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Kane had blinked and stared at Gabriel's sudden assertiveness. Had he not rephrased and softened the command, she might have been compliant. While she had not said so explicitly, Kane respected assertiveness and determination. As much as it annoyed and repelled her at times, it also drew her in and made her listen. Upon his withdrawal she sat up, stubbornly defying his orders once he retreated. Shoulders seemed to pull her up, lifting before her head and arms. As the last clumps of split-ends left her pillow, she twisted her neck to stretch it. Legs swung out under the blanket and she turned her torso with them. Toes brushed against the floor, tapping it twice lightly before she shifted all her weight forward and stood.

Limp wings hung behind her, the large feathery masses looking more like a dead animal than a part of her person. By the gods she needed a shower- if only it hadn't seemed so far away. Teetering on the balls of her feet, she eyed the bathroom. The blood (what was left of it) seemed to have rushed towards the floor as she had stood, making her dizzy and disoriented. The door seemed to swing back and forth as she stared it, making lazy arcs as the room turned around her.

"It intrigued them," she called to him, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to gain her balance. "They wouldn't take a chance on an abomination; they won't suffer any challenges to their 'certainty.' After I showed them my wings and called into question whether you were fully changed, I think their confidence faded that a pure demon would be born of such a union. It was the most tempting, infuriating thing I could imagine for such 'purists.' Born by one changing into one of them, no less. In any case, I knew what I was doing. You needn't be selfless; it's wasted on one such as me."

Still?

"I can order something from downstairs; that souffle won't be nearly enough food. Still what?" A foot shuffled forward. Kane was sure she made quite a sight; still wearing her scuffed boots, a shirt starting to fall forward off her shoulders, and tight leather pants... all of which were stained with a thick, sticky stain that was quickly becoming brown and crusty. Her hair was tangled and disheveled, her skin sickly pale, and the drooping limbs on her back lifeless. Only someone with indefatigable pride would be trying to parade around like nothing had happened looking the way she did. Despite looking like hell, she didn't seem to be lacking in mental coherence now. Kane was back to her charming self once more.

To say the very least, Kane was surprised that he had literally swept her off her feet. It was more than the motion itself that caught her off-guard; she could see and feel the inner struggle. It wasn't clear to her what was going on, but the gentle touch of her hair and the aggressive concern for her well-being were very reminiscent of her ex-lover. No one had made such grand, affectionate moves towards her in a long time. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding, though; he had been an angel. Surely most angels were very loving as part of their nature.

Yes, that was it. He was confused and vulnerable and the reason he was acting that way he was just because of her proximity. Transference or something like that. He would snap out of it sooner or later, that she was confident of. If she was so confident, why was she blushing? Why was her heart fluttering and her breath halting at his touch? Kane knew it wasn't a result of the wings or anything else that was easily dismissed.

"It might be different for you," she said slowly, considering her words carefully. Although they looked alike in terms of feathery wings, Kane knew they were from entirely different worlds. Clearly ascension and descent were not the same, so it was reasonable to assume that magic would likewise be divergent. Still, she would make an attempt.

"I'm not sure how to explain how it...," she drifted off before an idea seized her. Her eyes snapped towards him, losing a glazed over look they had suddenly taken on the moment before, and she sat up abruptly. It was apparent she had no intentions of leaving the bed: instead, her focus was on securing his hands. One clasped the hand that was raised lightly, fingers pressing against his gently. Her other hand grabbed his free one, yanking it toward her person. Placing it below her neck and above her chest, she splayed his fingers over the spot where the heart would reside. A demonstration was in order.

With no further explanation, she began to chant. It was inaudible a first and, while clearly the common language, many of the words had a harsh edge to them. As more words flowed from her lips they became softer and melodic. "Two sides to a coin, a beginning and an end. Darkness, pain, void, death, destruction, anger..."

Under both palms he felt an intangible stirring, the one pressed on her torso stronger. Kane was not normally this showy with spells; this was a purposeful display. A part of her was pulled out; and it was just that- a part. Eased out of its comfortable place in her subconscious, the dark slipped forward with its acknowledgment. She was embracing it, accepting it, welcoming it. Power surged below her exterior, writhing around. Even though its presence could be felt, she still held power over it, her acceptance deliberate and controlled. Pulled, molded, and twisted by her will, it seemed that knowing it was half the battle.

"...hate... love turns to hate, hate to love.... love, creation, life, existence, light...." Kane's eyes were focused on his still, although it seemed part of her mind was drifted elsewhere. What was she doing? She had never been able to do this easily before. This is what Ashley did...

The magic that coalesced in her slowly shifted, everything twisting into its counterpart naturally. This, unfortunately, was not something Kane was used to. Rather than being subtle and restrained, it was wild and explosive. He could feel the emotions, the literal hate blossoming into love. Between the upraised palms a dark, inky blackness writhed out and then erupted into an almost blinding brilliance. Kane's eyes widened and she appeared to perhaps have suffered the ill-effects of the incantation, for her eyes seemed vacant. It was still there... both were still there. As the light powered its way out into dominance, the co-existing darkness seeped into her heart. A luminescent glow pulsated off her.

She was not dark. She was not light. Somehow, in a way she didn't understand, she was both. A blazing light had always been in her, although usually out of her grasp. The darkness she embraced had enveloped it before, hiding it and at the same time inadvertently protecting it. Now, wordlessly, her powers tried to coax something out of the fallen. What? She didn't know. It was calling.

Kane leaned towards him slightly, and heard herself speaking. "You knew the darkness the moment she was killed and the light the moment you loved her, didn't you? You just need to find them both."

"Alone?" Her voice was pointedly haunting and mystical. The magic seemed to be flowing through her vocal chords and causing strange changes in her pitch and tone that were not altogether pleasant. Her eyes still affixed to the spot where his had been staring, she continued to speak. Kane couldn't see that he had turned his head, nor could she see anything all, though she didn't have to presence of mind to alert him as to such. Blindly staring forward, she continued, "I can't turn back the clock, I can't undo what's be done. You can chose to forget it all, to let what you are now be your future.... or you can chose to remember, and let your conviction form the future. If you desire the former, I'll refer you to another."

The pulsating glow ceased abruptly, dissipating into the air like a morning fog into the day. The hand that had been held up to his fell limply to her lap as the magic in the tips of her fingers receded back into her palms, elbows, shoulders, and then torso. A solitary wisp danced in the air nearby like a flickering flame. Darkness emerged and rolled over the light in her chest, although neither seemed more potent under his digits. It was as if the eternal battle was manifesting in a playful romp. Guilt held the former back and bolstered the latter. Guilt.

You can't stir the heart of others. You should have learned that the first time, she chided herself mentally. For a while it had seemed another part of her had seized control, inhibitions lost and subconscious trying to reach out to the fallen. Now it was gone, shamed back into the recesses of her mind. Is this the frustration that her sister felt with her?

Her vision had started to return before she realized it was gone. A rapid knock on the door covered the startled, choked noise she made as large, rainbow-colored circles obscured her view of Gabriel and the room behind him. Whatever it was she had done, she would never do it again. In the end she had only made herself look even more inept and pushed him farther away. There should be awards for such grand, idiotic acts.

"Coming!" she called to the door.

"Am I allowed to get that?" Her voice sounded a bit angry and wounded, although she doubted he'd give it a second thought. Isn't that how she always sounded? Kane wasn't about to admit that somehow his words had penetrated her impregnable walls. "I don't think he's expecting you to look so different... and you could use more clothing." Perhaps he wouldn't notice that her eyes were unfocused. In an attempt to disguise them, she moved her head towards where the door should be.

"Oh yes, it killed her. The sentient, malevolent manifestation of virtue purposefully deranged angels everywhere, making them mere puppets that are not all at responsible for their own actions. It makes perfect sense to throw out the baby with the bathwater." Kane made no attempt to be anything but scathing caustic. It was hard not to take some of his bitterness in a poor way; after all, she was supposedly ascending, had just produced some of said magic, and her sister wielded it. Kane could tolerate most insults without truly having her fury invoked- but her twin was an entirely different matter.

Her sight returned more fully, just in time to see red flare on his cheeks. Wrongfully assuming it was a touch of anger, she seethed quietly. It was much easier to focus on being irate with him than herself; her failure was quickly neglected for his cold distance and ordering. What the hell did he think she was, anyway? Perhaps last night he had be a whirling dervish of death, but he lacked any sort of real control. While her wings had most certainly undergone a not altogether pleasant change this morning, at least she had some grasp of her powers. At least she wasn't having convenient memory lapses.

She had begun shoveling food in her mouth at an alarming rate, content to rant at him mentally, when she heard Mercy's name drop off his lips. It was inevitable that she'd come up. It was no small, insignificant event of her life. Anyone who spent any amount of substantial time with her was bound to eventually feel it out- he had simply coaxed it out into the open sooner than she would have liked. Her lips drew into a thin line, her expression became cold, and her eyes darkened as she stared down at her food, fork paused mid-flight.

"I killed her." She dropped the bombshell abruptly. From her tone of voice it was very apparent that she didn't mean in a metaphorical sense. She meant literally. With careful control of her visage, she continued to eat for a moment, contemplating. He had shoved her away, and in her childish glee she had attempted to do the same. What was it about this man that made her want to push him as far from her as possible and simultaneously draw him closer? It would do her no good to keep him close, no good for either of them. Very well; if he wanted distance, she'd give him reason. Reason to leave, to be repulsed.

If he stayed.... well, that wouldn't happen she was confident.

"When I was younger- much younger, even more of a newborn in your eyes I am sure, I naively joined a war. I wanted a cause, I wanted to fight for principles, and had lofty ideals... rebelling completely against my parents. My sister had left to ascend, my brother to be a killer, so I settled myself down into the role. I met a young demon in my battles, one who seemed to be so much like me I was smitten instantly. I was desperate to believe I was not alone in my thoughts for my race." She took a lengthy sip of her milk.

"Our tempestuous love quickly produced an unborn child. I refused to stay off the battle field, but stayed behind our lines tending to the wounded. I was hit with... the heavens only know. Mercy was cut from me, and by no small miracle a friend gifted with magic nursed me back to health. We lived, the three of us, what I presumed was happily for a while. Our lifestyle was unusual.... drifting to different worlds to participate in different worthy wars... but all seemed well." She was eating as she spoke, taking no time to pause dramatically. Her story sounded coolly rehearsed, as if she took no effort in reciting it. This was far from the truth, the food a small distraction to help her appear as she was.

"I had named her Mercy and taught her morals in hopes she'd be like my sister, able to become more than what we were born. It was our vision. This came to an abrupt end when I found her, a young teenager, destroying a village. At first I thought she was crying, but upon closer inspection I realized she was laughing. It had never occurred to me before that point someone would ever conspire with my family, to use me for my prestigious lineage. This is, predictably, what had happened... all the declarations of love but a ruse to use the genes my family had no access to and make him rich doing so." She cleared her throat, gulping down more milk as she continued to eat heartily. Color was returning to her face slowly.

"I didn't have much time to grasp the situation. Innocent people were fleeing their homes, burning alive. Their plaintive wails just made her laugh more. I had to chose, them or her. It was either strangers, hapless peons or my beloved daughter. I stabbed her in the back with the same sword I carry with me today. The darkness in her was consuming- my lover had taught her well. She was burning with hatred when she fell and saw who slew her. Haunting eyes of contempt and malice."

She was finished, both with the story and her food. Her stomach was full, although the plate clearly had enough left for Gabriel should he chose it. The chefs downstairs knew that normally Kane ate enough for two grown men and her breakfast many times would also be her lunch. Today she'd need three full meals, but for now she was satiated... in more than one way. Surely now he was aghast at her story. Even if her crusade made more sense, her desire to be a dark killer who bathed in sin trying to defend the meek, killing her daughter was unforgivable. It was a vile, remorseless. Mercy had never shown mercy, and in the end Kane had shown her none- Kane had only shown mercy to those that were being slain by her.

"I'm going to take a shower now," Kane asserted curtly. She had avoided eye contact the entire story, not wanting to see his expression turn to horror and scorn. Jumping up and starting towards the bathroom, she wasn't sure what she expected. An embrace, comforting words, a gentle validation? She was damned, angel of battle now or not. Mercy had been her defining action, what had set her into solitude. Who could understand such a being? Who would want to? Her jaw set as she tried to keep her composure.

The initial response was expected. When he had knocked over his chair and stood, cold eyes fixed on her likewise visage, she had not flinched. After all, she had been pushing for this response, hadn't she? Wasn't that why she had started her story? It was more successful than she had expected, she gathered, when she saw him out of the corner of her eye trembling what what she presumed was rage. Eyes did not stray onto his person despite the reaction: they stayed steadfast on her food, fork, plate, hands, and the comforter that covered her legs.

When his arm had shot out, stopping her from proceeding to her bathroom, she had anticipated an attack. Her muscles had tensed and she had involuntarily flinched in preparation. As he stood there gathering himself, her mind raced. What was he doing? Orbs fixated on a distance space that happened to be on her studio's wall. A display of ire- most likely a punch, kick, or stab- could be tolerated as long as it wasn't a mortal wound and she didn't have to see the eyes. Mercy's was enough to last her lifetime; she had no desire to see it repeated it on Gabriel.

And then he spoke. She stood there, stunned, for twice as long as he deliberated over what to do while he barred her passage. Several times her lips moved in silent words, but none came forth. No witty retorts, no biting comments, no scathing remarks. Her natural defenses shattered in front of her face, fragments falling at their feet. Nothing. She had nothing to hide herself behind or with.

Tears obscured her view of his own. They fell freely, and she was too numb to cover them up. How long had it been since she cried in front of anyone? Years, so many years. The last person to see her weep openly was the same that had betrayed her and their child. They streamed down her cheeks unhindered, falling off her chin in rapid succession. Kane had looked like a trainwreck before, but even more so now. Her face had become slightly ruddy with the emotion seeping through her skin, her eyes swelled slightly with the passage of tears, and her cheeks glistened as they continued to come forth. A horrible mess. She was a horrible, horrible mess.

Without thinking she leaned forward and, with a slight pause, kissed him on the cheek. Despite her distant, cold nature it was warm and soft. Had he not been sure it was the same woman he might consider that she and her twin had switched places. It was all she could manage, for even if the words "thank you" had come to her, she would have choked on them in an attempt not to sob.

Gently pushing past his arm, she fled to the bathroom to hide. Perhaps it was pointless because he had seen her exposed- but if she composed herself in a bit perhaps she could pretend it never happened. Maybe he'd leave and the moment would be forgotten forever. In her heart she hoped the first person to validate her actions would not leave, although she was already bracing herself for the downfall.

The door wasn't closed entirely, an idiosyncrasy that she hoped would be overlooked. Moving out of sight from the crevice left between the door and frame, she turned on the water and stripped down quickly. Kane was eager to rinse off her wings and withdraw them back into her back. As much as the fallen might appreciate gazing at them, she had absolutely no desire to keep them out. They were unwieldy, unattractive, and were more often in her way than of use. If they were exposed all the time there was a high likelihood that the demoness would have ripped them out years ago out of sheer annoyance.

She spent nearly half an hour in the shower. The warm water seemed to soothe as it beat down on her skin. The food and heat seemed to spur on the regeneration of blood. It would take longer to get it back awake, but there was absolutely zero chance of her falling back asleep. There were simply too many things to do in a day to waste on slumber. Once the liquid running over the feathers ran clear she pulled them inside, wincing as the new limbs adjusted. Her tears had stopped falling shortly after she had started washing herself, their salty taste lingering on her lips. There was something blissfully mindless about the shower. Palms pressed on either side of the temperature adjustment, she found it hard to turn it off. Even her hair felt slick and silky underneath the nourishing fluid.

Once she had turned it off she patted her face dry and toweled off her body. Peeking out the crevice once she realized that her male companion had fallen asleep. She quickly wrung out her hair, combed it back with her fingers into a loose band, and then dashed out into the room naked. With escaping steam as her only cover, she hurriedly yanked out undergarments, a purple tank top, and loose jeans and flung them on. It hardly mattered what she wore, so long as she was actually wearing them when he woke.

Once dressed, she surveyed the slumbering fallen with a frown. As much as she hated disturbing the sleeping, it looked wildly uncomfortable. The poor creature was already horribly confused and the last thing that she wanted to deal with was him horribly sore from laying in some unpleasant position. Grabbing his ankles, she swung them up and over on top of the bed, turning him so he was laying properly. A pillow was shoved rather ungracefully under his head and she started to pull up the blanket. Here she paused, fingers gripping the fabric lightly. Staring down at his bare chest she considered for a few moments now that he was unable to notice such a gaze. A wicked smile tugged at the edge of her lips and the cloth was pulled up only to his waist.

She might as well have something pleasant to look at if she was going to be wallowing in guilt and confusion.

Plopping down at her desk across the room, Kane pulled out a red piece of paper and jotted down a quick note in black ink. A cream colored feather and white envelope were retrieved from the glass box that she had sent her message in. Ashley had sent a reply. Setting the correspondence aside, the small scrap of red parchment was inserted and disappeared once the device was closed. Glancing over at Gabriel, she furrowed her brow.

He might be like Mercy was. I might be unable to save him.

Kane let out a small sigh and turned towards her desk, pulling her long legs up to her chest. Eyes spiraled out brown from the pupils, engulfing the iris in a deep chocolate. Her roots turned a deep pitch and slowly slipped down to the end of her hair. Sopping wet platinum tangles turned into midnight messy tresses that were pulled back limply. As the spell took effect she grabbed a wooden letter-opener, shoved it under the corner of flap, and pulled it through. Setting down the tool, she pulled out the several pages of perfectly folded sheets of eggshell parchment.

The writing, as expected, as an impeccable cursive script. If Ashley had ever written anything cruel or condescending, it could be overlooked for the grace of her penmanship. A smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, Kane poured over the four pages of flowing writing, tilting her head to the side every now and then.

The women led very different lives. Ashley was secluded in a dwelling with other angelic entities and beings, devoting her mind, body, and soul to purification, introspection, and opening her mind. Ashley's revelations on what Kane wrote about her life were often things that the darker sibling would never consider; likewise, Kane's thoughts on Ashley's trials and tribulations were also insightful on some level. The letters, then, were never boring, easily traversing topics of jobs, powers, family, theology, psionics, and historical artifacts. Gabriel might be surprised to know he had already been mentioned, thus the response letter Kane received briefly addressed him.

It took her half an hour to carefully read and ponder over the letter's contents. She would not write anything now; Ashley sent hers in the morning and Kane in the evening. Even considering the very... eventful... evening and morning that she had had, Kane preferred to cover an entire day in each missive. She was already certain that the one that would be scrawled tonight would be more like a novella than a daily reflection.