[Hannah Kerela]

The weather could not have been more horrid, she was thinking. She was absolutely certain of that fact. Her long, pale, slender fingers played an imaginary melody against her leg as she stepped in, shaking her head slightly to dislodge the moisture from her hair. She smoothed down her dress, white with dull gold abstract designs, and stepped out of her dull gold slippers, leaving them by the door - it didn't much matter whether she wore them or not, whether she was able to retrieve them or not, because she walked on an almost-imperceptible layer of air between her feet and the ground. Her legs were long and thin, as well, but with small, circular scars, one on each popliteal region, so pale as to be nearly imperceptible. But she noticed; of course she noticed. She always noticed.

And so she watched the dusky-blond girl walk into the temple, looking up silently as if to seek solace. As if to find some reason to keep living. Just like her. Walking the same solitary path, discontented with it but having no way to change. No way to believe it possible. So they had both ended up here, believing themselves alone until that critical point where two axes crossed, that origin from which a new position function could be drawn. If only they touched for a brief moment, and fused.

She approached the girl.

[Hannah Kerela]

She perceived the approach before she truly sensed it, turning to look at the loping animal that drew near her, a regal creature, to be sure, and small, but not so small as to be negated as a threat. And, yet, she was not threatened: this creature seemed not like a hunter. She turned fully, bending slightly to look at the feline. And who are you? Though her lips moved and her larynx vocalized, it was difficult to call her words speech, so quiet were they, even in the echoing halls of the shrine. She already felt faint, so far from the crowds was she. She reached out, touching the creature's head.

A touch, a single touch, and she knew immediately that their fates were joined, that this creature was far from an animal, but was indeed as much of a person as she herself, if not more of a person. She was shocked still for an instant, as the rush of emotion so similar to what she felt within herself overwhelmed her, and she forgot herself for that brief instant.

She didn't draw away. A fusion of fates, of lives, of minds.

[Hannah Kerela]

Gabriel let the girl touch her, waiting patiently, feeling the pull of her mind and, like her, losing herself for a brief moment. She didn't withdraw, though - the sense of familiarity after so long was comforting. The melody that resonated in the girl's essence was a familiar one, and Gabriel could appreciate that. She pressed forward, touching a paw to the girl's thigh in silent approval.

"We should move inside," she spoke, her words soft but clear. An unspoken agreement; they would walk this path together, find their meaning together, stay together. That was how they would both win.

[Hannah Kerela]

Cecilia nodded to the feline, following her in silence for a while into the Halls of Purity. They stood for a moment, looking at the candles, before she finally spoke. "What do you want from me?"

"The same thing you want from me," the feline responded. "A companion. A way to change." She could feel the feline's eyes staring at her, even if she didn't turn her head to look. "My name's Gabriel."

"Cecilia," she replied, distantly. "...How did it happen to you?" She had to ask, had to know if this really was what it felt like. She had to be sure. Absolutely sure. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Gabriel, who was staring at the flames, as if she saw something in them that Cecilia couldn't.

Actually, she probably did see something like that.

[Hannah Kerela]

Gabriel pondered her response carefully, weighing each response in her mind before speaking. "My brother killed me," she said, finally, going for as few details as possible. "Or, rather, nearly killed me. Something stopped him from dealing the final blow, giving me enough life left in me to get to a hospital and be healed."

She didn't have to add anything about the timers she saw, or the fact that - finally - she had met someone unreadable. Finally, she had met someone whose lifespan she did not see dwindling above their heads. It was euphoric to meet someone so unlike what she'd seen in so long.

She finally turned away from the candles to look at Cecilia. "How did it happen to you?" she returned.

[Hannah Kerela]

Cecilia didn't speak for a long while, then turned to look at Gabriel fully. The candlelight seemed too bright in her eyes, despite her own supposedly bright origins. She spoke, hesitantly. "I was one of a group. We were connected, lived off of one another. And... someone disconnected me. Someone took me and fed me their memories, saved my life, and taught me to live in society, to feed without being found out."

She turned her head, looking at the candles again. "But I can't see yours."

"Nor I yours."

"So... where do we go from here?"

[Hannah Kerela]

Gabriel considered it for a long moment, then decided: "We work together, I suppose. We find a way to rid both of ourselves of this... interesting phenomenon." She looked at Cecilia, not as bothered by the candlelight.

The girl had turned back to watch the flickering flames of fire, giving Gabriel a good view of her profile. She wore her hair down, but with her bangs pinned back out of her face. It just brushed the bottom of her shoulder-blades. Her dress was sleeveless, and went down to her knees, loose on her form. Her eyes, though, were remarkable, a brighter gold than the designs she wore, but dull, not as if dimmed, but as if merely misted over by a light fog. Staring straight ahead, moistened from memories long past.

Yes, the girl was beautiful. Gabriel could give her that much. The feline stretched. "Do you much mind if I change forms?"

The girl turned, her pale lips parted in a small "O" shape, her eyebrows raised. She'd surprised her, then. "I- ah- no, of course I don't mind," she said.

[Hannah Kerela]

And when the feline transformed, Cecilia was even more surprised. Gabriel had long, thin legs, cloaked in pale blue jeans, with a small, but somehow fitting chest, wearing an off-white halter top. Her eyes were a pale blue with pale blond hair framing them, this hair tipped with icy blue. She stretched her also-long-and-thin arms above her head, then cocked an eyebrow at Cecilia.

"What?"

Cecilia looked away quickly. "Nothing. So... We do this together," she said. "How? We don't even know what this is. Or, at least, I know I don't."

"Well, first, we search for the answers."

((To anyone who may be reading this that is a MLB baseball fan: GO RANGERS! Though I felt bad for the Yankees. Bottom of the 8th, bases loaded, and they still didn't get a run.))

[Hannah Kerela]

Gabriel smiled at Cecilia's reaction. She had that effect on people, she knew: she looked much less regal and much more dangerous as a human. She approached Cecilia, placing a hand on the girl's back. "You look tired," she commented. "You need to feed off of someone."

She smiled to herself when the girl jumped at the touch. "O-oh, I couldn't..."

"You can, especially since you need to." She knew the risks, naturally, but something about the girl made her soft. She was standing just behind and to the left of Cecilia, her hand on Cecilia's right shoulder. She bent, pressing her lips to the girl's cheek. "I know what I'm getting into, Cecilia."

She smirked inwardly when she felt the girl stiffen. So what if she wasn't as wholesome as her name sounded? It was a very human fault to have.

[Hannah Kerela]

Cecilia blushed at the kiss, looking sideways over her shoulder at Gabriel. "What...?"

"Go ahead."

Cecilia blushed harder, but turned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Cecilia hesitated, then nodded, reaching forward and touching the taller woman's temple lightly, closing her eyes. The effect was immediate - a rush of emotions and thoughts and memories, images and sounds from Gabriel's past, overwhelming and flooding her body and mind with energy. She focused, closing the flow down to just the memories and emotions she could use, holding the connection for a few moments before withdrawing her hand. She could feel the difference that manifested physically, the renewed light in her eyes, the faint flush in her cheeks.

"Thank you," she whispered.

[Hannah Kerela]

Gabriel smiled, genuinely. "It was my pleasure." She reached forward, wrapping an arm around Cecilia languidly. "So, our first course of business might ought to be working to find others like us. See what we have in common, other than nearly dying."

Cecilia nodded stiffly. "Y-yeah... Yeah."

"Then, I'd suggest we work with these other people to find a way to get rid of it. Try everything we can think of, methodically."

"R-right... Right," Cecilia said. She closed her eyes, and Gabriel knew she was steeling herself to speak.

[Hannah Kerela]

She was wrong, though. Cecilia's muscles stiffened, locked in tense places, as she refused to open her eyes. It's not true, there's nothing there. Nothing there, she thought helplessly, not believing herself but thinking it all the same.

There was, most assuredly, not a shadow in the corner of the room. And it was, most assuredly, not talking to her.

Except that it was.

Careful, Cecilia. She'll realize soon how worthless you are... it was saying, screaming, so loud that she couldn't help but hear and listen and believe. She opened her eyes a sliver, the shadow shifting shape menacingly. Kill her now, before she kills you. It might help you; go on, do it. Do it! Do it!

She bit her lip tightly. "...No..."

Gabriel's grip on her shoulder tightened. "Cecilia?" There was genuine concern there - it sounded concerned, at least, but she couldn't be sure, not really - and she leaned into the touch.

Kill her!

She dug her nails into her palms, sharply. It wasn't real, it wasn't, but it was, and it wouldn't stop unless she listened, unless she did whatever it wanted her to do--

[Hannah Kerela]

--Gabriel pushed herself into Cecilia's mind, her hands having found their way to the girl's temples. Let me see through your eyes, she instructed. Let me help you. The terror in the girl's mind was worrisome; as fun as she was, Gabriel had no real wish to see her hurt.

Cecilia relaxed the guards on her mind reluctantly, and Gabriel was bombarded with false sensory information. Shadows, twisting images, all around, but one in particular seemed the focal point of the delusion, and voices, a chorus of them, twisting and harmonizing as they all screamed the same thing at the innocent girl, telling her how worthless she was and how Gabriel would turn on her if she didn't turn on Gabriel first.

It's not true, Gabriel assured her. Look in my mind, tell me what you see.

...You won't hurt me, Cecilia realized.

The sensations dulled, and Cecilia's body relaxed. Gabriel withdrew, taking in the girl's surprised stare. "Yeah, I consume thoughts, too."

[Hannah Kerela]

"Schizophrenia, huh?"

Cecilia flushed with embarrassment, staring hard at the candles. "I... It's a side-effect of being away from the others. I'm not meant to be individualized like this, I should be part of a group."

"So go back."

"I can't." Cecilia's voice broke slightly, and she wrapped her arms around herself. "They've adapted to live without me. I would be an intruder to them now." She was shaking slightly, the despair overwhelming her. This was the first time she'd spoken about it to anyone else. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

She wanted her family. She wanted her group, the others she was supposed to be with. But what she wanted, most, was Mikael. The man who had saved her life. She wanted to demand to know what had happened to her, why she was the way she was now. And she wanted someone to lean on. But all of these things were childish, she knew - the world was not going to conform to her desires, as much as she wished otherwise.

[Hannah Kerela]

Gabriel walked forward, wrapping both arms around Cecilia. "I'm sorry," she said, gently, genuinely. "I wish I could help you." She pulled the girl against her chest. "I could be small and cuddly again?" she suggested.

"N-no..." the girl said, softly. "Just... don't let go."

"I don't intend to," Gabriel assured her. And, shockingly, she meant it. She didn't intend to let Cecilia go, not just physically, but emotionally. They needed one another. That much was certain.