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"Thank you?" Her voice was still irate, although now she was also incredulous. If he had expected a rational, appreciative gesture he was sorely mistaken. Kane's pride was ever-present and now it was slightly injured. Besides being horrified for aforementioned reasons at ridding herself of the the curse, she felt a tiny bit insulted. It was as if he thought her incapable of getting it fixed herself- and while she hadn't gone out of her way to find a solution, she was confident she could if she desired it. All his good intentions were ignored in indignation.

"What are you doing? I don't need it fixed. I don't want it fixed. It's better this way!" Obviously, that warning her about holding her temper was not going to be heeded- whether it was from an inability to stifle it or just her ignoring the suggestion. "What makes you think it's a good idea to get rid of it? I'm not going to bloody die from it!" Kane knew why she was being so hysterical, but she didn't know a good way to retain any sort of dignity and explain it to him. It was simply easier to present herself as irrational and rude. It worked in the past.

She yanked herself out of his grasp, figuring she looked like an illogical, emotional lunatic. By all appearances she had the 'I'm a walking train wreck' thing down- so fascinating to watch in its horrific absurdity it was hard to tear the eyes away. It was when she wrenched away she spotted the gouge in his shoulder, still largely unhealed. While she had been able to cauterize it, no doubt it was about as pleasant as her injury to bear. She pointed at him accusingly. "Shouldn't you be worrying about your own injuries instead of mine anyway? Why are you calling in someone to heal me and not you?" It certainly wasn't because he was falling for her. He had apologized for the kiss after all.

It was amazing how well Kane could hold on to things and use inner dialogue to keep herself provoked and bitter. Even so, she sighed in exasperation and the extended finger flipped upwards along with her other digits, making an extended palm. An issuance of midnight ribbons and wisps curled out of her hand, twisting through the air in a seductive dance towards the wound. Half made it to the indented flesh without error, but the others suddenly burst into light before impact, dazzling with their golden glow. The sound of the gentle tinkling of bells was on the air.

"Gods damn it!" she swore, knowing instantly both the cause and the effect it'd have on the Fallen. It was all her fault and all his fault. She didn't think she'd ascend higher, but this shaky grasp on her magic wasn't good for either of them. She'd keep the truth of it hidden from him as long as she could.

If Kane had bothered to count the number of times she felt outright offended by the angel's demeanor, words, or Gabriel's subsequent response she would have come up with the number six. It was somewhat amazing that it had been accomplished in such a short period of time: it was if this being knew exactly what to say and how to act to annoy her best. It was out of the last shred of reason she had after her anger flared that she was able to keep herself from trying to throttle him on principle. Kane knew that he was Gabriel's (possibly only) friend and she begrudgingly cared for the Fallen and she was also aware that it would almost certainly end up poorly for her. Although Kane did believe in self-righteous suicide, she wasn't about to give this p***k the honor.

The sight of him had initially made her cheeks redden. While both men might assume, wrongly, it was because she found the celestial being in and of himself attractive, it was not quite so simple. In fact, it was the notion that this is what the Fallen at her side had once appeared as, the subsequent brief imagining, and the memory of him when he had not fully descended. Dazriel's personality, apparent just with a glance, negated all the physical grace and grandeur he held in her eyes. The fleeting, ill-hidden reaction was scorned mentally once it was noticed and the 'trivial' emotions were chased out of her heart and mind quickly while the color lingered a moment behind.

Swarming emotions swelled in the depths of her soul. Agitation at tone and haughty attitude that seemed no different than those they had slaughtered mercilessly, rage at being referred to as a shrew, an ugly nameless feeling that flared at being called 'pretty, I suppose.' It coalesced, urged on as she noticed that he was ignoring her existence with those placid blue orbs. Perhaps the dark tide would not have festered into action, making the curse seem momentarily dim, had Gabriel not made the small mistake of referring to the momentary bane of her existence as a 'mercenary of justice.' Not only did the dark angel find it completely unimaginable that an angel of his realm could truly be just, much less one so condescending, but she also loathed that in a way they had just been compared. Kane was obviously a mercenary with a conscience; one that had pulled her into Gabriel's affair screaming for justice.

It was almost palpable. The swirl of light and dark that dwelled in relative harmony was thrown asunder. Where shortly before the arrival glittering flashes had pushed their way past the barricade of black, now the tsunami of resentment mercilessly engulfed what ground they had covered. "I told you I didn't want it healed." Her voice was coldly scathing and directed at Dazriel even though it was clear he was not the person to whom she was speaking. It was a blatant distrust that kept her gaze on this so-called friend. Kane's disposition seemed to have reverted, despite the presence that soothed her previously, to one from before this grand adventure. She was to the mentality of the demonic mercenary, fleeing from her own kind as she hunted them. Were she conscious of the subtle effect Gabriel had gradually had on her over a mere day and a half, she would have studied these minutes intently, observing the stark juxtaposition of personalities.

"This apparent shrew," she started, clearly blaming Gabriel for not denying the accusations, "will excuse herself so you and your mercenary of justice can reminisce." Stepping backward, apparently holding Gabriel accountable for all Dazriel had said, she let an issuance of twisting midnight dance off her limbs. It was as quick as it was graceful, putting a wall of what could only be described as negativity, hatred, and everything vile between herself and the other feathered entities. Kane did not notice that as the structure had, in a flash, erected, that a tiny portion had glided to the Fallen, as if pulled by a magnet. The all but sentient wisp settled into the wound, soothing it and repairing the damage earlier made.

Clearly, this was not going as intended.

Kane had expected the angel to counter the barrier. It was more a sign of frustration and anger than a serious attempt to defend herself. As much as she detested the being before her, she knew before casting any magic that he would not have been called had Gabriel not trusted him. The fact that the Fallen's head was not rolling within moments of Dazriel's arrival was sign enough that he was some manner of loyal comrade. That did not mean that she had to play along. The dark angel had hoped that it might dissuade him from the task or encourage him to focus his attentions on his friend; better yet, Gabriel could have seen such a construction and been convinced to cease this operation.

Instead, she was only given more insults to her ego.

A reply was on her lips and tongue when she was 'handled.' She had been very tempted to reply to a great many things: Gabriel's concern and plea, the casual comment on her magic and inner conflict, even the status of her being. The rough movements left her somewhat breathless as the stitches pulled slightly at their seams with her weightlessness and the wound throbbed. Had she not been so focused on gritting her teeth and ignoring the jolts of pain that shot through her torso, she might have almost appreciated Gabriel's feeble attempt at making Dazriel act a little more mercifully. Being bound, although demeaning and worthy of her hatred, made her body blissfully still. A slow jagged breath was let out once she was certain that all was intact.

"I am liable to what? Die? Make your dear friend's job easier? Do you think I had not contemplated that would be the end product of my parley with the first angel I encountered? I chose to have it this way. As Dazriel says, I'm a demon. It would have been best if you had actually stayed the hell away after that ingenious lie and not bothered yourself with believing in foolish things like-"

As the magic permeated the wound, it tried to withdraw more quickly into her, attempting to hide, ironically, in the womb that would have naturally gifted life. There was no doubt on such close inspection that exact size and shape of aforementioned curse was intentional. Its jagged line across the belly was deceptive, for it cut through cleanly as if it were a malicious c-section with murderous afterthought. Had there been doubt about what she had bluffed to the others of his kind, it was now apparent: she was barren and due entirely to this demonic festering. Indeed, whoever had crafted this had spent much time and energy in its creation. It was by no small miracle that it was survived the first time and even with all of Gabriel's effort, a second time would be dubious at best. Were either of them to take advantage of such a weakness, the woman would be dead within an hour, perhaps half an hour and helpless all the while. Should that time be survived with care and dedication, death would linger, circling eagerly waiting for the slightest adverse sign to swallow her soul. Gabriel was quite right when he had ascertained that in and of itself it served no purpose other than to hinder.

And as light sank in, chasing the dark into the depths of her person, the crafter's mark was noticed too late. It was subtle, the trace of energy hidden carefully beneath the much more overpowering curse. A signature, an alarm, a calling to he who had designed it. As soon as it was exposed it was gone, the tiny wisp reeled back to its owner like a faithful servant. Small, softly glowing red demonic characters spelling out Mine appeared briefly above the slowly disappearing injury. Although she was completely unaware, Kane had been marked not once but twice, and while she would soon bear neither, the source would be all too aware.

Then, of course, there was the latent response of her nature. As that which would purify seeped into her flesh, the balance was set askew once more. Out of the pitch black murky tar, small bits of dazzling light trickled, coaxed into making an appearance. The illusion of black hair and brown eyes hastily dropped and Kane tried to focus on the what Dazriel rightly assumed she was strained with. For but a moment, one blink of an eye, there was a flash of white and that platinum hair was aglow, eyes twinkling, and had the feathers been showing they would have splashed snow white. For that singular stitch in time she radiated, demurely, as if she were truly an angel that the prophecy rumored her capable of being. The retaliation was a glimpse of the other side- slick, twisted midnight corns curling out of her temples and over her ears, skin the color of ash and fire, and had the wings been visible, a relapse to leather. Both were flickers, nothing more than a reaction to a struggle between the forces of Dazriel and Malik and their sources.

It was excruciating, but it would be over soon. It would be over, and she could crawl to her bed and sleep, pretend it was all but a nightmare. She could drown her sorrows in a large jug of milk and wish the world away. The edges pulled inward, the sickly scar retreating as it was covered by a smooth, glistening light tan. One could only hope she'd sleep after this: if not, she would certainly also have something to say about how exposed she was to this less than congenial companion.

Kane frowned, more to herself than the men present initially. After Mercy's death she had come to suspect Malik, but there had never been anything to solidify her speculations. It didn't make sense to her that he would want to end her life when he had gone through all the trouble of wooing her once and getting pregnant. Even if there wasn't that much effort involved on his part considering how easily he lied and deceived, it seemed folly to cast such a curse. What was there to gain? She wasn't any the wiser to his charade when she had been afflicted with it and they could have had more children with their lineage. Isn't that what he wanted?

He was the only one she could think of that would care if such a wound was healed. With it her fertility and strength might be restored, of which he had been so obsessed, and then he was the only one close enough to her to slip in any 'alarm' after the initial spell. Other demons simply wanted her dead or ignored her besides dear Malik. If it was someone who wanted her dead, they would exploit this weakness before it was purified, not want to be notified afterwards.

Why? Why would he want to kill her and then want to know when she was healed? What could he be after this time? Instinctually she felt it must be her ex-lover, although logically it seemed more appealing he set the alarm and someone completely random bestowed the curse.

"Don't be so damned depressing," she grumbled, pulling herself out of thoughts that seemed as endless as the maze of a puzzle confronted. This time the frown was directed at both- and she made sure to keep switching her gaze from one to the other to portray this intention- as she continued to rant. In her own way Kane was trying to be comforting, to say thank you in a backwards way. Although Gabriel was infuriating at times and Dazriel doubly so at all times, she knew that they were trying to help, not hinder. Not wanting to admit or acknowledge the merits of what they did, and at the same time unable to show more warm emotions, she raved like a lunatic. Perhaps they wouldn't understand how the dark angel felt deep down, but she could live with that.

"I'm certain the only brazen demon that would cast such a thing is Malik and I have no intentions of letting Gabriel here even see him if I can help it. That twisted, narcissistic maniac can't really be affected by the darkness anyways, and I'm not about to let that manipulative b*****d drag you down further and make my job even more challenging. I'd worry more about those idiot angels running around with their toy swords. He has more of a distaste for angels than most and will go to any lengths to butcher them. I'll just figure out a way to make sure I'm as tempting to him as I was and...."

Her lids had started to slip down over violet eyes, the amethyst hazing over as lashes glided together. Her lips kept moving as the mind continued on lazily, words creeping out of her mouth in a semi-conscious spill that was uninhibited. ".... I like...." A pause here as her chest heaved in one last breath of being awake. "...chocolate..." came out with the exhale, dashing any hopes that she'd say anything dramatic or even somewhat note-worthy.

The dark angel of battle lay cradled in his arms, her face relaxed. It was in slumber that her facial features contradicted her heritage; there was nothing demonic or evil, only a human, almost angelic rest. Her hair, which could be likened to straw in its poor upkeep, curled around her face and shoulders haphazardly. It was easy to see why her parents had believed that she was a herald of something other than the sins and ill will their kind spread and reveled in; truly in this moment, she was a creature that had risen above her race if only minutely.

Kane was oblivious to the serious conversation that revolved around her physically and metaphorically. Had she known that they were talking about her she would have been slightly irate that she was not just feigning sleep. It was just as well, though, since it was no doubt hard to be completely candid, much less talk about Seras, with her conscious.

For the first few moments she was welcomed by nothingness, a void of thought and imagery. It was comforting and typical; Kane was not prone to dreaming often. When colors started to bleed into her subconscious, seeping into the black and blotting it out, she was not at first alarmed. It was rare, but dreams and nightmares did sometimes find a place in her rest. It would not take long, though, for her to realize that this was not manufactured from her own mind.

Blurs materialized around her. They were echoes of people, trails of color following them as they slowly walked around and through her. Facial features were indistinguishable, but every one of them seemed somehow vaguely familiar. Did she know them? The large crowd obscured most of her vision as they swirled around her, an unassuming and easily forgettable plain setting in the distance. Kane stood there stupidly, dumbstruck by the scene and whatever sort of obtuse meaning there might be behind it.

As wisps of incorporeal hues drifted past, she saw something solid and pearly white over the shoulders and heads in front of her. Recognizing them as the tips of snow white wings, she elbowed and pushed herself past suddenly very dense, unyielding bodies. She gave no pause here; no moment was wasted to consider how apparitions had become so real and firm. Faces swam past her as she made her way towards what she was sure was an angel, maybe one that the knew. Despite how she regarded the ones on this world, it was something sheknew. There was a certain pull she felt, drawing her to the figure that was so very different from the countless regular humans that surrounded her on all sides.

When she reached the angel, she felt the muscles in her mouth fall slack with awe. Immaculate feathered limbs were outstretched, the ivory reflecting all light in the air and letting off a soft, radiant glow. Silver hair cascaded down over wide, strong shoulders and crystalline eyes gazed at her. Everything about the being was beautiful and perfect, the gift of the heavens and everything righteous to the people of the earth. It was not Dazriel that stood before her, but what might have been Gabriel before he was ever turned. The mirage titled its head at her with a soft smile and extended a hand from beneath flowing robes.

Now she hesitated. Kane had never had a dream like this before, one that had felt so... clear. Her imagination had never wandered over what the fallen might have looked like so many centuries before. Although she wasn't entirely fond of what he was, there had been a quiet acceptance. This seemed foreign to her in a way something that coming to her in her sleep should not be. Furrowing her brows she tried to concentrated and force something around her to change. She tried to imagine a rainbow, to make the Gabriel frown, the people to vanish, anything.

Nothing.

A step was taken forward and a hand extended, slipping into the one offered. Kane was no fool: she knew that something else was at play here, but she wasn't sure exactly what or how to escape this fake reality. The only thing that seemed to make sense was to embrace it and hope that it would fade once a certain task was accomplished. The illusion smiled at her, an unnerving plastic smile that reminded her all too much of the angels that the fallen had slaughtered mere hours ago. In a sudden change of heart, she started to pull away. The fake Gabriel tightened his grasp on her hand and straightened his head.

Suddenly twin blemishes appeared on the top joint of the wings, swiftly stretching down to engulf all the feathers. All that was pure was suddenly sickeningly tainted. From her hand a wave of midnight tendrils crept along his wrist and under his robes. A scream caught in her throat as the shimmering metallic hair faded to a dull, lifeless gray. Although the one in front of her said nothing, his look blamed her wordlessly. Why? he seemed to ask silently, achingly, painfully. Why?

No! This was not right! This was not her fault! Now the limbs were turning coal black, the radiance twisted into a foul aura that emanated from every inch of his being. Plumage slowly fell away and was replaced by taut leathery skin pulled between horrifying skeletal frames. The hair was now a haunting shadow, blending into robes likewise turned ebony. Eyes splashed with crimson, the question still poised there. Why? What had she done? Was this really her doing? Was she the source of the corruption that had fed this soul?

"No!" she thought again, although this time she whispered it aloud. The hushed words had barely passed her lips when the ruby lips in front of her twisted into a malicious, sadistic smile. Now that fiery gaze was arrogant and smug. He was gloating. Think onyx horns twisted out of his temples and curled his ears, the pallid skin turning into a rich tan. The bones in his face had subtly moved and rearranged themselves until Malik had formed himself out of Gabriel. How absurdly proud he was of himself to have appeared to her in such a deeply troubling, confusing way. It had garnered her attention and to some extent compliance. The dark angel knew the demon could tell, even in her dreams, that there was some amount of trust and affection for the flickering image that had preceded his.

"You know, he's right." His voice was smooth as silk as he leaned forward, watching her face go from being frozen in bewilderment to one of outrage. Below the surface she felt emotions wax out of control, hatred for what he had done to Mercy boiling over. "It's not really your fault he changed. It's not either of our fault what happened to our daughter. You can't change their hearts. You can't change your own." he whispered, lips gracing her earlobe for just a moment.

This time her attempt to jerk away was successful, her arm flying backward dramatically as he suddenly relented. The ground below her and the shadowy visions of people disappeared, leaving her to free-fall through a dark void. It's just a dream she tried to reassure herself, gaining some courage in that mental reminder. Of course it had all suddenly vanished- it was never there to begin with. Malik was but a fading dot in the distance above her as she collected herself. None of it was real.... none of it was real...

As Kane slipped into a mindless, restful sleep the shadows around the room pulled towards the fireplace, twisting and coalescing into a tall pillar. Behind the shadowy magic flames lit, casting a soft glow over the room. Despite the demon arriving, the hearth made the small abode gain a certain warmth. Flickers of light cast a gentle feel to all the deep reds, rusty oranges, and soothing browns. It seemed doubly strange for such a cozy, color-coordinated living space to be a home to a partially demonic creature and then for another to be forming in it. All the same, the pitch magic swarmed and shifted until it had a humanoid shape.

Inky wisps rolled off Devon and dissipated as he wholly appeared. It was hard to believe that he was related to Kane, despite the obvious similar facial features. While tall for a woman, she did not near his stature that seemed to be at least six and a half feet. Silky midnight tresses were well managed, half of them pulled back with a small tie and the rest falling free. Slick, onyx bones curled out of his temples and over each ear. Lifting a perfectly shaped brow, he settled a distant, slightly curious ruby gaze on Gabriel. His skin was a rich tan that looked sooty around the edges of his eyes, the edges of his hairline, and the ends of his fingers. While on some it make them look unkempt and dirty, it only seemed to add to a certain seductive, come-hither look that was wholly unintentional on his part. Good hygiene was his only sin in terms of appearance- unless one blamed him for being dressed head to toe in rather snug black attire

"Did I interrupt something?" he asked, his deep bass voice reverberating through the silence. "Here I had expected that she had gotten herself involved in another charity case, but it seems that this may be a little more complicated. Don't worry about waking her, I have all night and can help myself."

He sauntered into the kitchen and promptly started to pull out all manner of ingredients: flour, sugar, chocolate, coconut, milk, butter, cream, and others that were unintentionally hidden by his torso as he moved about. "What are you?" he asked casually as he went to work, not breaking his stride to make sure that he had the other's attention. Devon was confident that Gabriel would be paying attention considering the only thing of interest in the room was unconscious. Surely he didn't intend to keep cooing to someone that wasn't listening and ignore the demon pattering about?

"Knowing your name tells me nothing. What you are is far more interesting and relevant. A title is merely that- I am sure she hasn't divulged this to you yet, but Kane is hardly the lady on the bed's name. Kane is a conjuration of her mind, one that is much more pleasant than the name she was born with. Oh, don't fret- it is much more suiting and she has been called it all but for the first score of her life."

He appeared to be pulling out utensils now- pots, pans, bowls, spoons, knives, measuring cups. There was no searching involved, for Devon knew Kane's haphazard arrangements better than the dark angel knew them herself at times. It was so rare for Kane to cook that Devon's infrequent visits made him more familiar with the sorting.

"I will satisfy your curiosity since there isn't much of a reason to conceal it and I do enjoy some conversation. My conjured name is Devon and I do hope we'll keep to these names my sisters and I created in the future. What I am is her brother, a demon. She's asked me to come here through our communication device." A lazy gesture was made with one arm towards the glass box on Kane's desk without the male so much as turning to assure that he was pointing in the right direction. The other arm and hand was preoccupied, cracking a couple of eggs into a bowl and deftly tossing the shells in the trash can below the sink.

"Now," he turned ,pulling the bowl off the corner with the hand that had been extended a moment before and nestling it in his arm. While it rested in that crook, he picked up a fork and started to beat the eggs as he continued to speak. "What are you? A lover, a fighter, a lost soul looking for someone or something to save? You need not look so anxious. Had I wanted to try to kill my sibling, I would not have toyed with you so by being so casual. I am not Malik."