The bar was just as he remembered – tucked away from the main road near the water on Nuuk street. It had been centuries since he had last been here, but he always remembered this spot. No matter the era, there was always food and drink to be found next to the ports on the western side of Greenland. Gallowglass tightened the mooring lines to the rickety dock and breathed in the clean air of the place he had once lived. He wasn't sure why, after all these years, he needed to come here. But as he couldn't return to Sept Tours or London, it seemed as good as any spot to be.

The boardwalk groaned beneath the heavy steps as Gallowglass made his way to the Portside Tavern, his breath light in the wintery air. Memories of what once was flooded his mind, their shimmery outlines fading to the modern-day buildings as he continued onward. The tavern door opened with a light groan, revealing a simple interior of wood and retired nautical pieces from local fishermen. What patrons occupied the establishment nodded their greetings and continued their lively conversations, a hearty laugh occurring here and there.

Gallowglass seated himself at the curve of the bar, out of direct line of the door but close enough to keep it within his view. A trait he never, after centuries of living, grew out of. He scrubbed at his face, his hands finding a way into the long blonde mess of hair and loosed a heavy sigh. A year, or close enough to a year since he had left London and yet it still felt like yesterday – the pain of wanting what you knew was not yours still chipped away at him. It was not an unknown feeling. There had been many a time in which he had desired something. Often resulting him taking it, consequences be damned. There had never been a temptation, though, that had asked him to cross the lines of loyalty and family for it. That the was the one line he would never cross. Part of him had hoped that the distance away would help soften the blow. If anything, it almost made it worse. Diana had been such a comfort in his long life of violence, wars and darkness. He almost laughed at the thought – he could already hear Philippe's criticism from the grave.

"My, such a face." A soft voice called to him. Gallowglass didn't bother to look up at the bartender who leaned against the edge of the bar top. "If you keep frowning like, I'll worry about serving you." The woman pushed away and pulled a heavy tumbler from beneath the bar, pouring a generous serving of aged scotch.

"How'd you know this is what I was going to order?" He grumbled, trying to keep the edge from his voice. Gallowglass' gaze fell to the amber liquid pushed before him. He watched the changes in its color, ranging from gold to deep amber, until it settled. Such an advance would usually prompt a flirtatious quip from him in the hopes of free drinks or company in the evening. But not even now did he have the energy to partake in such antics.

"You don't look like a wine man." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, shifting her weight to one side.

Gallowglass looked up at that, catching her as she sauntered off to the other end of the bar where another customer signaled for a refill. Were his problems that easy to read? Or did she happen to be a witch and magicked her way into his mind. He groaned at that last possibility. The last thing he needed was another witch. Gallowglass had had enough of witches to last him the next two centuries. Returning his attention back to his drink, he took to swirling the liquid until the desire to down it grew.

The scent of the sea hit him - but not the sea as it was now. No, this was the smell of what once was, long before man and machine corrupted the waters. And something else…

The bartender leaned a hip against the edge of the bar and crossed her arms once more. Gallowglass remained hunched over the bar, like a dog guarding his bone, unwilling to

"You're not going to drink yourself to death, are you?" He blinked at her question, taken aback at the accusation and a little offended.

"Weell," he drawled, "that was rather direct." Scowling a bit more in the hopes she would wander away again. She chuckled in response – a sound he, despite himself, rather liked.

He found himself straightening up a bit more and caught her gaze, taking in who was now in front of him. She had to be no more than 31 and of average height, made taller by the designer leather black boots. While not rail thin or skinny as most bartenders and women he crossed these days, she was neither heavy. Rather, she had this classic curve to her that most women would either kill for or starve away if only to embody the thin, skeletal models often idolized. She had a figure of grace and strength – and owned every inch of herself without excuse. The cotton blue blouse hung untucked over black jeans, the sleeves carelessly rolled up to her forearms. Silky black hair was pulled loosely in a low, messy bun at the nap of her neck; framing a slender oval face of caramel skin. It was easy enough to know she wasn't born here – certainly somewhere warm, where the sun didn't hide behind winter and the land was warm and green. It was her eyes though that seemed to make time stand still. Almond shaped eyes of swirling grey and deepest blue sparkled back at him, teasing him. . He blinked a bit – eyes don't change color, not like that. He had to be imagining things already.

"Sorry, I tend to be rather direct at times." She topped him off and continued to watch him, waiting for him.

"I'm not going to kill myself if that the answer yer looking for."

"Had to check." The bartender shrugged, turning to leave.

"Yer not from around here, are you?" Stopping her. Why? He didn't want her to leave – not that he needed her to stay, but… she was unusual. And that piqued his curiosity, or what was left of it.

"What gave it away?" She gestured to herself with a laugh. "No – I'm not from here." Witty, but not a real answer. Either she was used to keeping herself at a distance from leery, drunk patrons or she didn't want to be known.

"Italy?" Galloglass took another swig of the liquor. The warmth filled the cold of his core briefly, but did little else given his state of being. Almost like he was drinking sunshine. "Greece, Spain?"

"Knowing where I'm from, distracting yourself like this, will only keep the pain at bay." He froze at her words. She was too close to the mark. Not a witch, she didn't feel like one. Daemon? Damn creatures always had a habit of seeing other people's business without asking. That would certainly explain her canny ability to peg his emotion.

"I don't know the details and I'm not going to ask. But I'm a bartender – I know heartbreak when I see it." She drew closer to him as if ready to speak a secret that was only for him.

Gallowglass leveled a look at her and raised a hand to stop her. "If you're about to tell me 'be patient, the universe is working to find my soul mate' or 'things fall apart for a reason to make way for good things,' please spare me the corny bullshit and mind your own business."

Even he cringed at the bitterness and anger in his own words. For as much as he despised those kernels of self-comfort, part of him buried down below, needed to hear it. Diana was the calm harbor to the long and violent life he led – she had been the one who offered that gentleness. And she belonged body and soul to the man he admired most in this life. It killed him that she was beyond is grasp and it felt like betrayal and death against Matthew to feel like this.

"Don't hide from the hurt." Lost in his own thoughts and self-pity, Gallowglass hadn't realized she'd taken his hand, the warmth of her very soul stretching out and wrapping around him like the sun on the open sea. She did not balk at the coldness of his hand or pull away. Instead, she gave it a soft squeeze.

"Scream, start a fight, break dishes, cry – accept it in any way that works for you so that you can move forward. Because one day you'll meet your person. If you don't move forward, you'll only end up hurting them with your own unresolved pain. And then you'll lose who fate moved the heavens to bring you."

This was not what he was expecting, or imagined in a million years, to hear. It must have stunned him into utter silence for the next moment he blinked, she had already wandered away.

Begrudgingly he knew she was right – after all, wasn't that what he was trying to do by distancing himself? Or was he simply running away? He returned his attention to the glass before him, her words replaying over and over in his mind. Thinking back on his life, it dawned on him that he had never taken the time to accept certain truths or situations, especially if he despised the outcome. Any time he came close to emotions like he, he usually found himself off on some campaign or mission for Philippe at his own request. Diana had been the first constant in his long life that re-connected him back to life and the madness and emotions that came with it. While part of him might always long to love her as more than his Aunt - more than anything he didn't want to lose that connection to life. Gallowglass knew then that distance alone wasn't going help change. It was time for him to get his bearings again. Since Diana and his departure, he had gotten so lost that he almost forgot the song… but now he heard it loud and clear. The sea was calling him back home.

Gallowglass hastily stood to leave, but looked around to thank the woman who had, somehow, pulled him back from the edge. She was gone. He looked to the clock on the wall. How much time had passed? The man that now stood behind the bar made his way down to him, "another drink?"

"Who was the lass from before? Where did she go?"

"Sal? Her shifts been over for a bit." The man glared at Gallowglass. "And I'm not in the business of giving out my employees' information. Is that going to be an issue?"

Only the sound of coins falling against the bar top replied.

Faster than light or sound, Gallowglass was racing out in to the street tentatively smelling the air to find her. Sal.

Block after block, he raced through crowds to pick up any trace of her. There at the edge of the city he smelled it – the scent of sea and pine, faint but there nevertheless. It was her that he smelled at the bar. Gallowglass cursed the shifting winds but didn't relent. Further and further he ran from the city until he was near the old cliffs that were once occupied by the first occupants of this island though their remains were long gone. He caught her form some short ways off, near the cliffs edge and he used the last of strength to close the distance to catch her.

Her black hair, now loose, whipped about her in the winds as she neared the edge as if the strands were a part of the wind itself. Fear set in him – she was too close. The cold of the water would kill her, let alone the fall. The sea clashed against the cliff side, again and again, climbing higher and higher with each wave until finally the tips of the waves were visible. Still she did not stop her pace.

"SAL!"

She turned in surprised at the sound of his voice. He was met with glowing blue eyes as if the sun itself lit them from behind. Clearly she hadn't expected him here – though it didn't seem to throw her off too much. Sal cocked her head and grinned, taking one step further behind. The waves rose like a limb and crashed down. In a blink of an eye, she was gone.

Gallowglass raced to the edge in a frenzy, his vampire eyes scouring every craggy surface below for the broken body that was sure to be there. But it wasn't. She was gone, as if the sea itself had swallowed her whole.

He fell to his knees in a total loss of what had just happened. True he hadn't fed in some time, but there was no way that was causing him to hallucinate. Or was it? Had his hunger created this entire day in his mind? No… that warmth, that laugh. It had been real. The wind screamed about him as the sea beckoned once more to his soul. He lifted his head - it was then that he caught the scent of the old sea and pine once more.

No - He had not imagined her. Gallowglass stood and gazed out at the chaos of the ocean before him. If life had taught him anything, it was things like this didn't just happen – it was often planned by powers beyond them. A memory came to mind. Before he had left, Gallowglass recalled Diana speaking about things long forgotten were beginning to awaken. They had heard the Goddess in the darkness and were coming.

Sal was neither witch, nor vampire, nor Daemon… she was something else entirely. And more than anything, Gallowglass needed to know what. There was a possibility she was one of these foreshadowed creatures. Regardless of what turmoil remained at home, he was still a Knight of Lazarus – and if this new presence could pose a threat to the order, its charges or his family, he was obligated to investigate and eliminate.

For the first time since London, Gallowglass began to sing an off-key sea chanty, working his way back to the docks. It was time to hunt.