The moonlit air held a resentful bite, as mists of condensation claimed the very last of winter; shielding those inside who remained awake in this hour, by concealing the outside world at any window. The elements themselves seemed to be hiding the evils residing on the streets. Only those foolish enough to venture outside – and there was currently only one – would capture a glimpse at the fallen guardian of life; that was, if she let him. A woman, whose face might now resemble her midlife; she had lost the understanding of the Heart she'd bore decades ago. It was not in the interest, of a guardian Keeper, to see herself before she saw those of the universe around her. It was not in the interest, of a guardian Keeper, to murder rather than kill – and that was, if kill at all.

A lone tune burned through the haze at a curbside; a man had lost his home and his mind. The death of his child being under investigation when he had found the letter, just this last evening. Explaining herself for choosing the afterlife above him; her letter was an apology to leave, more than any comfort for the man. That had been the moment his home had become a stranger, and now he hummed the songs of his wedding day to the night. "Quintessence."

Will Vandom stilled in unruly sleep – the fitful tears fell silently for a moment. The man on the curb trembled with an energy so foreign, and yet so familiar to the world. But he had been dead the instant the word had been said. Nerissa wore white as though to mock Angels. And yet, the Oracle of Time knew he had been the one to dress her.

Perhaps it was right, for she had been dirtied in the ashes of Thanos, but her attire had been readied for Kandrakar, was she ever so ready to allow herself. The Oracle of Time did not open his eyes; the fumes of Earth almost eroding him as he sat in meditation. One might comment his being midair, but there was not air to breathe were he resided. There was no sense of time, until watching others. There was no age. There was an infinity of sectored haven. A place of neither death, nor life. The Xing Jing had breathed the air and in the back of her mind had been Kandrakar. She had left the Heart, and she had left infinity – her own mind left unknowing. The Oracle of Time had made a fault in his weakness of emotion. No matter, unless Nerissa was to thrive.

A far more indefinite fate than was comforting, for the council stirred around him. Of course, with Wilhelmina Vandom, his sights had always been indefinite. Perhaps her fighting was more dangerous than passivity. The Oracle watched over the scene of Nerissa; a frown of worry taken on his features as the woman spoke in melodic tone. "Sleep, my clever babe.. Tomorrow, the hunt begins."

…

It had been happening from the moment he had met her; trudging in the snow in late December with only a sadness on her face, though a sarcasm in her words. She'd told him she'd lost her friend and Matt could remember dreading the thought of someone dying.. Just the thought of what they were doing made everything feel terribly awkward. Or that was what he'd thought in awkward silence for moments, that became comfortable the moment that she'd told him some bizarre of how she refused to ever love him and then the crushing of her lips onto his.

Matt fumbled with the object in his hand and grinned soberly at the way he'd constantly be reminded. She was never going to love him. She refused to, but she doubted that she could if she wanted. He'd found it so intensely hilarious, and eventually she'd begin laughing too, because he'd got the point or had thought so, but she kept telling. He supposed it was because they made a combined age of not thirty-three. Love was a notion above them, and if anything it would've uneased him more if she'd told him she might.

Perhaps it was the fact that he knew he took to her more than she, him. Perhaps the knowing that he was really far too old; near eighteen, to have her taste.. Perhaps it was the fact that he couldn't even recall what'd happened and he'd woke from a daze with her locking him into her house.. Perhaps it was that for every day he tried to speak to her, Will Vandom's tiny smiles seemed forced and never in his direction because he couldn't get close enough.

Matt Olsen flipped the phone in his hand and finally pressed the button, waiting for a monotone voice to tell him on the line that he should leave his message after the beep.

…

"Will, I want you doing the laundry today! I've told you a thousand times!" Susan Vandom frowned down at the brimming basket; well aware that there was a whole second one hiding within the bathroom and that both had been asking to be done for the better part of the month of March that was now overcoming. Still, something continued to shake in her voice, but Will padded out in the most pink she'd worn in years and frowned.

"I'm meant to be helping decorate for this party." There was something blatantly honest in the bronzed coffee eyes, that Susan was sure had been missing for months. It held within droopy eyelids, and she had to withhold the smile her daughter bashfully inspired in her. She hadn't heard the girl whine in a while; not as feebly, because Will was usually already sure of what she was wanting and getting. "Mrs Rudolph is leaving at the end of the term! I can't not help!"

"I'm sure she'll think it very helpful if you're clean." Susan forced a smirk when the girl's shoulders dropped, pulling open her jacket to reveal Vance Michael Justin on her t-shirt. "You said you'd do it a week ago! Look what I'm wearing."

But something stopped within her when Will glared in her placid way. "A week ago, I thought I was being forced back to a dead end town that you were the one to take me from in the first place. I'm sorry if not everything has gone to your schedule."

"Laundry. Today. Or no party." She wasn't sure how else to get through to the girl, posing in the form of what had once been her daughter. Will just kept changing. And screaming with frustration before she left, slamming the door.

"I HATE YOU!"