[color=green]"Ring around the rosy..." she came from the east, materialized where there had been nothing before, but now was. Dressed in a flowing gown of white, red hair falling down her back in soft waves, and piercing green eyes that seemed to glow with an inner light; she was ethereal and ghost-like in appearance. "A pocket full of posies..." her voice swam around her, light and lilting, and oddly echoing, "Ashes, ashes, ashes, ashes...ashes, ashes..." She moved gracefully, almost seeming to float along the ground rather than taking steps, her body not jolt from the impact of foot to ground, but swayed gently as though a strong enough wind could blow her away. It was absentmindedly that she let her feet take her wherever they would lead her. Always she followed the sound of the heartbeat, echoing and pulsing deep within inside her mind, even deeper down inside of her soul. She was in a bar with no recollection of how she'd got there. This was the way it usually was. She hardly ever recalled where she had been or how -c-[

-c- she had got to where she was. Call it short term memory, or long term memory, or forced amnesia; she didn't really care. She lived only for the pulse. She moved to a chair, and she folded herself into it, floating down as gently as a leaf falling from a tree, "We all fall down."

The sound of the heartbeat grew louder within her ears until it was so loud that it was a hum. At the beginning, she was sure that it had annoyed her. Now, it did not. Then again, perhaps it never had. Perhaps it had always been a part of her; hadn't he always been as well? No matter how he appeared, he was always the same to her. And despite his disposition, his very presence commanded and endeared her to him. She liked the feeling of his fingers in her hair, and the sound of his voice. Her eyes closed, and she tilted her head into his touch. When his hand slipped from her, a barely-there pout appeared on her lips, but then quickly disappeared as she spoke, “Of course I found you. As though you would expect anything less? I don’t think so,” she whispered. Pulling in a deep breath, she spoke of the song, “I don’t know what it is. Just something I heard in a village where many people had died from a sickness. It -c-

was sad.” Her jade green eyes flicked to him, drank in this ‘appearance’, and then she sighed. She always preferred the real thing. Lifting one of her hands, she brought her fingers to the spot on his neck that was just below his ear. She slid her fingers across the smooth skin there, and when she pulled them away, she lifted them so that he could see they were stained crimson, “You should be more careful when you’re playing.” Her eyes then turned away from him, and she searched the counter for something to wipe her hands on. She decided on the inside of the leather jacket that he had tossed down, and as she cleaned her fingers, she complained, “I’m thirsty, and what shall I call you today?” -end-

At the sudden display of anger, Amoena simply blinked. At some point in time - perhaps while they were fighting over a beloved ring or while she was witnessing the deaths of fluffy, neon-colored creatures with silly names like 'Birthday' or 'Love-A-Lot' - Amoena had lost her fear of him. Well, that wasn't completely true. Of course she still feared him; it was only natural with him being what he was. But there was a bigger part of her that simply cared for him, and that outweighed the terror. At his question, one shapely brow lifted, "I do believe I just told you that I was thirsty." She gave him a gentle smile, and then leaned toward him. A spark of mischief flared in her eyes before she licked her lips and then spoke, "I like this look. It's handsome. Now, are you going to tell me what to call you or would you simply prefer 'master'?" -end-