reason, the Burned Man falls silent, closing the book in his hands with a rustle of the pages. He turns his head, his scarred profile would be visible to her in the candle light. If she could see.

"Alice?" He asks. Though he's already sure it's her. That one word, two syllables somehow says so much. His anticipation, his anxiety. His longing and even a touch of his anger. It's all there, all mixed up together.

Finally, he turns fully toward her, slipping the book into his jacket pocket. The volume is just that small. He doesn't move, doesn't go to her. Not yet. "Alice," he says again. This time it's not a question, but a confirmation. As he finds her with his eyes, he wonders, not for the first time: Can she feel me, looking at her? Taking her in?

"How are you?" It's the only thing he can think to ask. It seems so pale, so weak, when there's so much to say. But he's got to start somewhere.

[Alice Hart]

Alice would have stood there waiting until Robert was finished.

Would have waited, listening to his prayer, wondering what would have happened if the Farm hadn't been firebombed, if her eyes hadn't fallen to ash. The former breathing terror into her being, and if not for the latter, she would have never found her way into the Crone's embrace. She wondered if, her fledgling faith would have lead her to follow the same path that Robert had walked.

His voice brakes her out of her reverie.

"Robert." she returns. Her voice, ever hollow, is threaded with much the same as is found in his. The anger though, that's missing. Replaced with relief.

There's movement now, but Alice keeps herself at the entrance of the Dark Temple. This place is his, not her's.

The time between the second calling of her name and his question are met with her tilting her head. Only for the question to cause her to abort the action, her head tucks downward instead. She bites at her lip.

"I...I don't know." she admits. "I feel....different. Distant. Like I'm wrapped in wool. I...Ale woke me, fed me. Rats." she hastens to add. Knowing how her words might be taken. "Then let me call Lyssa to fetch me something better. From my Herd. I-" did Robert even know she'd gathered a few mortal 'witches' and kept herself fed off their ritual sacrifice? No, defiantly not. But, had she ever mentioned her Herd before? Alice couldn't remember. "I was full when I left....but it didn't help. Everything feels...different. I don't...know how else to explain it." Her head raises, the motion, like she was seeking his eyes, before it stops abruptly. It was a habit, not broken, of the decades she had eyes.

[Robert Cross]

...woke me, fed me. Rats...

Rats. That detail seems to say it all. The Reeve's choice of sustenance for the Seneschal of the Domain, the Priscus of Haunts, and her own coterie mate, upon waking her from God knows what nightmares: vermin.

Where Cross had brought Longstreet a man. A living breathing man.

And you watched him die, a voice whispers in his skull. You watched that man die. It's easy to dismiss the thought though. Because what Cross had done for his Brother was offer him respect. A meal worthy of his station. Longstreet was a sleeping wolf and the Burned Man brought him a lamb to wake him.

Alice deserved no less. In fact, she deserved more. But Alessandra hadn't seen fit.

She'd brought Alice rats.

Herd? Cross hadn't known. No. Lyssa he was aware of. But nothing beyond. Then again, though, Alice doesn't know about his own stable. His own collection of strays and outcasts.

All of these thoughts race through the Burned Man's mind in mere seconds. The whole time he is still, watching her. Hungry to draw close, to smell her, to touch her. But he doesn't. He stays where he is.

Finally, he speaks: "Why did you go to her Alice? And why didn't you tell me first?" His voice is low, quiet, but there's a furious, demanding edge there. An edge of distress, of pain, of hurt and anger.

[Alice Hart]

He's quiet, and doesn't move.

Alice doesn't know what she was expected, but for him to stay away wasn't it.

It might have been seconds, but it feels like an eternity.

Her finders come together, the motion familiar, but before she could twine and twist her fingers together, she forces her arms to keep moving until they mimic a crossing. One hand on the opposite arm, while that arm finds the fabric of her shirt and clutches it in her fingers.

"I-" She starts, he's side stepped her babbling brook of words that had flowed from her, and Alice wonders if he'd just demand answers from her and not do anything with the results. "I went to her because...because if I didn't. I wouldn't be here anymore. I would have run. I was already under a punishment, and then I fell to frenzy...it's only by the will of the Gods that I didn't attack Ale. Or-or you." her voice, small. Mind full of memories.

She rends her mind away from the flashes of the attack she could remember, "You would have stopped me." She says, they both know it's true.

[Robert Cross]

"Yes, your punishment," he replies, voice dripping with cold disdain. She knows by now what Cross thinks of that whole affair. Foolishness to begin with. But he's not going to press that now.

He watches her hug herself and feels a jab of pain. You did that. You're the one hurting her now. You're the one she needs to defend herself against, that voice whispers again. And for a moment Cross feels his anger falter, feels the flames recede. He takes a step toward her, but stops short when she speaks again. The Beast raging up inside of him at her explanations. Does she not know him at all? Worse, does she think he doesn't know her?

"Maybe it's not so cut and dry, Alice. Sure, I would've tried to stop you. But I know you. For Christ's sake, I've known that you're dead set on accepting whatever punishments they hand down. For duty, for honor, whatever..." Yes, and he even understands, as much as he doesn't want to. He understands duty. It doesn't stop him from putting a scornful accent on that they, though.

"So I wouldn't have been able to stop you, no matter how much I wanted to. But did you ever stop to consider what your disappearance might do to our Family? What it might do to me?" Oh yes, Cross. You know all about the pain a sudden disappearance can cause, don't you? Ignoring his own self-accusations, he soldiers on. "You would've gone through with it anyway, I know. But we could've planned. We could've left things in order." We could've said goodbye. "We might've even been able to set terms, to keep you here instead of..." The Nox.

"They wouldn't even let me see you!" It comes out loud, somewhere between a shout and a wail.

And now there comes the sound of several quick steps and he's right in front of her. The smell of burnt hair and seared flesh somehow more intense than usual. His hands grip her shoulders, as if he's trying to make sure she's actually with him, actually there. As if he's trying to keep her from leaving again.

"You went off to do your duty to them. And you didn't think about your duty to us." The pain makes his voice waver, crack, and he pauses. When he speaks again, he has himself back under control: "Alice, I didn't know if I'd ever see you again. I..." Cross hangs his head and perhaps she can feel it, the way his weight shifts and there's more pressure on her shoulders, as if he's using her for support.

[Alice Hart]

"Yes my punishment." Alice starts, her arms falling. "The one I got for trusting my Coterie mate to-to listen! To be there for me when I was numb, in shock. I murdered a member of the Domain. I turned to Ale, because there was no one else around." she said through her teeth. "But...she decided that the Laws were more important then me. She chose to bring me to Clarke, and she chose to starve me."

He stakes a step, and Alice do to her self appointed restrictions, doesn't meet.

"No." Alice shakes her head, "No. You're not listening." maybe it had been to long. Maybe they'd forgotten how to speak without words. "You would have tried to stop me. And I...I would have let you." she admits, feeling a strange paradoxical weight. Both pressing and lifted.

"I left without saying anything so I could talk to her. I didn't go there expecting her to stake me!" is her return, "I wouldn't have done that to the Family. To you." she shakes her head again, "I know her, and I knew she needed to add something to even the scales. I gave her suggestions. More then I thought I would to satisfy her sense of duty. But she chose to stake me. Make it so I wouldn't leave that warehouse aware. But...she let me make a phone call. And I-I called you." and it went straight to voicemail.

There's a sound that's half a laugh, and more a sob. "I woke up in my office. Apparently that's where I was kept. Just in there. Behind a locked door."

Quick steps, and then he was here more real then the voice across the room. His hands meet her shoulders and hers find his jacket.

"I didn't. I promise. I just went to talk. That's all. I didn't....I-" quickly comes, her voice a hollow mockery of his own. Tried.

Her fingers twist, balling up the fabric in her fist, sharply she remembers the first time she treated his ever present jacket like this.

"Robert" said so softly it might have been a prayer. "....I didn't know if I would either."

[Robert Cross]

"Maybe it's time to consider the fact that you don't know her as well as you think..." Cross says after listening closely to Alice's explanation. His voice is flat, final.

"Because, seems to me, you placed your trust in her again and again. And every step of the way she chose her duty, and her role as Reeve, over sympathizing with you. Or just plain understanding your position." The fury is still there, but it's cold now, pragmatic. The Burned Man has clearly thought about this a great deal. His accounting of the facts has the feel of well-worn territory.

"The Bea incident could have been dismissed as self-defense, or defense of the domain. It wasn't. And she chose to starve you. And, in that state, she put you in the position to fight for your continued existence. Starving, she thrust you into combat against the Brood. And you frenzied. Again, completely understandable. But did she choose to understand? No. She chose to put a stake in your heart. And when I reached out to her to discover what, exactly, had happened, she chose to keep me away from you."

He's still holding her shoulders. His cold, blue eyes searching her face for some reaction to what he's saying.

"I know she's your coterie mate. And I know she has certain obligations as Reeve. But I can't help thinking that this all could've been handled another way. I'm not saying you should hate her. That you should cut her off. Not exactly. I just want you to consider one thing: should you really trust her? Do you really believe she's got your best interest at heart?"

There's a long silence as he considers his next words carefully.

"Because at this rate, next time you put her trust in her, the next time you leave things in her hands, you may not come back..."

[Alice Hart]

"I do know her. I know her very well now." Alice says, her voice flat. There's nothing of the twisted mockery of fabricated emotion threaded through it. "You don't need to tell me she's Reeve first, and my Coterie mate second. But, she is my Coterie mate. You need to trust that I know what I'm doing."

"I could have also revoked her status as a member of the Domain, so my killing her would have been legal. Hell, I could have said I had cause for a Blood Hunt, and had the opportunity to end her before she could flee. But I didn't. I...failed to realize that I could. I forgot that I-that Seneschal isn't just a word, or just me Acknowledging new arrivals, so whichever Priscus, or the Prince himself didn't have to handle that. I forgot that I'm not just some glorified PA." she says out loud for the first time. "And that's something more had to be done. In the absence of the Prince, I'm the highest ranking member of the Domain."

Alice wished there was more overt sympathy from the Italian Savage, but Alice knew her, knew that there was a deep well of guilt and grief over everything that had happened since early April.

"I chose to be there. Even knowing I was starving. Ale didn't coerce me. I knew the risks. And I still made that choice." Alice says as firm as her hollow voice'll allow. She wasn't going to let Robert put everything on Ale, Alice was just as much at fault as the Reeve. "I don't know what happened when I was out. But...I was out, In-I. I said I gave other suggestions, suggestions that lead might have lead to my Final Death...and she didn't take those ones, she chose something that she knew how to deal with and how to bring me out of.

"I didn't frenzy. When she woke me. I was more in-control of myself then I'd been in years. I was...empty. Everything spent to heal my wounds, her holding a cupful of blood under my nose. I was calmer then she was."

"She's Reeve and I'm Seneschal. I have other obligations too." Alice reminds him. Not answering his question. When Alice came to Ale needing the Reeve, the Reeve was what she got, and when she sought her company just for her company, Ale was a good friend. Alice didn't know why Robert had been refused to see her, but she'll find out.

"I-" Alice stops, she'd relaxed her death grip on his lapels early, but it was only now that she moves a hand, upward in this instance, to cup the Burned Man's scared cheek. "Oh Robert, I'll always come back."