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Snippet #2443516

located in New York City, New York, a part of Somewhere Between the Fallen and the Damned, one of the many universes on RPG.

New York City, New York

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Alistair Character Portrait: Tsukiyo Fuhen Character Portrait: Kazehana Fuhen Character Portrait: Caspar Falls
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“Yeah yeah, just
 don’t go spreading it around, okay? I have a reputation, you know.”


Perhaps ordinarily, she would have tried to brush off the thanks. She wasn’t used to being sincerely thanked by anyone but her sister or a patient, maybe, and Morgan obviously wasn’t either of those. Honestly, the majority of the other human interaction in her life was pretty shallow—she’d always found it hard to genuinely connect to another person. She could walk into a room and draw most of the attention in it, sure, but there was nothing genuine or lasting in that, and she really didn’t like the feeling all that much. Kaz could say she was used to being looked at, but not that she was used to being seen.

Maybe that’s because she was looking for human interaction. Apparently, it was just that much easier for her to get along with demons and fallen angels. Go figure, right? That kind of thing had been just what she’d been running from the whole time. Maybe
 maybe she’d had it all backwards. Even Carlisle the world’s most annoying poltergeist was more a friend to her than most of the people she’d ever willingly spent time with. It was like something was always missing or off. But not here, not with them. With him.

But her thoughts were turning in strange circles, and she had no idea where they were even trying to go, so it was almost a relief when it was her turn to be pulled along behind him, led deeper into the park as the darkness fell around them like the snow. Morgan did something with his particular talent—cryokinesis, it was called, which was honestly a pretty awesome word. Apparently, it could also do pretty awesome things. She stared at the shifting lights numbly for a second before her face broke into a smile and she crouched to get a better look, one of her hands still enfolded in his. She hadn’t really realized it was there, even, but
 it was hard to say if she’d have done anything differently even if she had.

Her other elbow was propped on one of her knees, and she placed her chin in the corresponding hand, watching the light hues shift and dance like the real Northern Lights. “Huh. That’s really something. Beautiful—who’d have thought?” She paused, then tilted her head to look up at him, standing from her crouch and grinning. “Someday, I’ll have to make you freeze a pond so we can all go skating. I kinda want to watch As fall down.” Her eyes carried the glint of humor, though she did not quite laugh.




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“What, I don't look like anybody's brother to you?”


He accepted her decisions easily enough; how could he do otherwise? They were, he sensed, made in large part out of consideration for him, something that he found unsurprising, even after knowing her for such a short time. They were both very good people, the Fuhens, and he was quite glad to have met them. Still, if in time she wanted to see Esther’s diary, he would be more than happy to let her have it—it would do more good in the hands of a Watcher who could learn from it, probably one of Esther’s descendants, actually, than in his. Goodness knew he’d had it long enough. The book was ancient by now.

“You know,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a hint of playfulness, “It isn’t really fair to ask a teacher a question and then tell him not to answer it. It’s kind of what we do.” He smiled though, to show that he didn’t actually mind, and tilted his head slightly to one side. She was observant, especially when it came to the people she cared about, he would give her that. But he wondered if it had really passed her by, just how different she was as well. Or perhaps she’d always been this way, and he was the one that was simply brushing back her layers like an archeologist trying to get at some precious artifact.

The metaphor was an apt one, he thought—the human soul was a very precious thing. He could feel a little bit of anxiety emanating from her, and he’d been at this long enough to guess the source. Reaching over the space between them, Cass placed a large, callused hand on her head, ruffling her hair with some affection. “Don’t worry so much about it,” he said, his tone surprisingly gentle and understanding. “These things have a way of working out in the end. It may sound unbelievable coming from me, but it’s possible to overthink things. Sometimes, you have to have a little faith in the people around you.”

That was a lesson he’d learned a long time ago, but he hoped dearly that her lesson would not be as harsh as his had been. She’d asked if he’d ever had any siblings—the answer, in the clearest terms he knew, was yes. Not older ones; he himself was far too old for that, but plenty of younger ones. Morgan was predominant among them, but he was not the first, nor the source of Cass’s lessons in faith. That had been another, thousands of years ago now. But those lessons had resounded throughout his entire existence, down to this very moment. He only hoped they would be enough to carry him through this.

For he was no fool, and this was not going to be easy.