He was not so delusional.

"You should be." He said flatly, in response to her brave words. Yes, but oh he had heard it all before. People were never so much bold as they said- He was trained to be skeptical and not to trust.
But if that were the case, why would he have such a dream? Surely he wouldn't have been punished to such an extent. To be shown kindness and gentleness like this, only to have it taken away in the blink of an eye... Oh, how painful. How utterly deceiving, how devastating it would be.
He shook himself out of his reverie and raked an impatient hand through his hair. His wounds had faded, clothes free of his blood and there were no signs of his earlier fight with his father. Such was his dreamscape- He would feel no pain.

Oh, the utter joys of that. One of the few benefits of dreaming.
His dreamscape was nothing if not unpredictable, and he hadn't trusted on him being able to heal like before. It was a good thing he did, though.. It would seriously suck to die in his dream, more so by freakin' blood loss. What a pussy way to pass on.

".... One day, Princess," He stepped toward her, his eyes blazing. "One day, you will watch me while I hunt. You will see me stabbing, clawing, tearing people apart.. and only then will you realize how wrong you are now." He narrowed his eyes, though his teeth were gritted from effort to refrain from taking her hand.
'I don't even know her.'
No, he didn't.. but he could.
What could she give him?
Everything she knew. Everything he didn't have. And everything he wanted.
A chance.
Just one.
Dear God, how he yearned for it. He hated himself and everything he stood for, the side his blood had picked to fight for.

What could he offer her?
Pain and his own burdens. Danger, too much of it.
Eternal suffering...
A curse.
'Oh, HELL no.' He wouldn't do that to anyone. Not again, and least of all... an innocent like her.
He watched as she shrugged off his jacket and left it on the ground. It had been huge on her- encasing her thin and petite form like an over-sized hoodie instead of the way it fitted him snugly. He wondered how she had been able to look so good in it.

Shit, he was losing it.

He'd thought women sexy and hot and all that nonsense, Hades knew there were Hounds aplenty back  in Tartarus that wanted him for his name. And hell, when Hounds were in heat, it was almost scary. His brothers had a field day, sleeping with 3 or 4 women a day, even. He refrained. He didn't like the idea of having sex just for the heck of it. It wasn't right.
If people asked him, he had rabies or parvo and they'd roll their eyes, leaving him the hell alone.
Picking up his jacket, he watched as she descended the stairs and his eyes met hers as she sent one of her feathers back to him. At the same time, he watched as a shimmer erupted from the river, and it froze over. He frowned and narrowed his eyes, and then they widened as he saw his father's self-righteous sneer and glowing red eyes.

"Surprise, son."
Densel howled with fury as his father cracked through the mirrored lake, standing up and lunging for Aurelia. He jumped down to where she was and reached for her as his father did, his eyes indignant with protectiveness. There was a matching fury in his father's eyes, and he knew that he would take her.
He would kill her.
"Damn, it's ironic that it's only now you would refer to me as your son." He growled angrily, and he turned to Aurelia as he pushed his father back. "God damn it, Siren, this isn't YOUR dream!" He chastised in fear for HER life. "You can't alter ALL dream sequences, and even if you could, the impossible ALWAYS lurks. DAMN IT!" He snarled as his father gave him a harsh left hook.

In her teens, Aurelia had never really cared for anyone as a possible lover. Yes, she read all about it from the mangas and books she swallowed in, but it was just a dream. Beside, her father had quite a close eye on the youngest offspring.

The energies and emotions that brew through her whole body now was something new. Yet, whom did she fool? It didn't last anyhow. It was in a dream, for goddess sake!

Though, the meeting of these two placed a mark in her heart, and she didn't understand then, it changed her. It gave her hope to move on with such a strength, boiling over from inside of her.

Yes, she had heard of them. Even been warned about them, but she solely hoped and thought that in every being, light or dark, it didn't matter, was something good. Every soul was yin and yang in the brightest meaning. No one was never entirely one energy, there was always the opposite light in them.

"I know whom you are," she finally spoke, licking her dry lips.
"And I don't really care. It is still my decision, I believe. I am not," Aurelia hummed softly, making the choice here and now, no matter how it ended up being, and then continued after a pause of thought, "I am not afraid of you, Densel."

The young girl only smirked over his fact about hunting someone. Hopefully he never hunted her. It really would have been a shame. Quite a shame. Reila had no idea, if she would ever fight back. There was a strong chance that she chose to stand on one point and be devoured by these nightmares, by this man. With no sound... With the eery silence inside of her.

He denied her simple wish. She sighed and pulled herself free from him. Stairs appeared under her feet as she let the jacket slide off to pool around her thin ankles.

"Then I have nothing to offer you."

Aurelia turned and started to move downstairs to the ground. There appeared a river, roaming in its course of path slowly, carrying many different, empty, boats. She finally turned on the last stair and pulled one of the newest wing feathers out from her growing wings, and blew it up to the tree, towards Densel.
He had spoken so cold, yet it didn't move her. She still hoped, pretending that it was okay. That it really was okay, even though something shattered into little pieces inside of her, when his final words became to echo in her mind.

"I just wanted you to hold my hand. I wouldn't take you anywhere. Just here. Just now."

She hoped for him to come to her again.



"Then what are you if you are not an angel?"

Densel looked at her for a long time, a silence between them as he thought about the question.
Angel?
He?

How could anyone think so ludicrously of him? He was a Hellhound, and not only that.. He was a Shadow Hound. To him and no doubt to all the packs of the other 27 races in Tartarus and Hellion, his kind was not only the most lethal, but the most cruel.
Taeros. The very mention of his name was enough to bring most to their senses. Densel remembered walking the streets with women taking their children and literally fleeing. Men spat at him as though they were fearless, but a glance in their direction was all it took to make them leave.

She called him an angel.
It was so foolish.
So innocent.
So kind.

He waited till she spoke again the second time to answer the question she had asked before. No doubt had he delayed, she would have expected him not to answer.
"I'm a Hound, Princess." He said, wondering if she would seriously request he let her go at that. "Taeros didn't tell you anything? Seriously?" He lowered his eyes and muttered under his breath. "If I decide ever to hunt someone, I make Hannibal Lector look like a baby."

As he draped his jacket around her, he realized another truth- Never before had he had the chance to touch a lady like this. By human years, he appeared in his early twenties. But because he had been brought up by his pack, they had given him their trademark Taeros piercing, which even in his dreams haunted him with a sharp glimmer on his ear. Because of it, no decent women had ever come to him.
Assassins, yes.
Hunters, yes.
Pack negotiators, hell yes.
Whores, aplenty.
But women like Relia? Petite and gentle Relia, innocence abundant?
Hell NO.
He looked at her hand and almost took it in his absence of mind.

He shook himself internally.
"No, Princess." He said, and he licked the back of his teeth with his tongue, feeling the shapeliness of his canines. "I cannot go anywhere with you." He had to stand. He hadn't wanted to give himself such delusions.
For a moment there, it had seemed like there was a chance, a faint possibility..
No.
He would wake up and this would all be over. He couldn't risk anything. Not even the unknown. He was reckless and known to take risks, but not to such an alarming extent. He wouldn't open himself to her. He couldn't.
"I can't." He said to her. The words were final, they were firm and stern.

They were cold as hell and he felt it in his own bones.

"Who is he?"
She found herself thinking.
"What is he?"

Princess. He called her a princess, even though she was none. A mere offspring of a sirens, whom had lost her voice and there was no chance to get it back. A shame to the whole stem, keeping the growth in slow pace.

She had risen her eyes to Densel's face and her voice murmured softly with a question :: "Then what are you if you are not an angel?"

Oh what an innocent mind she had, though not naive. Reila craved for the knowledge that was hidden under every foliage of every tree; that was held by every lover's hand; that was part of every world's end. It was never dreadful, never held any secrets on her path that she chose to walk.

"It is okay," she replied as an answer to Densel's statement of her trying not to speak. "I don't mind speaking here."

Here.
Not outside of these realms.

A rustle of cloth echoed into her ears, as Densel lifted the jacket around her fragile figure. It felt like he had never been so kind to anyone before, then why her? Why he acted so carefully and mercifully around her?

"Take my hand," she whispered. "Take my hand, Densel."

It was the only wish she had at the moment. Her body started to regain slowly, the blood stopped little by little, though it still had stained the dark color of the man's possession.

"Please."

Densel felt her hand sliding away from his face, and had the absurd thought of holding her hand. Instead, his steadied her figure in his arms with a hand on her shoulder, his red eyes dark with curiosity.

His father was gone.

What was this girl?

He pulled her against him, and watched as a soft leaf of ivory fluff fell against her hair. Despite its spiritual hue, Densel could not even compare it to her hair, which was a soft curtain of silk that he admired fully.
By Gods, she was exquisite.
Lifting a hand, he brushed it away from her hair, and listened to her melodic voice. It was soft as a whisper, but he was a Hound- he could hear anything from thunderclaps miles and miles away to an enemy hoping to evade him.

"I'm not an angel, Princess, period." He said hollowly, in an emotionless tone. "That could not possibly be any further from the truth." He confessed, and he watched as her own hand trailed close to her full lips. After a moment of hesitation, he noticed her immense blood loss was making her paler than any being should be.
"You shouldn't speak, Princess." He added, while he tore his thin jacket off to cover her. He didn't know if she could be cold in his dream, but he didn't want to take chances.

He paused at that thought.
He had sounded like a complete lunatic.

He heard her speak once again, her melodic, soft voice interceding his thoughts and flooding his mind. Aurelia. Such a gentle, beautiful name. He didn't reply to her refuting his calling her Princess. He didn't feel he had done wrong to do so. He felt her insignificant weight pressing against him and he instinctively replied.
"Densel.. I'm Densel Haveras Taeros." He said quickly, and immediately cursed himself internally. God damn, what had he been thinking? Not just his first name... but his full one? Taeros was  a revered name- The Pack of Shadow Hounds directly in Hades' service. How could he have possibly been so absentminded and more than that, stupid?

He didn't know. Barely anyone knew why Aurelia loved to spend more time asleep than awake. She was able to control the dream sequence, which also meant that it wasn't hard for her to enter other people's dreams, nightmares or anything else. She astral projected herself into many different worlds, and preferred to live in these more than in real world.

Reila never really got along with other kids around the neighborhood. At the age of seven, she told a boy that his mother is going to be hit by a car and fall into a coma; only wanting to help. It happened two weeks later and she was called a 'witch', and many other rather sad names. This accident made her spend more time indoors than outside. Other children didn't want her in their games, and she was even being pushed roughly aside, causing her body to bruise.
When the siblings and parents asked about the cause, she lied that she had fallen or hit herself against the furniture. Aurelia was clumsy, so she made her usual angelic face and they fell for it. Being weak as she was, she didn't want to cause more problems for them as she already did.

It felt comforting to be against the man's chest. She pressed her cheek and ear against it, and listened the beating of his heart. He spoke, with that velvet soft voice of his, the same as the "Hey" had been.

Her hand slid off, against his chest and rather near to her own lips. He was real, as real as someone can be in a dreamland.


"I don't care if you are an angel of darkness, but you are one nonetheless."
She spoke, with a weak voice. The loss of the blood made her weak. Aurelia smiled, again. Feeling him, hearing him made her happy.

"My name is not Princess. I am Aurelius Camelia Florea. Aurelia or Reila short."

Was it stupid act to tell her name, or not? She didn't know, but she did know that it was right thing to do. Dangerous, yes. Bold, yes. Fearful, no.

He leaned in and inhaled the scent of the white liquid that seeped from her wings. Definitely blood. Which was all good, except only specific species had white blood, and NONE of them were creatures of Tartarus like him. All of them were creatures that dwell in light. He didn't know the height from which she fell, but judging from the amount of blood pouring from her body, he had the strong suspicion that she shouldn't be alive.
What the hell- This was a dream. HIS dream. Where did the girl come from in the first place? He cradled her and brought her in his arms to a tree, where he sat against the trunk, her petite figure resting against his torso as he shifted her into a sitting position.

'Brilliant.' He thought sarcastically. 'Now what?'

He was about to try and wake her once again before her eyelids fluttered. He watched, mesmerized as long lashes lifted to reveal the most azure of blues. Her silvery locks fell about her in the most attractive manner, framing her face and trailing down her arms, draping over her shoulders and were so long that they even rested on the ground.

'I want to touch her.'
His hand almost moved. He stopped himself.
'I can't.'
He lifted his arm and his fingers hovered near her ear.
'.. I can. If I want to.'
He wanted to.
Densel lifted a lock of her hair, surprised by the weightlessness of it, and tucked it behind her ear. In the most careless of ways, his knuckle brushed her cheek and his eyes widened at the softness of her skin. At the warmth of it.

"I'm not an angel, Princess." He said, his voice still hoarse from his father's assault. He stopped speaking when her hand rested on his face. It shocked him how he could feel every finger on his face, each digit pressed softly against his skin. The vividness of her touch.
He looked at her broken wings and shut his eyes to distract himself from looking at her. "Far from it." He said.

Those fingers were twitching. Catching for the unknown person in her dreams, in his dreams. Though, Reila didn't see anything. There was only darkness, covering her lids. A tear of crimson fell on her white eyelashes, staying there for a moment that seemed like an eternity.

"Wake up, Aurelius."

A voice of her soul. Calling. Tempting.

"Don't let them get you, child. Don't let them win."

The body was pulled up, and she heard someone speak. A soft murmur of a dark winged creature. It was beautiful. It took her breath. It took her breath and released her heart.

The ruins of her wings twitched, as the fingers stopped. A sin was about to be committed. A sin that was going to stay.

"Hey."

It kept echoing in her mind and thoughts. Destiny, indeed, had a strange ways of changing its course. Dither of eyelids, a glimpse of blueness. She rose her hand and it danced over the man's chest.

"Are you an angel?"

A simple question. Strange. Aurelia really meant it.

The fingers finally rested over the corner of his lips, adorned by blood. She closed her eyes again, and then a smile was carved on those pale lips.

"You're worthless."
Densel struggled against his father's attacks. He fell to his knees, arms pulled behind him in an effortless bind cast by his father's conjured image of a nightmare.
Fear consumed him. This nightmare knew exactly what he hated. If there was one thing in the world Densel couldn't stand, it was being restrained. He had been abused, tortured, and by his own pack no less. He was always angry, but eventually fear and shame overwhelmed him to a point where he couldn't breathe.
Not till he was free again.

A nightmare.
Yes.. Nothing more than a nightmare.
But still; why was he so powerless? Why was he so defenseless? Even in his own state of mind, his own dreams- Why could he not fight back? Not even move?
Why was he so...
Worthless.
'I will NOT beg for mercy!'

"You disgust me." His father sneered, and Densel was floored. He coughed as his father approached him, blackened splatters of his blood on the cold dusty ground. "You cannot possibly be my son. A pleb like you doesn't even deserve death." He growled, and kicked Densel over.
His body moved as though weightless.
Powerless. He parted his lips. "Don't-" He began.
His father stamped across his throat and Densel felt his neck almost breaking from the force his father used to stamp on it. "You're not even worthy to talk to me, mongrel." He snarled, and then he dipped his body closer, speaking in a feral whisper. "Blood doesn't make my family- Power does. You are weak... and absolutely pathetic!" His father increased the pressure on Densel's throat. He coughed desperately as his body fought for release from the pain.

"You're not my fucking son."

Against his will, Densel felt his father's words so deeply that he knew, no matter what, he would always strive to earn his father's approval. And he would always fail.
Always.
"Pathetic."
Densel stiffened for whatever abuse his father was going to perform.


Suddenly, his father retreated, his strong form leaping backwards as a thin, frail figure fell in between them. Densel clutched his throat and took the opportunity of the interruption to get up, but as he approached, his father's figure dissolved into shadows that faded away into the bleak background that was his dreamscape.
He stood up, stumbling momentarily and wiping the blood from the corner of his lips. He didn't know how long he had been engaged in the one-sided battle with his father, but it had been long enough to deplete all of the strength he had.

He collapsed across the girl in his evident struggle against his pain, barely managing to stretch his arms out far enough to prevent his muscled weight from crushing her. He put one hand next to her shoulder and faced her. "Hey." He said softly. His blood streamed down his arm, his hair matted with crimson, and yet he touched her shoulder with a trembling hand. It was gentle and almost questioning.
He took a moment, glaring at his hand before he forcefully made it still. After he was sure he was alright and not about to faint or something equally as... well, womanly, Densel picked her up and carefully cradled her against his knee so that he could take a look at her wings. Her hair fell against his hands, streaming between his fingers like silk.

The gesture made him pause.
Who was this little girl?

But before she could jump into the air, spread those majestic white feathered wings and rise to play with the winds; twirl along with the bevy of singing birds and enjoy the shimmering light on her skin, without worry that it would burn her and make her suffer in great ache...

Before she could rise from the white soil, dark hands with bony fingers slid over her wrists and ankles, brushing over her airy body, making it freeze. Her lips were parted, just to call out in this never-ending space. Maybe there was someone to hear her. Maybe someone dared to approach and release her from these shadows, that came as they wished, and cared for her soul.

Instead of collapsing, she found the strength. They were ripping her dress. Biting down to the spine, eating every feather with their greedy mouths, until there was nothing left aside from the bare eternal flesh of a siren and stumps of bleeding wings.

A nightmare had caught her.

A scream without a voice escaped, as did the unearthly being, by fighting forward. The dream sequence continued in slow motion as Aurelia thrust on and on, her body falling over the cliff. They tried to catch her shadow, but were left behind by the power of light that slipped away from her core. They howled. They lost the game. They crawled behind her and lingered for a while on the edge, their eyes following the falling of a star.

She fell towards the abyss, like a seed of the Heavens. The halo shone around her shell, making the darkness flee. Those very long strands of albino hair floated around her like a pillow of grace; though it wasn't enough to stop her. 

"Whom had attacked my dream sequence?" She wandered, her eyes open wide.

Voices.

Beneath.

In this freezing darkness.

Two souls.

Like a candle, hope started to flicker in her night.

"Who?"

Her body landed between two men, hitting the ground with a chime. Those white, almost transparent strands of snow white hair covered her awfully pale skin. She was still breathing, and was unable to wake up in the real time. In the real world.

These small and fragile fingers moved, just enough to let the men know that she was alive. Though, these baby blue eyes remained closed. The nightmares, they still howled, screaming and cursing about their loss. Hesistant to go down, to follow, but something held them back.

White blood streamed out from the ruins of her wings. The body gleamed, the body of the creature of the light. On this moment the sky in the reality kept being clear, and the birds still sang their sweet melodies, knowing nothing about the disturbances. The back of the girl's body bled...

'As always.'
When Densel next opened his eyes, he was welcome, once again, to his dream, in fact, his only dream for the past 2 years. In it, resided a sole standing Ebony Tower in a land of white- He liked to imagine it represented his isolationist being, his need for independence. For miles around it, trees bled white leaves that fell to the ground in complete silence. There was no noise- not here. No rustling of leaves, no whispers amongst the trees, nothing.
This wasn't God damn Narnia.

There wasn't even a breeze. The only thing Densel knew was that there were shadows...
And they stretched long.

He stuck his hands in his pockets. Here, he was never injured, he was never in pain. There was nothing. It was the only reason why he found such pleasure in dreaming...
And yet such pain in knowing that it would all be gone when he awoke.

He scoffed internally. He should be glad he was alive in the first place, not reaching out for the impossible. He'd already decided on not letting anyone have the pleasure of seeing him down- after all, he had too many people to piss off. He would never go down without a fight.
He walked along the edged of an ebony stream, leaning over it. Instead of his own reflection, he saw his father. Paralyzed, he watched as his father came closer, closer...

And with his father's enraged yell, Densel leaped back, his heart thundering furiously. His eyes widened in horror as his father manifested before him, dripping with venom and hatred for him.
His father growled in a feral manner at his shocked expression.
"Oh you utter fool- I did hope that you were smart enough to know you'd never escape me."
His eyes were a blazing, bloodthirsty red as he approached Densel.


"I knew hoping for you was a waste of time."

Aurelius took a seat beside the well, not really having anything to wish for. There was nothing she could want, or the child already had it. Her parents and siblings cherished her, embracing her rising beauty. As being the youngest offspring of the old Sirens families, she would have been a shame for this generation, but somehow... just somehow she was lucky.

Lucky. A word that is somehow ironic. Indeed, she missed her voice, and the ability to sing, but... it was far more beautiful to use it in her favorite place :: The Landscapes of Dreams. Main talent of hers, and in there... she is free.

Small fingers caressed the tips of the blossoms beside her. The sixteen-year-old sighed heavily and leaned her head against the bricks behind her back, those two baby blue eyes trailing the skyline.

"I wish, I wish, sang the bird."

It was one of her stories that she liked to speak of, and then wandered about how she missed the other Siren, whom Aurelia visited in Dreams from time to time from very early age.

"Why?"

She thought, little by little closing those orbs of hers and falling asleep. This was the time, when Aurelia hadn't committed her sin, not just yet.

+ + +

The girl found herself standing on the edge of a cliff, spreading those wide wings that had grown and then looked down into the dark abyss. There was no distance for her, but there was a feeling that was unknown and longing.

Location - the Recesses of Tartarus


"Get in there, you fool." A guard tugged on Densel's hair, his fingers weaving into the unkempt locks of the shadow Hound's head. "You're not worth the very air you breathe." He spat, narrowing his eyes and shutting the gate as soon as Densel hit the stone floor, cold with time and bloodied by prisoners before him.
Densel's collar lit up with an evil red glow, showing he was contained.To be sent here by his own father to be with the very prisoners he's put here... Ahh, such a sweet loving pa pa.

A rusted bolt slid into place, and Densel lifted himself off the floor. It was all he could do to piss them off, really; the last thing he wanted to do was to lie on the ground and to give them the satisfaction of dying and calling him a kicked pup.
"Screw this shit.." He growled, and the guard smirked at him.
"Love you too, boy." He sneered.
Densel scoffed. "Yeah, like a plague in your privates." He replied crudely, and he leaned against a wall, threading his fingers through the icy rails. The guard, annoyed by his 'insolence,' slammed his steel baton against the gate, breaking two of Densel's knuckles and causing a ruckus as 14 or so other inmates awoke. Densel withdrew his hand instinctively and cradled it, glaring angrily.

He growled at the sound of the guard laughing loudly, and leaving.
Soon, the noise of rowdy inmates subsided.

Everyday, he wondered how he survived the cruelty of Hound life. As the youngest son, he was neither loved nor doted upon like how Human parents would treat their youngest- No. Here, it was different; the younger you were, the likelier you were to screw up. You ended up being beaten and trashed for no reason other than the fact your brothers and parents became bloodthirsty.
And don't even ask about the females of the clan. They were either chosen for pup-bearing or killed before they reached 10 years of age.
Personally speaking, after seeing his younger sister being chosen for the former, Densel knew that the latter was a better fate of the two. Every time he watched her being dragged off by a member of their pack, he felt a surge of bitter anger, but he was as powerless to protect her as she was to protect him.

He shut his eyes and sank down onto the ground quietly, his eyes shut tight as he struggled to even breathe. All he'd wanted was an hour of undisturbed rest. 'And as always, Icarus flew too close to the sun..' He chided himself internally as he looked out of the window, eventually succumbing to uninvited slumber.

The wind breezed softly against the treetops, making them swing in harmonious dance. Summer-blue skies shone through the leafage, upon the eyes of a child, whom was standing on that meadow, her wings clipping once and again after every short moment.

"I wish, I wish..."

A faint murmur of the voice, barely reaching to the mouth of the wishing well. Rusty red bricks lined up in perfect line, circle after a circle. A step. Closer. Closer. Fresh grass tainted her bare feet, asking questions, for what she had no answers to. 

Blonde hair, that became icy blue-white, when the shadows crossed her fragile figure, brushed against her bare back. She was wearing a white summer dress, which left her shoulders, half of the chest, slim legs and back to be seen by any kind of eye out there. 

"I wish, I wish..."

Still, the same voice, struggling to speak louder. Her parents had always said not to pressure it, her uncle tried to make her sing, but she remained silent around people, like there was an illness in her. Like she was with no voice at all.