Hi! It's me again! Being that there are few stories for my OTP, I figured I'd create a few. These are always on Nevva's perspective, so I thought I would do one on Saint Dane's perspective. This may be a bit OOC…

Saint Dane had come to a conclusion: something was seriously wrong with him. It wasn't like he hadn't been told that before-nor was his evidence based on what he had been told before. He wasn't sure what caused it, whether a well placed hit to the head by one of the travellers, or over exposure to the flume's gases-but he was ill.

It didn't seem to be contagious-Nevva didn't appear to be showing any symptoms. It had started a few months ago. They were going out to a formal occasion to celebrate some Quillian and thus had to be dressed up. She wasn't yet used to her new found abilities, so she had put her hair up and put on some kind of red dress. It wasn't something overly special-as in no frills or anything overly flashy-but it seemed to sparkle from the overbearing presence of glitter. But when she stepped out, the condition that had plagued him since had hit him like a speeding train. For whatever reason, his brain went into dead lock. He couldn't think, couldn't speak-when it hit he wasn't sure if he was even breathing. When she asked him if she looked alright, all he could do is nod. Later on, other symptoms started to develop. Sometimes if she was just in the room, it would happen. His heart would race, he would feel feverish (his first sign that this was in fact an illness) and he found himself being drawn into the most…unusual things. For starters, when she was singing, he would watch (while pretending to be doing something else), or she would react to something a certain way and he would have to suppress a giggle (yes, like a pathetic school girl). He even caught himself staring at her…backside…of all the things he had done, this was the least reasonable. It wasn't like it was a foreign object or that there was anything special about this one. When he caught himself, he had been quite embarrassed and had locked himself in his study for an hour trying to compose himself. As well as this unfortunate event, he also felt himself getting angry and flustered whenever she spoke to another man. What sense was there in that?

There was no way of denying something was wrong with him. The question was what.

His first plan was to ask of his acolyte. Seth wasn't someone one would put as wise. While he wasn't the smartest man in Halla, he was certainly very wise. Not to mention loyal to a fault, though that may have had to do with the fact that Seth was his older brother. The only issue was that when they were in private, he would never hear the end of this. As he penned a letter, leaving some of the more embarrassing details out, he himself tried to figure out what had plagued him. Saint Dane hoped that he wasn't busy (being a drama teacher in their birth territory) and could answer this question.

When Seth received the letter (thankfully in the middle of his planning time) he looked at it very strangely. Surely his brother could recognize something so obvious-though mind you, Seth was well informed at figuring out matters of the heart. He had even started one of those blogs where people would harp out their romantic issues and he would assist with the matter. The last thing he had expected was to get something from his brother. But then again, he figured it was about time. After all, who doesn't want little nephews and nieces running around? Mind you, that was probably something he shouldn't add in the reply. In a flash, he penned out his response and sent it back, wishing to see the look on his brother's face when he read it.

When Saint Dane received the letter, he grabbed it as quick as he could and started to read it.

Hey!

Sounds like you're having some trouble. But don't worry, this is completely natural-trust me. I'd love to do some long and ongoing build up to the conclusion, but the rambling is more your thing (Saint Dane scoffed sounding slightly offended). The answer is my dear 'baby' brother. You are in L-O-V-E. Don't fight it, for that's pretty impossible. Just go with it. But you absolutely have to tell her! Do not, and I repeat do not keep it to yourself. The last thing I want is to see you sobbing like a teenage girl because she found a beau and you didn't try. You're good with your words-you'll figure something out. After all, you've known each other for a year. That's a lot better chance then most guys have.

If you need anymore advice, feel free to give me a shout out.

Seth, your loyal acolyte and your awesome brother.

Saint Dane just stared at the letter. Now that he thought about it, it made a lot of sense. But…surely that wasn't possible. Was it? What could he say? How could he express how he felt to the target of his affections when he couldn't explain it to himself.

"So you finally figured it out, huh?"

At one time, this voice would have sent him into a panic, having no clue where it was coming from. But he was well acquainted with this being. His name was Pride. He claimed to be some sort of demon, but Saint Dane had guessed that this was one of the two things his subconscious had created. Either way, he and the other seemed realistic in their mannerisms.

"I wish she was one of us. Man, she is hot!" Pride seemed to be speaking through saliva.

"Ugh, you are such a pervert." The other spoke. She claimed her name was Faith. They were both annoying in their own way-another reason he preferred to think out loud, to prevent their commentary…

"I suppose you two are here to weigh in?" Saint Dane groaned, not enjoying the two beings company.

"Of course! Someone needs to keep an eye on you-and the rest of humanity." Faith answered cheerily.

"You know, you could have asked me. I'm friends with Cupid. He's an expert on this sort of thing." Faith pointed out.

"He's probably the guy responsible for this little issue of yours…" Pride rolled his red eyes.

"This is getting ridiculous." Saint Dane muttered.

"Oh, sorry. Anyway, I'm so happy! Nothing wrong with a bit of romance-the perfect thing to add joy into your life. Other than those little quests of yours." Faith muttered the last bit to herself.

"Don't listen to her-a little power never killed anyone. So, about this girl of yours…"

Saint Dane's patience was wearing thin very quickly. Very quickly.

"I'm a little bit busy right now…"

"Sorry-here's an idea. Faith and I could give you a few suggestions."

Patience gone. "What in Halla makes you think I want to BE with her?!"

Faith flinched, but Pride seemed to be unfazed. "Not bad, but the boss is a lot scarier. Why wouldn't you want to be with her? I mean, she has to be one of the hottest beings in Halla, one of the smartest, and she's the only girl you can hang out with socially (not like you try anyway…)"

Meanwhile, the girl in question, Miss Nevva Winter was slightly concerned. Not as much as she had been a year ago when he had started yelling for apparently no reason. Now, it was only slight. She wanted to take him into a psychiatrist, but she wasn't sure how to phrase the issue. Until she could figure out a way, she had gotten accustomed to just making tea-something that seemed to relax him (slightly) when he was in this 'disposition.' She hadn't quite made out what he had said. Or at least, she didn't think she did. Nevva didn't see him as the romanticist in any frame of light whatsoever. To be simply put, he didn't appear like anyone who was capable of falling in love. Something she found…Nevva what are you thinking? Just go do what you need to do.

When she took a look into the office where he was sitting, he appeared to be massaging his temples, and he looked fidgety-something that she always associated with frustration when he was the one doing it. She sped up her pace to their kitchen.

Of all of their visits, this was definitely the most stressful of them all. She hadn't noticed his eye twitching. And apparently neither did Pride and Faith. Either that or they didn't care.

"You two would be amazing together. It's a match made in Heaven!"

"Date her for a bit. Test the water. Don't need to bog yourself down with marriage…"

"Pride! If the dating turns out well (and I know it will…) get married. It's not a big deal, really! If you love her, then you'll want to stay by her side forever."

"And we…"

As Nevva was going to head back with the cup, she heard a crash. It didn't happen very often, but if the conditions were right (though she never could figure what the conditions were exactly) his temper would flare out of control to the point where he would start destroying things. She had noticed these days; these incidents were becoming more and more predominant. "Is everything alright?" She called out. From the lack of response, other than the sound of what appeared to be a vase shattering against his desk, she assumed he hadn't heard her. She sped toward the office. Sometimes if someone else showed up-more often than not-he would stop his aggressive behaviour. When she arrived, it appeared to be in the nick of time, for her companion had a chair lifted over his head, ready to thrust it against the wall. He had seemed to hear her come in, and when he turned around his face seemed to be akin to a child with his hand stuck in the cookie jar-still holding the chair over his head.

He slowly placed the chair down. "Oh…Nevva. Thank you…" He mumbled quietly. It was a fact that he found his temper humiliating, and this fact was showing yet again. He made a point of walking to his bedroom-where he spent the remainder of the afternoon.

When he made it into his room, it was almost as if they were waiting for him. "I know you were provoked, (and I apologize for my earlier behaviour), but you need to get that temper of yours under control." Faith remarked.

Saint Dane cussed. They weren't gone-not at all.

"I can't speak for Pride, but I think we've said too much. If there's anything you want to add, I'm listening."

"Why must I?" He groaned to the obstinate angel.

"Just pretend you're trying to solve one of your *ahem* puzzles. I'll be able to hear you."

"Let me guess, you can read minds?"

"No. You talk to yourself."

"I do not..."

"I know your plans for Eelong. Would you like me to recite them?" She cut him off.

"Be my guest."

"The plan is to repeal Edict 46, which will make the klees eat the gars-but they will be poisoned with something that must be off territory-in your eyes to make it untraceable-so you will cause mass genocide...I feel the sudden urge to slap you right now. Care to explain why?"

"Forget that. How do you know that? I haven't revealed my plans to Nevva! They're incomplete!"

"Simple, you talk to yourself."

"And why do you insist conversation on these romantic affairs?"

"Because you need it. (Saint Dane scoffed.) You were the one ready to check yourself into a hospital, remember? Besides, whenever you do, you get an idea what to do."

"...that is true..." He was starting to see the logic. Did he still want to see such logic? Absolutely not!

"Good. Let's start with why you like her."

"Like...how am I supposed to know...I just found out what's wrong with me! Just tell me if there's any way to cure it!"

"True love's first kiss."

"Is that some kind of code name?"

"It is what it is..."

"How will this cure it?!"

"It won't. There is no cure. But you may not find it's such a bad condition."

"There is absolutely no way I would ever do that. Ever."

"I'll remind you of that later." Faith had a knowing glow in her eyes. Not like Saint Dane would have caught on-he couldn't see her.

"Anyway, let's try again-and rephrase it this time. Why did you pick her to be your partner?"

"Well, of all the others, she was the most brilliant, she understood Halla the quickest, and it just seemed like it was meant to be..."

"We have one reason why you love her now."

"Pardon?"
"You admire her intelligence."

"Is she beautiful?"

"I-I...suppose...so..." His face went beet red.

"Would it bother you if you were stuck together for the rest of your regular lives?"
"No-of all the people, she would be the best..."

"That's probably the best we can do on that topic. Do you plan to tell her?"

"No! Absolutely not! That is absurd!"

Faith looked unsure of what to say. Pride knew what to do. The clue was in the name.

"Eh, you don't have to tell her. Nothing wrong with being yellow bellied." Pride winked at Faith.

Saint Dane's eyes furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Chicken, coward, baby...take your pick." Pride had a toying smile.

Saint Dane's eyes had a strange light in them. The exact light Pride was aiming for.

"I'm not a coward, you pathetic waste of flesh..." He was very close to snapping again.

"Then prove it. Tell her."

"I will!"

"Swear to it!"

"I swear to all of you that I will do it, or die trying!"

"And we shall hold it to you until the end of your days!" Pride followed.

"Agreed!"

Saint Dane stormed out the room.

"Humans. So easily influenced..." Pride grinned maniacally.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but good job!"

Then Saint Dane's face changed slightly, from anger to growing panic as he started to realize what he just agreed to.

"3...2...1..." An exasperated Faith started to count.

"WHAT HAVE I DONE!"

Pride leaned against his neck. "You just made the best decision of your life."

From the sound Saint Dane made, it was obvious he didn't agree...

Thank you for reading, and see you for the second and final chapter!