Masks She Wore

How far would you go to save the one you love? Would the secrets you unveil piece by devastating piece break away at your resolve? Would the truth beneath circumstance change your perspective and your overall decision to bring your beloved back? With doubt and uncertainty clouding your heart, would you be able to follow one simple rule?

Chapter 3: Disturbing the Dead

All he could see was white, a great nothing encompassing Akihiko in its immense void. He couldn't help but wince, the glaring brightness was almost too much for his eyes to bear. Hesitantly, he raised his hand, as if to shield his strained eyes from his harsh surroundings, an action he found to be quite futile. Aki could barely make out his flesh before him, his mouth slightly parting in surprise.

His feet held no purchase against any surface. Akihiko was suspended, drifting about helplessly amidst an ocean of nothing. He was cold. And very naked.

His ear twitched, a faint whisper of sorts barely touching the shell. Something was trying to get his attention, but what? Who? He whipped his head about, trying to discover the origin of the sound. To the left of him, the right of him, there was nothing to see, no place or person to look at. Nothing all around, and he was helpless, the only thing he could do was drift. And wait.

The air around him began to vibrate, subtle at first but slowly increasing in intensity, his skin becoming like bare gooseflesh as a pain slowly blossomed inside his head. The petals within were awakening and the ache was unbearable.

His body went rigid as a board, teeth clenched and every muscle in his body from head to toe tensed. He ached and cramped as muscles contracted and held fast, holding him still, paralyzed. Deeper the pain went, reaching from the base of his neck to just below his eye sockets. Akihiko wanted to scream.

The searing white pain branched out; each path parting and ensnaring within his skull. Each delicate tendril flexed, and without warning, each vein of cruel, hot pain curled. His lashes fluttered and his eyes rolled back as he was pushed over the edge, the pain reaching an agonizing crescendo.

Limbs were tangled with sweat damped sheets as he vaulted off the bed, falling to the floor. Reality was suddenly all around him. Slowly, he pushed himself up, resting on an elbow, ignoring the dull ache throbbing in his arms and knees. His breath was labored; chest heaving, heartbeat thundering in his ears, sweat trickling down his brow. Droplets of his sweat dripped to the floor, his bewildered eyes slowly taking in the hard floor beneath him.

It had all been so indescribable and he had no idea what to make of it. There had never been a dream in his life that had made him feel everything as if it had been there before him, inside his head tearing it apart. Dramatic nightmares had always been the norm for his psyche, but this… He wiped the sweat off his brow, combing his shaking fingers through his hair as he gulped for air.

There had been a voice, just as he was torn from the nightmare as he fell. He knew he had heard it. Rich and dark like velvet, that of a man, though there had been a slightly odd inflection weaved into the words as they were spoken.

"You have my sincerest apologies."

Gee thanks.

Wearily, he pushed himself back into a sitting position, sheets draped over his shoulder, arm resting on a propped up knee. He leaned his head back, resting his head against the comfort of his mattress, half lidded eyes catching the green blinking numbers of his alarm clock. His pale brow furrowed in response, it was only a few minutes after midnight.

-!-!-!-!-

Today had been a day for the gym. Usually, he preferred working out at home if he could, but there had been a few complaints from the people who rented the apartment below him. Apparently, they didn't take too kindly to him jump-roping or doing jumping jacks. Being at the gym, however, helped keep his mind busy and after the nightmare he had had the past night, he was quite thankful for that.

Akihiko started his day's workout with a quick jog on the treadmill, and then stayed on the elliptical machine for a good two hours, remembering to drink from the water bottle at his side from time to time. Sweat drenched his white shirt by the time two hours were up, the thin fabric hungrily clung to his frame accentuating the sculpted pectorals and abs that lay beneath; he wiped his face with a towel, looking around for what to do next.

Cooling down, he got on a bike and peddled for about fifteen minutes, ignoring the looks of the ladies who sat around him. Sigh. He lifted weights, silently counting as he performed each set. There were eight different weight training exercises he always made sure to hit: bench-press, squats, bicep curls, military press, crunches, calf raises, pull ups, and bench dips. He always tried to hit a full set of fifteen reps per training exercise. The small crowd of women around him, who were poorly feigning training as they hungrily eyed him, were very thankful for his tenacious work out regime.

Once stretches were done, he had hit the showers. His muscles were sweetly sore and the hot water was more than welcome to run down the plains of his aching body. Soapy water slipped over his broad shoulders and lean waist, cascading in rivulets over the hardened muscles of his abdomen and down the length of his long legs. Akihiko groaned as he scrubbed an arm with a lathered washcloth, the dull pain in each limb reminding him of that old adage: no pain, no gain. Their ache was only a constant reminder he needed to push himself harder.

Just as he had finished dressing, violins began to play from his gym bag. His eyebrow arched as he reached for his cell, ruffling his belongings. A flick of his wrist expertly opened the phone. He lowered his eyes as he mechanically pulled on his leather gloves, stretching his fingers so the leather comfortably hugged his skin. "Yes?"

"Akihiko, we have a problem."

That certainly got his attention. He pushed himself away from his closed locker, cautiously looking around for signs of anyone nearby. The tone in her voice troubled him, his sense of foreboding earlier settling heavily in the pit of his stomach, oh those silly nightmares. "Mitsuru? What's the issue?" His voice was even and hushed, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He had recognized the strained tone to her voice. Something had happened. Something bad.

Her shaky intake of breath shuddered in his ears, "Arisato's ashes have gone missing."

What?

The world suddenly felt like it was spinning. He fell back against a wall, ignoring the pain as he pushed himself back up, staring at his phone in disbelief. He closed his eyes, his mouth feeling dry as the words tried to escape his hesitant lips. "What? What do you mean gone missing?" Aki's hand covered his eyes, wanting this to be nothing more than Mitsuru's idea of a tasteless joke, though he knew better. Mitsuru wasn't the sort of woman to spout unnecessary nonsense at the expense of others.

"My sources say it happened in a matter of minutes," she did her best to control her voice, the words were spoken evenly and precise, though her worried edge bit at each syllable. "Approximately 12:01am to 12:04am."

Grunting, he bit back an oath, rolling his eyes in bitter frustration as he hit the wall with the back of his head. He, Ken, and Shinjiro, each of them had been right there that night. Akihiko frantically searched through his memories, trying to remember anything that stood out in particular, anything that was out of the ordinary. The boxer clenched his fists, closing his eyes tightly. There had only been one thing that had bothered him that night, the only thing that he wasn't able to explain away. The flickering of the lights…

He had been the only one to notice that one oddity, something he had half-heartedly written off as his mind simply playing tricks on him.

The fact that the three of them had been at the grave apartments that particular night, for all Akihiko knew, while the thief had been waiting in the shadows, out of their sights biding his time to slip in, enraged him. How could they be so careless? Why hadn't they remained vigilant?

The trembling in his voice said it all. "You have got to be kidding me. Damn it…" Akihiko glared at the lockers ahead of him, slamming his fist into the wall behind him. He ignored the pain; all he could think of was Kieka. Could she not even be allowed rest on this side of the world as well? Silver eyes flashed with dangerous intent. If he found the thief, if he was able to get his hands on them, he would, he would…

Mitsuru continued on, breaking Akihiko from his dangerous thoughts, "From what I've gathered, this was no ordinary perpetrator. I have received reports that there was no sign of a break in. Whoever it was…they were definitely skilled." He could hear the faint whisper of papers being shifted about through her line. "The glass and locks of the doors were still intact, as if untouched, and the security cameras were somehow cut off momentarily during the theft."

He fumbled around for his gym bag, tossing his remaining personal effects into the bag as he replied. "Your people have combed the place?" Pulling the zipper of his bag closed, he quickly picked it up and made his way out of the building. His stride was quick as he maneuvered his exit as fast as possible. He wanted to see, no, he needed to see what was going on. Perhaps he could find something that the Kirijo Group had missed. Though, honestly, it was all wishful thinking on his part. These weren't lazy hired hands bullshitting on a job. These people were professional: tedious, observant, and the very best in their fields.

"If my people know anything about losing what is precious to me, they know far too well that there will be certain consequences if even the smallest indiscretion is not investigated to the fullest. Failure in retrieving the urn and uncovering the thief's identity is not an option." Indeed, it wasn't and there was nothing anyone feared most than an "execution" at the hands of Mitsuru Kirijo. Akihiko, Junpei, and… the late Ryoji had had firsthand knowledge of said punishment.

Akihiko would never forget it for as long as he lived.

Failure was something that could not be tolerated, not when her company had been on the verge of collapse. With her guidance, the Kirijo Group had recovered over the course of a year. She had proven she had a firm grip on the reigns of her family's legacy. She was as fair as she was stern, and she held on to the ethics and ideals of her father with a fierce tenacity. It was the least she could do to honor the man and his memory.

Pushing his way out through the gym exit, Akihiko fought the strong urge to run toward the subway. He desperately wanted to go to the shrine. Badly. "Need me to do anything?"

"I will be a bit longer here than I would like, can you call the others and set up a meeting at the old dormitory?"

Aki had just barely begun his way to his destination until the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He stopped in his tracks. The unsettling feeling of someone watching him shivered up and down his spine. Akihiko looked to and fro, people walked mindlessly around him, ignoring him as they continued on with their mundane lives. He looked to the nearby trees, windows of shops nearby. He spotted no one.

The grip on his phone tightened, his leather gloves squeaking in protest. The boxer was as still as a statue as the afternoon crowd moved past him as if he were a mere pole to be dodged. "Akihiko?" Mitsuru sounded concerned.

His words were slow in response, his eyes scanning the area. He saw nothing out of place. His words were slow and careful, "Yeah I'll get right on it. What time would you suggest?" He rubbed his neck as he looked behind him toward the gym, doing what he could to calm his nerves. Shaking off his apprehension, he continued his way toward the subway.

"Regrettably, it will have to be much later than I would like." The woman's sigh was soft through the phone, "7pm will have to suffice for now. I," She hesitated, "haven't told anyone other than you about what has transpired. Please keep this between us until everyone is present at the meeting."

The corners of his lips were gently pulled up into a small smile, "I see." His lashes lowered as he considered her words. "Thank you for telling me, Mitsuru. I mean it."

"Knowing how close you two became while she was with us, I thought you of all people should be notified before everyone else." He could hear more papers being shuffled about, he could picture her scanning each page for relevant information. "There is something, however, that has been bothering me."

"And that is?"

"Why would someone go through the trouble of stealing her ashes? The only people who knew about her abilities were Ikutsuki and the other S.E.E.S. members. Of all the remains to pilfer, why hers? To anyone else, she was just a simple high school student who passed on suddenly."

Kieka was smiling at him, her chestnut colored pony tail was tickling the nape of her neck as it swayed in the breeze. Her deep red eyes looked at him expectantly in his mind's eye. His voice was low, the words stumbling out. "A person of no importance."

Mitsuru continued to speak, "And furthermore, there is no evidence of tampering. The only area disturbed was the destroyed remains of the compartment that housed the ashes of Arisato."

"I don't like the feeling I'm getting."

"It is most disconcerting. We'll get to the bottom of this. I'll see you at the appointed time, Akihiko. Until then."

Akihiko ascended the stairs to the substation, quickly going through his S.E.E.S. contacts on his phone. He'd call who he had to before boarding the train.

-!-!-!-!-

He jogged up the steps of Naganaki Shrine, ignoring those who were there wishing to find true love or strike it rich. Next to the shrine the grave apartments stood. Men and women clad in starched black suits went in and out of the building like ants, investigating anything that may have been overlooked. Akihiko slowed in his steps as he neared the entrance, one of the suited men walking forward to meet him. The man was tall and broad shouldered, his short red hair was neatly combed to the side, and his eyes were hidden behind designer shades, lens as black as the suit he wore.

Akihiko wasn't impressed.

"Civilians aren't permitted inside while we're conducting investigations," the man's voice was terse and to the point. His thoughts were written all over him: it wasn't enough that they weren't able to find anything that could prove crucial to Mitsuru, but now civilians dared trespass and muddy things further?

Pointing a gloved finger to the man's pocket, Akihiko stared him down with a frown. He had expected as much but he wasn't one to back down, especially when he wanted to see things for himself. "Call Mitsuru Kirijo. Tell her Akihiko Sanada wants to look around."

With a smirk, Suit just shook his head. "Nice try," he pointed toward the shrine, nodding at its location. "Head down to the shrine and wait there with all the others."

Aki refused to break eye contact as he took out his phone, dialing Mitsuru's number and calmly holding it to his ear. If this was how Suit wanted to play, fine, he'd play along. Nothing was keeping Aki out, and he'd get his way in at any cost.

"Mitsuru." As the name passed his lips, Suit crossed his arms, wrinkles forming along the arms of his pristine suit jacket. "Trying to head into the grave apartments but I'm afraid I'm being stopped at its entrance. I'd like permission to enter the site." A triumphant smile spread across his lips as he narrowed his eyes at the man before him. "Thank you, Mitsuru. I'll see you tonight." With that, he flipped his phone shut as he calmly returned it to his pocket.

"Look I understand you'll try and trick your way in, but this is a serious investigation," Suit gestured behind him, "Something bad has happened and we're trying to get to the bottom of it. You understand right?"

Akihiko tilted his chin up, standing straight and not backing down. "Oh, I understand alright. That's why I'm here."

Suit just shook his head, a stray hair falling over his sunglasses. "Right, Get out o-"

"Akihiko Sanada?" A woman dressed in the same black suit attire emerged from the background. She looked disinterestedly between the two. She clearly wasn't a fan of male pissing contests. "You can come in. Miss Kirijo has given her 'okay.'" The woman placed a firm hand on Suit's shoulder, guiding him back so Akihiko could pass by.

With a smug smile, Aki walked past the two and entered the building.

Slipping beyond the doors and heading up the stairs had sobered his triumph in more ways than one. Suits were investigating everywhere. Hearing that they had been so tedious yet unable to turn up the slightest hint had initially unnerved him, but now seeing it all before his grey eyes made the feeling so much worse.

The first thing he noticed after crossing the threshold of the stairs was Kieka's destroyed compartment. Pieces of glass and marble littered the floor; metal was bent outward as if something had effortlessly twisted it as though it had been mere wet clay. The square compartment that had housed her ashes was laid bare for all to see. The touch screen that had once displayed Kieka's smiling picture flawlessly now only showed static. Her picture briefly made appearances through the static, though the technical hiccups were far too quick to catch a decent look at the picture that had once been there. The wiring more than likely had been damaged thanks to the break in.

Slowly, he made his way to the damaged compartment, careful of the debris at his feet. The fact that all this had been done in a matter of three minutes was sobering. Whoever, whatever, had smashed its way to retrieve its prize was someone…something… of great strength and speed, there was no denying that. But he couldn't understand their reason. Why? Why go through the trouble? Why only her ashes? What could have done all this?

He tilted his head as he examined what he could, trying to make sense of the scene before him. He rubbed at his temples, trying his best to ignore the Suits around him. They unnerved him too much to let him think clearly, and so he allowed his gaze to follow one of them as they walked down the wall to talk to another. His brow furrowed, something had caught his attention.

At the end of the hall there was a door, a door he knew hadn't been there before. Knowing how the building appeared inside and out, it made no sense that it would be placed there. The door, if opened, would only lead to the outside. Anyone stepping through it would plummet a few stories, break a limb, and at the very worst die from such a fall. He noticed that beneath the door there was nothing but impenetrable darkness, it not giving any quarter to hint at what may hide beyond.

Making his way toward the door, he noticed no one even acknowledged it. The Suits ignored the door completely. Curious; did they not want to investigate it? Did no one find it odd that it was there? Did no one question its location? Gingerly he placed his palms flat upon its smooth surface. His mouth slightly parted in surprise. It was freezing. Colder than what it actually was outside. He reached for the handle, giving the silver knob a gentle twist.

Akihiko frowned. Of course it was locked. Nothing could ever be easy.

"We've already inspected the wall." The boxer abruptly pushed himself away from the door, quickly looking at the stray Suit behind him. The man was young, with green eyes and dark hair tied back at the base of his neck. "We've found that there was no way the thief could have come through there. No secret door, no hole to slip through." The man slashed his hand across the air, as if doing so would prove a point. "Nothing."

"No… door?" Akihiko's eyebrow twitched, turning his gaze back toward the door behind him. It was still there, still locked, and even more puzzling to him.

The suited man gently walked to stand beside him, gloved fingers sliding up and down the surface of the wall. Akihiko stared in wonder as the man ignored what was clearly before him. Was he blind? Pulling a joke on him in poor taste? "See?" The man brought his closed fist up and gently tapped on the door's surface. The sound was not that of polished wood, but of the marble that had been there before. The noise faintly echoed in the hall.

Akihiko blinked.

The young boxer forced a smile, the expression not meeting his eyes as he conceded to the man, "Point taken." There was no doubt about it; he was losing his mind, seeing things that he couldn't un-see. There was nothing left for him here he thought, turning on his heels and heading for the stairs.

-!-!-!-!-

"The hell you mean her ashes were taken?" Shinjiro was pacing back and forth behind the couch the ladies (Fuuka, Yukari, and Mitsuru) were sitting on. Both hands frantically ran through his dark, coarse hair, his teeth bared in a pained grimace.

"It is as I said." Mitsuru sat on the edge of the couch with her legs crossed at her ankles; her manicured hands were lying neatly in her lap. She looked at Akihiko while she spoke, though her words were meant for Shinjiro. "In the middle of the night, minutes after midnight, someone managed to slip in and steal her remains. There are no signs of a forced entry, no evidence at all that someone broke into the building, save for her missing remains and the destroyed door to her ashes compartment."

"Destroyed?" Fuuka clutched at the fabric of her shirt as she looked around the room taking in the other's reactions to the sad news. Junpei was on the same level of angry as Shinjiro, seething as he sat on the sofa across them. Ken was sitting in the armchair gritting his teeth as he clenched his tiny fists. Akihiko was staring outside the window adjacent to them all, his back turned to them.

"Yes. The door itself was utterly destroyed." Mitsuru pushed back a stray lock of burgundy hair behind an ear with a delicate finger, "Pieces of it were littered in and around the compartment's surroundings."

Launching from his seat, Junpei towered over Mitsuru. Impassively, she stared back at him, unfazed by the anger rolling off him in waves. "Why? Why did you wait until now to tell us?" His hand swept around, "It ain't like this was something you just happened to find out on the way home from work." He adjusted his blue cap as he glowered at the woman. Hadn't they all deserved to know what was going on from the get go?

"I waited," She arched an eyebrow at him, the dangerous intent in her eyes urging Junpei to sit back down. He ignored it, "because I thought I would have additional information to give you by the time I arrived." She lowered her eyes to her hands that rested serenely in her lap, hating that she had so little to offer. "Unfortunately, those assisting me from the Kirijo group and Kurosawa-san had nothing else to offer."

With both hands, Shinjiro grabbed onto the sofa, his knuckles turning white from the intense grip. "That's bullshit," he growled, glaring holes into the back of Mitsuru's head.

Quickly, she rose to her feet, standing as regal as an empress. There was a stoic gleam to her eyes, and it was clear her patience was running thin. "It is what I have!" She hated not having all the answers for them, especially when she was the one that felt it was her duty to let everyone know despite that. Mitsuru cleared her throat, straightening her sleeves as she eyed them all, "However, that doesn't mean there isn't anything we aren't capable of discovering on our own."

Junpei sank back down in his seat, the upper half of his face hidden by the flap of his baseball cap, tapping his fingers against the armrest in agitation. "Oh yeah? And what do you want us to do?" He barked, "Play detective?"

Akihiko briefly looked over his shoulder.

"Precisely." Mitsuru nodded, crossing her arms as she mused, "We have to see what information is attainable within our own resources." She looked to them all with pleading eyes, "Something is out there. We may not have a lead but I am confident we will find it and it will surely lead us to Arisato."

Yukari offered Junpei a smile, trying to render some cheer with her words, "It'll be just like last year, Junpei. Instead of investigating ghost stories it'll be investigating urn snatching."

"No it won't," was his simple reply.

The boxer stood by Mitsuru, placing a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently with his fingers, "Shinji and I can stake out Port Island Station." If Shinjiro had heard what Akihiko had said, he made no show of it as he leaned against the wall away from them.

"Then I guess Junpei and I will see what we can find at school." Junpei nodded absentmindedly with Yukari's suggestion.

Ken slid off his chair, the anger that had coiled within him seeming to subside for now. He leaned forward, hands flat on the coffee table as he looked up at the young head of the Kirijo Group. "I'll see what I can find around town." A smirk played along his lips, "It's amazing what adults will say when they think no one is listening."

Mitsuru looked to Fuuka, the shy girl straightened in her seat. "Fuuka I want you to see what you can dig up. Anything at all as long as it is relevant."

"Y-yes, Senpai!"

Their roles decided, they each left the dorm. Shinjiro and Akihiko had decided to head to the Port Island Station right away. Shinji was silent during the ride, even going as far as shutting off the radio in his car. Aki could only stare out the window, hoping against all odds that they'd find at least something. Anything.

-!-!-!-!-

There had been nothing. Not a single trace of information that could be linked back to the urn's whereabouts. A few rumors of note had begun to circulate about who was bold enough to anger the dead, but those had quickly lost all legitimacy once their whereabouts during that particular evening were investigated. In the end, day one of investigating turned up nothing of importance.

Akihiko had returned to his empty apartment, defeated. Not even in death could Kieka find peace. He hoped her remains stayed safe, still intact in the urn. Perhaps it was a harmless prank and the next day her ashes would suddenly reappear. He could only hope.

The lone man slid his coat off his arms, hanging it on the hook by his door. With weary limbs, he slowly began to discard his clothing, pulling his shirt over his arms, his abs rippling as he did so. He walked toward his bed, tossing the piece of clothing toward his hamper. He rubbed his hands over his arms, his biceps firm beneath his touch, lowering them down his lean sides till his fingers met the waist of his pants. His belt buckle was unclasped and zipper undone, khaki pants sliding down his long toned legs forming a pool of clothing atop his socked feet.

He stretched his arms to the ceiling, muscles flexing and moving beneath his pale skin. He rolled his head around his shoulders, easing today's stress from his body as he walked over to his dresser. He leaned to the side as he pulled open a drawer, taking out a nightshirt and thin cotton pants for the night.

The fabric felt cool and fresh against his skin as it slid into place over his form. Gingerly, he lowered himself onto his bed, the plush mattress beneath yielding to his weight. With a sigh, he shifted onto his back, cradling his head with his arms. His curtains were slightly parted, the lamplight from outside had yet to turn on, allowing him a small view of stars that dusted the dark sky beautifully.

A pained expression flitted over his features, his brow furrowing and the corners of his lips drawing into a deep frown. Even in death Kieka could have no peace, and he hated the powerlessness that it held over him.

What were the chances that her ashes remained intact within the urn? Would they find it within a matter of days? Weeks? Months? He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and have the answer unveiled before him. He wanted her back safe, restored… alive. He closed his eyes, the shaky exhale coming unexpected.

The thick veil of his lashes parted; there was no longer the view of a window and curtains teasing him with a starry nightscape. Instead, his tired eyes met slanted, half-lidded, lemon hued eyes. They scanned Akihiko's features coldly, as if calculating his worth.

His fist flew out fast toward the stranger, adrenaline thundering through his veins while gritting his teeth. The man caught it effortlessly within a snowy white glove, his handsome features unflinching, trapping Akihiko beneath him as he reached over and smoothly caught the boxer's other arm.

"Who the hell are you!" Akihiko struggled, baring his teeth in an angry snarl, steel eyes flashing dangerously. He hated that the man above him held him down with what appeared to be no effort at all. Aki was by no means a weak man, not at all. "Get off me!"

The man above him stared impassively over Aki. His white hair was neatly combed back, and a velvet blue bellboy hat sat on his head. He wore an obsidian black shirt, the starched jacket and tie matching the rich color of his hat. The stranger's hips pinned Aki in place, his powerful hands holding his prisoner's wrists firmly to the plush mattress beneath them. He leaned in, inhaling deeply; Akihiko's lip curled up in anger, frustration.

Just as Akihiko was anticipating doing what Shinji did best, the stranger's words halted Akihiko's struggling mid head-butt. His dulcet toned words were laced with satisfaction, hands sliding up the boxer's arms and shoulders, gently cupping Akihiko's cheeks as a tender smile spread across his perfectly sculpted lips.

"I smell her on you."

Dun dun dunnnnnnn! Things are starting to pick up! Ashes are gone! Shinji is super pissed! Aki is being held down by a hot Theodore! Whatever will happennnnn!

Major thanks go to the readers and reviewers. Thanks so much for such sweet praise I am so undeserving of. Akihiko is probably blushing from how often I envisioned his naked body as I tried to put it all down in words. :3 Yum.

Much love goes out to IceyCold, my best friend and beta and my muse. She keeps my head leveled and down to earth before it escapes to the clouds, never to return.

I hope you all enjoy this latest installment! Until next chapter. :D

LW

edit: Drew this little companion picture to go along with this chapter! Eheheheheehe go to ladywinde(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/I-Smell-Her-On-You-181111938

Just replace the (dot)s with .

:3