The darkness of the night is when memories start floating around troubled heads. Things of the past, things that could have been, always going around in their head. One of these souls was standing out on the corner of one of the many city streets. Standing in front of him, a small altar, with a candle and a dozen pointsetias layed to rest by a picture of a young woman. Couldn't be older than twenty, a smiling face that glowed by the candlelight. Green eyes were bent down, unshed tears shining as they glanced at the small offering they had to offer. A red carnation, in the holder's eyes it didn't seem enough for what had happened many years ago.

"Tis strange how some people like to dwell on the past."

At this disruption of thought, Elias turned around, flipping open a pocket knife at the intruder. His muscles were tense, the spikes on his bristling and his wings spreading out in a threatening stance. A spotted pteri gave an amused smirk hazel eyes not even blinking at the knife that was threatening to shank him in the stomach. The red scorchio cleared his throat and took a deep breath as he turned back around to the altar, putting the pocket knife back into his jacket pocket.

The pteri stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, the chill of the winter night wasn't cold enough for snow, but it was enough for Ptireo's breath to come out in puffs of smoke. Ptireo tilted his head and took a step forward, looking at the altar Elias had knelt in front of and was now placing his offering in front of the picture.

"Isn't this the territory of your gang?"

Elias closed his eyes trying to be patient with Ptireo and his questions, "Maybe. I didn't notice."

A shrug was Ptireo's response, "Do you miss your old life?"

Elias opened his eyes and gave a cold glare over to Ptireo before looking back at the altar, "No."

Not noticing the scorchio's annoyance, or deciding to ignore it Ptireo sighed, "It's tragic how she died."

Elias clenched his jaw trying to control his breathing. He stood up slowly as the pteri took out a small notepad from inside his coat and flipped it open. "Her name was Julianne Devme," Ptireo's voice became monotone as he read the report he copied down from his notes, "A young mother of 23. Had a child of five years old. Was coming home with her son from the Christmas midnight mass, when they got in the middle between a gang fight. Shots were fired, and a stray bullet went straight through her. The same bullet hit the kid, paralyzing him from the waist down."

While Ptireo had been talking, Elias had clenched his fists, his face screwed up as he tried to focus on his breathing, trying not to listen to the pteri's words. The way he said it like it was just a normal day thing.

The pteri blinked once at the paper before flipping the notebook closed and nonchalantly placing it back into his inside pocket, "You were there when it happened, correct?"

Ptireo looked up at the scorchio and his jaw met a clenched fist, sending the pteri sprawled onto the floor. Elias was glaring at the pteri, that last question finally breaking Elias's patience, "Hijo de la chingada!"

Ptireo rubbed his jaw, while Elias fumed, a fire in his eyes that he was trying to control. Trying to control the feeling of rage, and guilt he felt for that night. Rage that Ptireo had to mention, and guilt that it had happened because of him. He tooke a deep breath closing his eyes, and looking away from Ptireo his eyes going to the flame of the candle.

The pteri gave a sigh and stood up brushing himself off, "Tose that forget the past are doomed to repeat it," Ptireo's voice was that of understanding, which just made Elias feel even worse.

The scorchio shook his head and started walking down the street, his tennis shoes stepping into muddy puddles, and dirty slush of the snow a few nights ago. Ptireo tilted his head, "Elias?"

"Tengo que pensar..." He muttered, not caring if the pteri heard his words or not. It was what he needed to do at that moment, and he didn't want Ptireo around asking more stupid questions.