Meditation on Recent Events

It seemed more and more often that he needed to get away from things. His so-called bedroom was hardly private with Abenzu as his roommate, and the headaches were becoming . . . worse. Much, much worse.

Ambrose walked around the castle until he came to the familiar field. He paced around its edges, judging whether or not anyone was already here before staying a while. After all, it was much easier to find seclusion in the outdoors rather in the castle-- although he was sure that there were plenty of nooks and crannies there to service his needs, most of them were known to others. He needed absolute solidute.

He walked a ways through the field. It was rather open, more than to his liking, but he had tried the forest earlier only to find it otherwise occupied. It was best to stay here, where no one was looking.

Ambrose glanced this way and that, a few drops of snow here and there falling. They didn't bother him enough to force departure, though, and so he stayed. He sat down onto the cold ground and its grass, wrapping his name-scarf a little closer towards his face. After a few more moment's pause just to be safe, Ambrose pulled the two items of concern from his vest's pockets.

One was the gold coin that Disaster gave him on the boat ( [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] ). He polished it daily, just like every other coin, but with more caution than the others. Like he was holding a bomb.

The other item was also accquired recently: a reflective shard of glass ( [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] -- also mentioned in the Math S2, L2 assignment). Ambrose had found it in his jeans pocket during his stay in the infirmary.

Although feeling attachment towards both items, there was a feeling of regret towards the coin and longing towards the shard . . . although, he didn't know why he had any feelings at all towards the glass shard. And, he hadn't had any time to dwell on it. Still, it seemed like They were done prying . . . for now. Now was as good a time as any to settle things once and for all. He closed his eyes in concentration . . .

Leon flew high up in the air on silent wings, just entering the fields. It was hardly discreet though given the sharp contrast between his wings and the cool sky. The falling snow had prompted to at least wear his windbreaker and and a dark scarf, though no flake managed to reach his skin because of the heat given off by his wings.

He was looking for Ketsuta. Leon had already had a satisfying break after the Halloween ball and now it was time to clean up. This was what happened Leon Barner tried to have a little fun. He'd have to resist any urges in the future.

He lowered himself in the air some, looking down into the field below him. Then he saw a familiar face. The red-headed boy who'd attacked him at the Halloween Ball. The screaming banshee. Leon was pretty his name was something along the lines of.. Ambrose, though he wasn't positive and didn't particularly care. He'd decided at the ball that Hotshot was an appropriate name for him since he seemed to believe he was invincible. What had even prompted him to attack? Leon honestly couldn't remember.

He decided, since the situation seemed to be presenting itself, that he'd find out. The last thing he needed was one more banshee pestering him. He lowered himself in the air as if preparing to land, but instead hovered several feet above it just in case. This was more easier said then done, but he managed.

Leon didn't say anything though. Rather he just waited. Whatever Ambrose did or said would determine Leon's response.

The glass shard . . . It was reminicent of the OCT, wasn't it? Although . . . the tournament was still foggy in his mind. Everything was a blur after that third round. What exactly happened? Who did he beat the crap out of (because, in his mind, there was no way he would have lost)? It was still so faint, so frustrating.

An unusual breeze hit onto Ambrose. He immediately opened his eyes. Something was wrong. He glanced around--

HIM. The one that hurt Yuuki.

Ambrose immediately dashed from his original spot while pulling out a plastic fork from his pocket. The idea today was to get away from as many people as possible, so he had only brought one with him. Damn it. He would have to make due with what he had; it would all be in the aim.

Without saying anything, without say a word, Ambrose threw his single plastic fork at the boy's face. If anything, it would intice the black-winged monster to come down to the ground. Ambrose could then fight him bare-handed. It would be difficult with those flames, but he would make due. Somehow.

Leon's eyebrows creased as Ambrose suddenly jumped into action. What the hell? This was what he didn't want. Seeing the fork plummet towards his face, and honestly not expecting it, he quickly pulled his wings inward and allowed himself to drop down to the ground. He could feel fork cutting the air just over his head as he dropped and it continued to fly past him for a while before dropping uselessly several feet away.

Now firmly planted on the ground, Leon extended his wings outward once more, 6 foot wings ready to pull himself back into the air at a moment's notice if he needed to. Dark energy tinted violet at the very ends made its way to his right hand. Leon still didn't know why he was being attacked, but he wasn't going to waste any time in defending himself.

"What the hell is your problem. I don't even know who you are." Leon was managing to remain calm. It didn't look like Ambrose had anything going for him that would provide some advantage. He looked human. If he was, then Leon didn't have anything to worry about. He kept a smirk off his face. No point antagonizing him; he really wasn't in the mood. "Clearly you don't know me either if you think you can hurt me with a plastic fork, Hotshot."

(( Apologises for the cursing. > <; ))

He doubted the plastic fork? Clearly, it was the boy who did not know with whom he was dealing with.

Ambrose paced around the winged-boy carefully, observant of every movement he made, however slight. Those wings would be a problem, as always, but if he could break one of them . . . then, the advantage would be his.

"Who are you calling 'Hotshot,' Bitch," Ambrose glared back, searching for something, anything to use . . . Ah-hah!

Assuming that the wings were simularily constructed to a bird's (and, why wouldn't they?), the bones were not only hollow but thickest at the top, the feathers hanging down below. What if . . . What if he broke the top bone? It would render the entire wing flightless. Break the wing, break the boy, and sweet revenge would be his.

Ambrose charged towards the black-winged boy, heading straight towards him. He then veered-off at the last second, attempting to grab hold of the rightmost wing. Almost there. . . !

(Ambrose thinks he can logically figure out how demon stuff works but hes completely wrong ^^; I know he still wouldn't know but I'll explain it a bit just for your sake XP..... ooo crap I just realized. Ambrose has that gold coin o.o'))

Leon kept a close eye on Ambrose's actions. The boy seemed to be considering how best to approach. Leon wanted to laugh. Here was this human boy whose weapon of choice was a plastic fork. He had the naivety of child, thinking he'd be able to even get anywhere near the demon.

He relaxed his stance, which till now he hadn't even realized was tense. The hand that was enveloped in his energy was especially so. He took in a breath in an attempt to calm himself. He wasn't angry now, but it seemed Saren wanted to change that.

Leon lowered his wings, bringing them in a bit closer. The heat radiating off the pure energy was a constant reminder that they were there. He could hardly feel the burn at his shoulder blades anymore, he'd grown so used to it. Anyone else, however, who touched his wings or energy in general would be burned. They were really pure energy. There was no bone inside, they had no actual weight to them. Any injury sustained by them healed within minutes, less if he retracted. And then, if he released them again, they'd materialize good as new. His energy what was what healed all of his injuries anyway. The only real injury that could come to them was from gold. Gold was the cause of the single scar that rounded the "elbow" of his left wing.

Seeing Ambrose rush towards him, Leon felt his hand tense around the energy again. Now he wasn't sure if this was just a natural defensive tendency of his or Saren's influence. He turned to one side Ambrose suddenly changed direction. Then, realizing his intentions, he let out a single, "Ha!"

Leon didn't move much more than that. He remembered Ambrose had attacked his wings at the Halloween Ball too. It seemed the only he'd learn was by getting burnt. He moved his right wing over his shoulder, having to crouch a bit. The left one he extended outward, out of the boy's reach. He didn't want him attacking his scar again, and was prepared to pull it in or turn his body more should Ambrose make a move to do just that.

"You want to play with my wings? Is that it? You think you know it all, don't you Hotshot? You haven't got a clue?" He spoke as though he were speaking to a child. He couldn't stop the smirk from appearing and he snickered. "Did you know we don't bleed either?" Of course, it was a lie. He wanted to point out, once again, how little the human knew about demons.

(( In a lot of ways, it's his major weakness: logic is N/A in AALC. XD ))

"'We don't bleed'?" Ambrose repeated, taking yet another swipe at the wing-- but, the boy was too far, so he halted the pursuit for now. "Just what the hell are you insinuating? I don't care what exactly you are: everyone bleeds." Including the Powers That Be . . .

Unconciously, due to remembering Them, Ambrose picked-up the gold coin from the ground and flipped it around in his hands. Any coin in his hand, even this one, helped calm him down. That was right-- there were still constants in this world. Some things would never change, this coin in particular.

Though staring at the coin and his reflection in it (while one side bore an unknown face, the other was completely smooth and empty of design, acting as a mirror), he also kept an eye on the winged-boy, not daring to let up his gaurd. The boy seemed more relaxed now, but who knew when he would strike?

"Let me just ask a question," Ambrose started, now with the coin sounding as calm as could be. "What makes you think I don't know anything? For all you know, I could have your theoretical diary."

Neither facial expression nor his stance changed as Ambrose pulled out the coin. He knew it was gold, and that meant Ambrose now had a leg up on him. But decades of experience and manipulating angels had taught him how to not react to unexpected developments. Besides, Ambrose was still only human.

Leon faked a laugh. "Well first of all there's the fact that I don't keep a diary. And second there's your naive idea that attacking my wings will give you an advantage." He lifted his wings a bit to emphasize his point. Part of him want to channel some energy more to them, make them flare up angrily, but this would a pointless waste of energy, and it was difficult to do. His rounded a bit past his shoulders and slowly retreated back, as if daring Ambrose to try and get close.

Leon however shrugged and crossed his arms in front of him. "Now can I ask you a question?" He didn't wait for an answer before continuing, "Why are you still attacking me?" His wings, though slowly, hadn't stopped moving. Now they were fully outstretched, raised above his head.

Ambrose didn't dare take the challenge, attempting to plan his victory but with too many variables to deal with. Why would damaging the wings not harm him at all-- was it a bluff, or the truth? Also, what was the poing of asking about asking a question? It seemed very redundant.

"You hurt Yuuki," Ambrose explained cooly, still watching the boy carefully for any oncoming movements. The outstretched wings were very threatening, like a looming bear over its prey. "Certianly you remember."

Ambrose still could recall that night in his mind so vividly . . . The rush of Yuuki's blue wings out the ballroom followed by the black wings . . . and only finding this boy at the end of it. He did something to her-- Ambrose could tell.

"Where is she?" Ambrose interrogated, his anger seeping back despite or even due to the coin. "What did you do with her?"

Leon's eyebrows creased and he put a hand to his chin in thought. Had he hurt Yuuki? He honestly couldn't remember. He knew Ketsuta had made an appearance at the ball, and they may have led to him attacking her. Though he couldn't remember if he'd actually hurt her. He didn't care either way, and he doubted Yuuki would either if it led to her getting her body back.

"Do you specialize in ignorance, I wonder? Or do you just happen to be totally oblivious to everything around you?" He shrugged. "Whatever." He had no obligation to explain anything to Ambrose, nevermind Yuuki and her Ketsuta problems. It really was none of his business.

A smirk, a tad more sinister than he'd meant it to be, grew on his lips and was visible past his hand. "Hotshot to the rescue?" He teased. Now he removed his hand from his chin and his expression became serious again. "Spare me the melodrama, Romeo. I didn't do anything to her." He paused a moment, not sure if he should say the next part. "Actually I was just looking for her."

Ambrose, ignorant? Far fromt it. The things he knew . . . The things he didn't want to know, more like it. He was throughoutly insulted, either way. He was liking this boy less and less. Besides, he more likened himself to Iago--

Wait, what?

"Like I would believe that," Ambrose frowned, insulted that he would be taken so lightly as to believe the black-winged boy. "You attacked her, I saw it, so why should I trust you? Why should I take anything you say, any word to be true?" Anything at all . . .

Ambrose started to finger the gold coin more rapidly until the coin was merely a blur around his fingers. How dare the boy come here, just when he was about to sort things out. How DARE he? The rage was starting to flood inside, the coin glimmering more and more.

Leon let out a sigh. He didn't know why this kid though he was so important. He was a human. Leon was seriously thinking about just leaving. What would he do? Throw another little plastic fork at him. Ambrose was pathetic. As though he were on top of the world, as though he'd seen it all. Pshh. Who did he think he was? He reminded Leon of a child playing grownup. An image of a young Ambrose commanding his father to go to his room popped into his head and he couldn't suppress a laugh.

Still smiling from the laugh he shrugged. "I'm not asking you to believe. I couldn't care one way or the other." In fact, he thought, it was more entertaining to see Ambrose thinking he knew what was going on again when he didn't. In passing, he noticed that he no longer had to stop the tension from returning to his hand. It seemed Saren realized that Leon wasn't going to lose his temper here. Either that or he was just as amused by the boy he was.

Finally, Leon dropped his facade and allowed himself to notice the gold coin in the boy's hand. He wished he could shot it with his energy, get a sense for how many karats it was. It certainly looked valuable... and painful. Leon's smile faded only slightly, a result of the silent joke's passing, and he jutted a chin outwards, gesturing to the coin. "Stressed?

With every syllable of the boy's laugh, Ambrose's rage grew. He rarely felt rage, but now . . . It seemed like since he arrived at the castle, he was becoming more and more of a loose cannon. The coin spun in his hands faster and faster, almost with a mind of its own. . . .

His hair flashed red. Not the dried blood it was usually colored, but more vivid, fresh blood. His eyes, usually faded brown, was now the same as his hair.

Yes, he was stressed. For good reason. Between Them, a fragment of a mirror that he couldn't place, Yuuki's disappearance, the irrational anger of Denali, and . . . ALL of it. It was . . . It was proving too much.

The coin spun faster. And faster, if possible.

NO! He clutched his head violently. I don't want this-- I NEVER WANTED THIS!

The grass rustled underneath despite little wind. The rain flickered downpour here and there. In the distance, there was lightning.

Despite all opinions, no one deserved this fate, not even the black-wing boy.

"RUN," he pleaded, a last desperate cry.

The smile completely fell from Leon's lips. It seemed the boy was losing it. Funny, Leon had managed to remain relatively calm. In retrospect, he didn't even think he was being particularly annoying. It was a fact that Ambrose made off to know more than he actually did, and Leon was infamous for stating the obvious. If it was because his laughing, well his thoughts were his own, though he supposed he could have suppressed it if he'd wanted to.

Leon couldn't seem to place what was getting Ambrose so angry now, though he was hardly comfortable with it. The sharp change in eye color was oddly reminiscent to his own eyes, which became darker when Saren was close to taking over. He could practically feel the color of his eyes. He knew they were still their normal shade of blue without having to look in a mirror.

If Ambrose's sudden anger was anything like Saren's possession, then there was no way Leon would be caught underestimating it. Still, curiosity seemed to be leading his thoughts now. It obviously didn't appear that he and Ambrose would settle their differences now. Something such as this,. would be a good thing to know about the boy, for future reference.

Never one to let an opportunity go ignored, Leon chose to remain. The tension returned his hands and now he summoned energy to his left hand to mirror the black fire that had claimed his right. His knees bent slightly and his wings situated themselves so they came out behind him only slightly out to either side. If Ambrose charged him, one powerful push of his wings in this position would pull him back and into the air. It had to be timed correctly though. Too late, and he didn't doubt that Ambrose would be perfectly capable of pulling him back down straight out of the air. Leon wasn't good in close combat, but he'd experienced plenty of times already to understand, in general, what a grounded person was capable of.

Leon had no facial distortion. If Ambrose was losing it, then he had to be the one to remain calm, otherwise this would get really ugly, really fast. Nor could he accept help from the immortal demon god. Saren never gave anything without the assurance that he'd least get some satisfaction out of it. He didn't say anything, only stared at the red-headed boy with a blank expression that he hoped surprised the demon god.

IT flooded through his mind, the immense pleasure and joy taking hold. Fight as Ambrose may--

"I DIDN'T WANT THIS!"

--it was no use. As always. The glee overwhelmed him, taking control over him. THEM. It was always Them. Except, this time, it was . . .


“So, you’re the new kid on the sidewalk, eh?”

Ambrose turned towards the speaker, a flamboyant man with long, wild yet pale and fragile blonde hair, parted to reveal striking blue eyes. He wore a black jacket, black fingerless gloves, a tight gray shirt, and criminally-tight pants, light reflecting off the stretched latex to make a shimmer. He also bore various piercings and revealed a tounge-stud as he continued to speak.

“Of course, I’m being figurative.” Every sentence he spoke was laced with, well, lace. “There’s no sidewalk where we are.”

Ambrose looked down at where he was standing, about to correct the surprise speaker when he found that no, he was no longer standing on the sidewalk of the city—instead, he was in the middle of what used to be a sidewalk. It was all demolition, around him and the mystery man. The evening crowd of the city was quite panicked.

“‘When Occurrence and Entropy meet, destruction will lie at their wake,’” the odd man quoted. “I suppose whoever wrote that was right; I only had to walk by you for a crater to form.”

Ambrose had no idea who this man was, but he wasn’t going to put up with it for much longer.

“Excuse me, I—“

“—have a bank to rob?” the man eerily finished, his voice still laced with hearts and puppies but also the cold ice of knowing. “Sorry to say, multiple lightning strikes just recently decimated your target.”

As if on-cue, a screaming ambulance rushed by, dodging the new destruction to take care of the old. Knowing Them now, the vehicle was most definitely staged.

“Who are you?” Ambrose finally questioned, cuffing his fingers to grasp the odd man’s shirt.

“Don’t stretch the shirt, my dear Entropy,” the man ‘begged,’ although he was obviously enjoying this whole scenario too much.

“Answer me!”

And, all too conveniently, he did.

“I am Occurrence, what is more commonly known as Disaster,” the flamboyant man answered with glee. “And you, my dear Entropy, are privileged.”


. . . 'himself.' Figuratively speaking, of course.

A resounding SNAP went off seemingly in the distance, and all was eerily calm. The boy's head was raised up towards the sky, and a smile was etched across his mouth. His hair was black. His eyes were black. And nothing about him seemed human anymore. Far from it.

"I'm freeeeeee," he breathed, and the world seemed to stop.

Leon's stance didn't change, and he didn't take eyes off the being before him. It was clear it was no longer Ambrose. He channeled more energy to his hands, looser energy that could potentially ignite clothing. He held his hands so his palms face the thing and his fingers were curled. This way the flame-like energy traveled down his fingers then back up into the air and his own clothes wouldn't ignite.

A feeling of dread passed over Leon as he realized how difficult it would be to keep Saren out. He would be fighting two battles. Leon got a sense that he seemed to bring out the worst in people. Sometimes it was entertaining, but others, like now, it was a two-edged sword. He took a single step back, his foot making shuffling sound, and poised himself so he could more comfortably take off.

Truthfully, Leon didn't want to fight. He really wasn't one to resort to violence if he didn't have to. It was only when other people set him off that things got ugly. For now, however, he only planned to wait for the boy to make a move. Then, he would take to the air and watch. Learn.

Leon's right hand began to clench and the loose energy slowly began to make its way into his grip. On a whim, it hardened within his hand, molding to form a curved rod with a sharp end. It's structure was reminiscent to that of a boomerang. Just in case.

The THING glanced around his surroundings, taking it all in with a wild grin.

"I'm free," he whistled again, this time with more emphasis than length. It didn't matter what exactly he was free from, only that he was. And, now that he was . . .

The creature noticed in his hands a gold coin, still shining, still glimmering. He tossed it into a nearby corner of the plains.

"Useless chunk of metal," he muttered. This applied to all monetary units. Definately not Ambrose.

Finally, the monster turned his head sideways, eyes widening as they focused on the black-winged boy. He cocked his head a little, confused by why anyone was here.

"And, you would be. . . ?" he questioned, curious as to why any presence would exist around him.

Panic rushed throughout the air . . . Hushed whispers could now be heard by anyone with careful ears, although not distinctive enough to make out the words. They were worried. And, for good reason.

((Nope, I have no idea what's going on XD))

Leon was able to relax a little when the now black-haired boy threw the gold off to the side, but he didn't show it. It seemed he didn't have any grasp on how useful it actually could be.

He didn't move a muscle and his eyes never left the frame of the thing standing before him. Leon observed every movement however slight, looking for anything that might give away his next actions. Truthfully he wasn't getting a good read off of him. Leon couldn't identify what his intentions were. He was free? From what?

Leon was becoming nervous with anticipation but still held still. He had a thought that whatever this thing was, it was at least more courteous than Ambrose who hadn't even bothered asking who he was. Leon was never for courtesy anyway. "What's it to you?" He asked, granting the question less anger than was usually given to it. He registered the whispers,k at first listening hard to try and hear what they were saying. But eventually he gave up, uninterested.

(( It'll clarify as the scene progresses. ^ ^; ))

The creature thought about this question seriously.

"Well, the mere aspect of someone being merely feet away from me while still being alive certianly peaks my interest, expecially someone so young . . . or, not?" he amended, observing Leon under a figurative microscope. "Seen a fair number of years, have you? Nice double-conciousness there, too." He then suddenly lost interest and started to pace around the field.

The voices were louder. Loud enough that even the ones that were not interestest still heard.

"He's out! HE'S OUT!"

"Dear God, save us all."

"What do we do?!" one particularily panicked voice screamed, almost as loud as it would be in a normal plane. "WHAT DO WE--"

"Shut the hell up, all of you," the monster ordered. "Or not. Really, I don't give a damn." It was true, he didn't-- either way, the THING would be satisified. If They didn't shut up, he would just have to make Them. Simple.

Immediately, there were no more voices. It wasn't right to cross such a fiend. Not when someone could actually hurt Them.

"Much better," Ambrose grinned. Except, it wasn't Ambrose. Not even the previously red-haired boy could produce such a grin. It wasn't human. It couldn't be.

He turned towards the black-winged boy . . .

Without word or warning, the monster took a step towards Leon. And another. He was inching closer. And every fiber of every being in existance wanted to get away. Even the grass bent down before he stepped on their blades.

The guy was beginning to grate Leon's nerves. Who did he think he was? Was he seriously trying to claim that there be life around him. If those were his expectations then he would be disappointed. Much as he'd tried to keep a lid on it, Leon could feel his anger rising. He couldn't tell if the boy was trying to be pompous or if he really was surprised at the fact that something living and breathing was in proximity of him.

"Double-consciousness?" It was question disguised as a statement. It may not have been the same person, but they did seem to share that nasty habit of pretending to know more then they really did.

Leon's hand clenched harder around the weapon he'd made. He bared his teeth, annoyed by the frantic whispers, annoyed that they were distracting him. He would have ordered them to shut up himself, but the boy beat him to it. He was becoming angry, and he knew it. He wanted to close his eyes for a moment, extinguish his energy and push it all the way back to his heart. Just for a moment. But then the creature began to stalk towards him.

A scowl crossed Leon's face, as though he were disgusted by the slow way the boy walked. He wished he would hurry up. Get it over with already. It seemed the more time that was wasted, the more Leon's anger rose. He wanted to move, but refused to until he absolutely had to. He refused to give Saren the satisfaction.

"What the hell do you want?" He practically snarled it, quickly losing patience. He'd had enough the boy already. He'd already decided that the frantic whispers could possibly have been an intimidation tactic. If Leon could, that's how he'd use it. To be safe though, he decided it probably wouldn't be a good idea to leave this loose. Though he wouldn't admit it, he'd grown close to certain things at the academy. This was the only reason he hadn't left the raven-haired boy in his gust.

"Double-conciousness?" the creature repeated with some confusion. "No, there's just me. And me and me and me and me and . . . ALL me." His grin was teetering on insanity. Either that, or he had already pass the line. It was hard to tell.

He took another step. Taunting.

"I don't want anything," IT said with laced poison. "Actually, that's a lie-- I want everything this world has to offer." He kept grinning, wider and wider . . . "All methods of entertainment. And the blood. The blood's important." How could that grin keep growing?

Another step . . .

"What color is your blood?" he questioned--

He was gone. And then, he was behind. Aiming.

"LET'S SEE, SHALL WE?" He swung the hand . . .

Leon seethed. Why was he still talking? Why wouldn't he stop talking? Did he know his voice was making Leon? His fist clenched harder over the weapon, the veins in he arm becoming visible, and he tried to focus on the burning. He tried to feel it, something he'd gotten so used to that it didn't faze him anymore.

Leon didn't want to look at his face. His face made him angry, not as much as his voice though. He was rambling. Leon tried to call on his methods to ignore as much of it as possible, and only pick up on the important things, the things would hint at any kind of action he may take. He was seething too much, though. It was all or nothing.

The step didn't bother him. He still didn't move. He was already prepared for any action the thing may take, no matter how slow or annoying.

At the question of blood, Leon was about to repeat what he'd said to Ambrose earlier, about demons not bleeding. But then he vanished.

Leon wasted no time in taking off, his wings were aching for it. All he had to do was bring his wings down in one powerful stroke, fill them with air, and then he'd be pulled back and into the air. It was referred to as his one-step, backwards-takeoff..

He brought his wings down, eyes scanning the field. Then, too late, heard that infuriating voice, right behind him.

The THING didn't care for anything else at that moment. He had to know. He had to know. What color was the boy blood? What color was the boy's blood? What color what color what color what color--

The creature lept at the black-winged boy with a surge of power due to sheer greed. He had to know. He had to know!

He grabbed for the boy's neck, heart racing. He had so many plans for the boy, oh yes he did. He would ring his precious neck until blood poured by the gallons out of his mouth. He would tear of the head and have all that he would ever want-- for the time. He would have all of this. ALL of it.

(Omg Ambrose that post actually scared me. My Leon! *swats Ambrose/Monster/Entropy/Whatever-it-is* DX)

Leon's eyes became wide as he felt the hand at his neck. Oddly enough, he seemed to almost feel the darkness draining from his eyes, returning to their normal dark blue shade. No doubt Saren had just labeled this encounter as something he didn't want to involve himself in. Likely, he preferred to watch Leon deal with it himself. He was on his own. That was fine; it was how he wanted it.

Leon planted his feet back on the ground and opened his wings wide, hoping to catch Ambrose inbetween them and burn him. He turned the self-made weapon in his hand and plunged the sharp end back where he hoped the boy's gut was.

(( It was suppose to frighten you. >: D My job is done. ))

The gut. Such a wonderful place to aim any strike. The creature had to acknowledge that, at least. So, he didn't hesitate in the slightest not to dodge the jab. Why would he? Spread the joy, spread the fear, that was always his goal . . .

His hands were still around the boy's neck, still attempting to wring out of the winged boy's blood. Ah, blood. What a wonderful word. The way it rolled off the tounge made his own blood boil with joy. Certianly the boy felt the same way. Certianly the whole world felt the same way. If they didn't, their loss.

"How does it feel?" the creature questioned, not caring if the boy couldn't breath. That wasn't his problem. "How does it TASTE?"