The plane soared over the Pacific Ocean, on toward Asia, then Europe--to the beautiful Italia.
Robin's eyes flickered open at the plane's descent built the pressure in her ears. She stretched her arms above her, catlike, and gave a jaw- and ear-cracking yawn.
Amon gazed at her, eyes cold but mind voicing thoughts of compassion and protectiveness. The plane jolted to a stop, taxiing to the gate. Before they disembarked, one thought stood out foremost in Amon's head: 'We're fugitives, the both of us, and if Robin uses her Craft we'll be found. I'm our sole defense.' That would have to do.
Amon watched Robin's profile as her eyes strayed to the airport beyond. Quickly shaking his head to rid himself of unwarranted thoughts, he grabbed her hand and tugged her up, clutching their luggage to him. Out into the waiting area they walked, his easy strides forcing her struggling ones. As soon as they were beyond security he dropped her hand as though it had bitten him.
Robin glanced up at him, marveling at the sharp planes of his face. "Is something the matter?" Her mouth curved in the slightest of smiles and her voice carried tones of melancholy strain.
Amon's eyes never wavered from his constant scrutiny of their surroundings, but he paused in his steps to murmur, for her ears alone, "Do you trust me?" Her eyes sharpened. She heard herself reply, "Of course I trust you," and she gripped his sleeve, turning him to her. Her heart sank when she saw the dew in his eyes. Robin clasped his hand, murmuring intently, "I trust you with my life. Can't you tell?"
Robin bowed her head over his hand, holding it to her mouth, and curled closer to him as his free arm snaked around her waist. Amon enfolded her to him, never feeling like he could sanely let go of her. Staring down at her, he blinked, and winced when he saw droplets appear on top of her ginger head. He buried his face in her hair, letting her shake in his grasp as she laced their fingers together.
Amon pulled back a bit, clutching her hand as his eyes scanned above her head. "We should get going. Naira said he'd have a car waiting for us in the garage." He released her hand, a tad reluctantly, she thought, and strode towards the stairs that led to their transportation.
Robin stood, sadly staring after him, then shook her head and rushed to catch up. Still staring at him, watching his slight weave as he walked and the sway of his shoulders, she thought, 'He's changed so much. Did I cause that? Was that my doing?' So lost in her thoughts was she that she slammed right into him when he came to an abrupt halt. She faltered for a moment, losing and regaining her balance.
There were shadows in the tall building, and they unnerved Robin. There were whispers and hints at danger and illusion, but there was no solidity to her doubts. She paused a moment, staring at a particularly active shade, and felt a trace of fear lance through her lungs. The only footsteps she heard for sure were hers and those of her partner's, but echoes of something unsure gave her an eerie feeling, as though someone was staring at the back of her head. She shivered discreetly but violently. Her hair danced before her eyes, outlining a wraith cloaked in dark.
The dark man behind her popped the trunk open and stowed their bags inside. Closing it, he walked to the driver's side, heels resonating in the emptiness. As he clicked the door handle, he glanced at Robin, who stood motionless, her head cocked and eyes unreadable. In a low voice, he murmured, "What do you see?"
Her head snapped to the side, eyes piercing through him momentarily before losing the fire and once again adopting a neutral expression. "Nothing, Amon. I . . . see . . . nothing." Her shoes clicked on the concrete. Her hand touched the passenger door handle and pulled.
Amon could tell that her thoughts were burdened by fear and suspicion, and not without reason, but he felt that she would tell him if she knew some foul game was afoot. He dropped into the car and stretched his legs, making legroom where there was previously none.
Robin's hand was still on the jamb-lever. Her hand prickled, and her eyes ignited as she felt a brush of wind on the back of her neck. Turning, she saw bloody eyes. Red eyes. Bloodshot eyes. Following them, she was turned back to the car, and around again, and again. Suddenly, her head was knocked forward as one of the apparitions bludgeoned the back of her head. She heard a shout as her forehead slammed against the roof of the car, and she slid down, slowly, until she lay on the ground.
Amon watched bemusedly worried, as she spun round one, two times, outside the car. Then he heard the scrape of feet and surged out of the car, nearly tearing the door off its hinges. He lunged at the thing, then, breaking its neck, turned sharply, crying out, as he heard a dull crunch. His eyes landed on a half-conscious Robin, who slithered down the side of the auto to reveal another of the attackers. This one glared malevolently at him, launching itself across the machine and brandishing a metal bat. Amon glared in rage ad shoved the instrument aside, planting his fist firmly in the thing's nose and ignoring the blood that spurted over his wrist. That done, he rushed to his fallen partner and stared in shock, dropping to his knees.
Robin's pale auburn hair was darkened by the blood that poured out of the wound on the back of her head. Pressing his lips firmly together, he picked her up at an agonizingly slow pace, being careful to cradle her head and not jolt it. He moved carefully to the car, still on his knees.
Her eyes quivered open, and he found himself staring into green. He froze. The look on her face was one of utter pain and utter trust. He felt a burden drop onto his shoulders. She believed that he could protect her with all her being -- but what if he couldn't? The green disappeared behind skin, and Amon was released to slip her into the car.
Shutting the door as quietly as he could, he stood again, turning to face the remaining assailant.
This one's robes whispered smugly and condescendingly as the thing stalked around in an arc, surveying the tall, strong fighter that had so easily disposed of two of his men. This creature, a thing of the night and of sinew and steel, was superior to those two. They were weak, compared to him, and to fight this fight, his caliber was standard.
Amon circled, tracing his opponent's steps in symmetry. The way the other moved was steady; the man trusted his feet to take him where he needed to be. He would not falter. Amon felt his veins expand as adrenaline swarmed through them and had to constrain his movements; he wanted to move, to attack! But he felt the other's eyes on his form, and cut his gaze through the gloom. His lungs jumped erratically -- there was no one there!
A low chuckle echoed across the cavern. Amon whirled, eyes downcast to catch dislodged stones, and clenched his palms. His gun was in his pocket. He reached and spun, pistol reflecting the damp light into empty air. Amon reeled again, positioning his firearm, and again, growing anxious as he saw no one. The faintest brush of wind on his hand and he was turning again. Beads of sweat flew off his brow and into the atmosphere. His eyes were strained. He felt them bulging slightly, as though by popping out they could see more, might be able to catch a glimpse of the intruder. His hands shook, and his knees were weak. He knew that if he kept up this constant movement he would collapse.
He stood. Still and silent, his shoulders relaxed and breathing forcedly even, his spine straightened and his eyes fell closed. His senses were acutely tuned to now. His ears caught the quiver of footsteps. His eyes, now open, noted the faint hem of a cloak. His nose smelt the rancid edge of sweat and blood. He could defeat this. He had to -- for Robin.
All or nothing. Amon twisted, his hidden blade blazing out of its sheath and slashing through cloth. The creature gasped, the only acknowledgment of his failure, before Amon's gun was level with his eyes. Between the brows, sweat and blood grouped under a mask. The masquerade was over. Amon jerked the black mask off, revealing a relatively young face. This was an emotionless child, and it was all Amon could do to keep from placing the gun between his brows and pulling the trigger. However, he merely hauled back and smashed the butt of his knife into the boy's skull. He dropped, eyes rolling back and head hitting the asphalt with a sickening thud.
Robin laid her head against the blood-slicked seat, brows knotted together as the car bounced its way toward their destination. Amon stared through the windshield, handing her a cloth that appeared in his hand. "Here, use this. It'll serve as a tourniquet until we can get medical assistance." His heart lurched when he glanced over and saw the sore smile on her lips. He knew her head must hurt like Hell itself.
"I'm sorry, Robin. We'll get it looked at when we reach the convent." Her head bobbed slightly, and her eyes drifted shut. Amon panicked. "No, Robin, wake up!"
Robin snapped her gaze to him. His voice had sounded . . . strange. Worried? He relaxed visibly when he saw the green. "Don't sleep, please. Try to stay awake."
Robin complied -- or tried to. Her eyelids felt like they were weighted with lead. Her lashes drooped, lower and lower, then her psyche woke her up again. 'Oh, no, wait, that was Amon's voice. . . . No wonder it sounded so masculine . . .'
She opened her eyes under protest as the car slowed and stopped. Glaring out her window, she murmured, "The convent." Her heart throbbed in fear. Who would she find here?
Robin dropped her head back into her hands, massaging her temples as Amon walked around to her side. Her door opened, and Amon held his hands out to her. "Take my hands."
She nodded slowly, closing her eyes. She shifted her feet to the side, out of the car, and quickly grasped his hands with hers. His fingers closed, steadying her, as she paused and let her head clear. She leaned forward and stood, rising bit by bit.
Amon placed a hand behind her back, urging her forward at a snail's pace. They walked up the long driveway. Robin stopped short when they reached the steps; thought they were short, they involved more movement than she believed she could give.
Amon pulled her closer, his arm around her shoulders and other hand in hers. He silently willed her to take a step, and he leaned forward slightly. She stepped. And stopped. Her eyes flashed open and up to his. They begged him, pleading and in pain. He nodded.
Swiftly, he swung her up into his arms, stopping cold when she gasped. Robin buried her head in his shoulder, threading her fingers tightly into his jacket. She breathed deep, then nodded, and he proceeded to glide his way up the long, flat steps.
As they reached them, the tall, ornate wooden doors swung open inward. A priest stood in the entrance, hands arrayed and hair askew. He straightened quickly, staring at the couple with gleaming eyes. In an awed voice, he murmured, "Pettirisso Sena?" Robin lifted her head up sharply, wincing at the sudden action. She looked the priest over and finally replied, "Si . . ."
The old man smiled, features breaking into sunshine. His eyes were alight with tears and his voice was choked as he clasped his hands in front of him and declared in a heavy accent, "Mi chiamo, it is so good to finally see you again, well and alive."
Amon, inpatient to get her looked at, cut in, asserting that, "She's been hurt. We need your medical assistance." He shifted on his feet while awaiting the man's instantaneous answer.
"Oh! Yes, Sister Hope," he turned, gesturing a woman in a habit forward, "will show you to your room, and will also get you a first aid kit." He nodded at the woman, and she bowed in return.
Sister Hope gestured for Amon to follow her, and she walked quickly but sedately to a door up a flight of stairs and down the hall. Opening the door, she stepped back to allow him to edge in sideways. As he laid Robin down gently on the bed, the Sister placed a medical kit on the night stand. He murmured, "Thank you, Sister." Her reply was soft: "Il vostro benvenuto." She bowed and turned, walking out and closing the door.
Amon settled carefully on the bed beside his young partner, leaning forward to assess the wound as she sat up. His fingers grazed over the gash, making her wince. He murmured something apologetic and opened the medical supplies. Tending her was by far one of the most distracting things he'd ever done.
It took a full ten minutes for him to finish, and when he did she leaned forward against him. Her forehead rested lightly against his chest, and she slid with him as he lay back on the bed. Her fingers danced over his jaw as she murmured, "I'm sorry, Amon."
His hand paused. As he watched her, her eyes moved under their lids, and he continued stroking her hair. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, falling into an exhausted slumber.
Sorry Guys for no updating in a while! These few weeks have been HELL! I have at least a week left of school and I'm per paring for finals! I promise that when summer arrives there will be more updates! I'm gonna update maybe by the end of next week. This month so far as been hell, The 3rd was the 5 month anniversary of my best friend's death (she was killed a car crash), and yeah it's been hard these past few months! To all my reviewers, Thanks and I love ya! To Katie, thanks again and I also love ya!
Robin's eyes flickered open at the plane's descent built the pressure in her ears. She stretched her arms above her, catlike, and gave a jaw- and ear-cracking yawn.
Amon gazed at her, eyes cold but mind voicing thoughts of compassion and protectiveness. The plane jolted to a stop, taxiing to the gate. Before they disembarked, one thought stood out foremost in Amon's head: 'We're fugitives, the both of us, and if Robin uses her Craft we'll be found. I'm our sole defense.' That would have to do.
Amon watched Robin's profile as her eyes strayed to the airport beyond. Quickly shaking his head to rid himself of unwarranted thoughts, he grabbed her hand and tugged her up, clutching their luggage to him. Out into the waiting area they walked, his easy strides forcing her struggling ones. As soon as they were beyond security he dropped her hand as though it had bitten him.
Robin glanced up at him, marveling at the sharp planes of his face. "Is something the matter?" Her mouth curved in the slightest of smiles and her voice carried tones of melancholy strain.
Amon's eyes never wavered from his constant scrutiny of their surroundings, but he paused in his steps to murmur, for her ears alone, "Do you trust me?" Her eyes sharpened. She heard herself reply, "Of course I trust you," and she gripped his sleeve, turning him to her. Her heart sank when she saw the dew in his eyes. Robin clasped his hand, murmuring intently, "I trust you with my life. Can't you tell?"
Robin bowed her head over his hand, holding it to her mouth, and curled closer to him as his free arm snaked around her waist. Amon enfolded her to him, never feeling like he could sanely let go of her. Staring down at her, he blinked, and winced when he saw droplets appear on top of her ginger head. He buried his face in her hair, letting her shake in his grasp as she laced their fingers together.
Amon pulled back a bit, clutching her hand as his eyes scanned above her head. "We should get going. Naira said he'd have a car waiting for us in the garage." He released her hand, a tad reluctantly, she thought, and strode towards the stairs that led to their transportation.
Robin stood, sadly staring after him, then shook her head and rushed to catch up. Still staring at him, watching his slight weave as he walked and the sway of his shoulders, she thought, 'He's changed so much. Did I cause that? Was that my doing?' So lost in her thoughts was she that she slammed right into him when he came to an abrupt halt. She faltered for a moment, losing and regaining her balance.
There were shadows in the tall building, and they unnerved Robin. There were whispers and hints at danger and illusion, but there was no solidity to her doubts. She paused a moment, staring at a particularly active shade, and felt a trace of fear lance through her lungs. The only footsteps she heard for sure were hers and those of her partner's, but echoes of something unsure gave her an eerie feeling, as though someone was staring at the back of her head. She shivered discreetly but violently. Her hair danced before her eyes, outlining a wraith cloaked in dark.
The dark man behind her popped the trunk open and stowed their bags inside. Closing it, he walked to the driver's side, heels resonating in the emptiness. As he clicked the door handle, he glanced at Robin, who stood motionless, her head cocked and eyes unreadable. In a low voice, he murmured, "What do you see?"
Her head snapped to the side, eyes piercing through him momentarily before losing the fire and once again adopting a neutral expression. "Nothing, Amon. I . . . see . . . nothing." Her shoes clicked on the concrete. Her hand touched the passenger door handle and pulled.
Amon could tell that her thoughts were burdened by fear and suspicion, and not without reason, but he felt that she would tell him if she knew some foul game was afoot. He dropped into the car and stretched his legs, making legroom where there was previously none.
Robin's hand was still on the jamb-lever. Her hand prickled, and her eyes ignited as she felt a brush of wind on the back of her neck. Turning, she saw bloody eyes. Red eyes. Bloodshot eyes. Following them, she was turned back to the car, and around again, and again. Suddenly, her head was knocked forward as one of the apparitions bludgeoned the back of her head. She heard a shout as her forehead slammed against the roof of the car, and she slid down, slowly, until she lay on the ground.
Amon watched bemusedly worried, as she spun round one, two times, outside the car. Then he heard the scrape of feet and surged out of the car, nearly tearing the door off its hinges. He lunged at the thing, then, breaking its neck, turned sharply, crying out, as he heard a dull crunch. His eyes landed on a half-conscious Robin, who slithered down the side of the auto to reveal another of the attackers. This one glared malevolently at him, launching itself across the machine and brandishing a metal bat. Amon glared in rage ad shoved the instrument aside, planting his fist firmly in the thing's nose and ignoring the blood that spurted over his wrist. That done, he rushed to his fallen partner and stared in shock, dropping to his knees.
Robin's pale auburn hair was darkened by the blood that poured out of the wound on the back of her head. Pressing his lips firmly together, he picked her up at an agonizingly slow pace, being careful to cradle her head and not jolt it. He moved carefully to the car, still on his knees.
Her eyes quivered open, and he found himself staring into green. He froze. The look on her face was one of utter pain and utter trust. He felt a burden drop onto his shoulders. She believed that he could protect her with all her being -- but what if he couldn't? The green disappeared behind skin, and Amon was released to slip her into the car.
Shutting the door as quietly as he could, he stood again, turning to face the remaining assailant.
This one's robes whispered smugly and condescendingly as the thing stalked around in an arc, surveying the tall, strong fighter that had so easily disposed of two of his men. This creature, a thing of the night and of sinew and steel, was superior to those two. They were weak, compared to him, and to fight this fight, his caliber was standard.
Amon circled, tracing his opponent's steps in symmetry. The way the other moved was steady; the man trusted his feet to take him where he needed to be. He would not falter. Amon felt his veins expand as adrenaline swarmed through them and had to constrain his movements; he wanted to move, to attack! But he felt the other's eyes on his form, and cut his gaze through the gloom. His lungs jumped erratically -- there was no one there!
A low chuckle echoed across the cavern. Amon whirled, eyes downcast to catch dislodged stones, and clenched his palms. His gun was in his pocket. He reached and spun, pistol reflecting the damp light into empty air. Amon reeled again, positioning his firearm, and again, growing anxious as he saw no one. The faintest brush of wind on his hand and he was turning again. Beads of sweat flew off his brow and into the atmosphere. His eyes were strained. He felt them bulging slightly, as though by popping out they could see more, might be able to catch a glimpse of the intruder. His hands shook, and his knees were weak. He knew that if he kept up this constant movement he would collapse.
He stood. Still and silent, his shoulders relaxed and breathing forcedly even, his spine straightened and his eyes fell closed. His senses were acutely tuned to now. His ears caught the quiver of footsteps. His eyes, now open, noted the faint hem of a cloak. His nose smelt the rancid edge of sweat and blood. He could defeat this. He had to -- for Robin.
All or nothing. Amon twisted, his hidden blade blazing out of its sheath and slashing through cloth. The creature gasped, the only acknowledgment of his failure, before Amon's gun was level with his eyes. Between the brows, sweat and blood grouped under a mask. The masquerade was over. Amon jerked the black mask off, revealing a relatively young face. This was an emotionless child, and it was all Amon could do to keep from placing the gun between his brows and pulling the trigger. However, he merely hauled back and smashed the butt of his knife into the boy's skull. He dropped, eyes rolling back and head hitting the asphalt with a sickening thud.
Robin laid her head against the blood-slicked seat, brows knotted together as the car bounced its way toward their destination. Amon stared through the windshield, handing her a cloth that appeared in his hand. "Here, use this. It'll serve as a tourniquet until we can get medical assistance." His heart lurched when he glanced over and saw the sore smile on her lips. He knew her head must hurt like Hell itself.
"I'm sorry, Robin. We'll get it looked at when we reach the convent." Her head bobbed slightly, and her eyes drifted shut. Amon panicked. "No, Robin, wake up!"
Robin snapped her gaze to him. His voice had sounded . . . strange. Worried? He relaxed visibly when he saw the green. "Don't sleep, please. Try to stay awake."
Robin complied -- or tried to. Her eyelids felt like they were weighted with lead. Her lashes drooped, lower and lower, then her psyche woke her up again. 'Oh, no, wait, that was Amon's voice. . . . No wonder it sounded so masculine . . .'
She opened her eyes under protest as the car slowed and stopped. Glaring out her window, she murmured, "The convent." Her heart throbbed in fear. Who would she find here?
Robin dropped her head back into her hands, massaging her temples as Amon walked around to her side. Her door opened, and Amon held his hands out to her. "Take my hands."
She nodded slowly, closing her eyes. She shifted her feet to the side, out of the car, and quickly grasped his hands with hers. His fingers closed, steadying her, as she paused and let her head clear. She leaned forward and stood, rising bit by bit.
Amon placed a hand behind her back, urging her forward at a snail's pace. They walked up the long driveway. Robin stopped short when they reached the steps; thought they were short, they involved more movement than she believed she could give.
Amon pulled her closer, his arm around her shoulders and other hand in hers. He silently willed her to take a step, and he leaned forward slightly. She stepped. And stopped. Her eyes flashed open and up to his. They begged him, pleading and in pain. He nodded.
Swiftly, he swung her up into his arms, stopping cold when she gasped. Robin buried her head in his shoulder, threading her fingers tightly into his jacket. She breathed deep, then nodded, and he proceeded to glide his way up the long, flat steps.
As they reached them, the tall, ornate wooden doors swung open inward. A priest stood in the entrance, hands arrayed and hair askew. He straightened quickly, staring at the couple with gleaming eyes. In an awed voice, he murmured, "Pettirisso Sena?" Robin lifted her head up sharply, wincing at the sudden action. She looked the priest over and finally replied, "Si . . ."
The old man smiled, features breaking into sunshine. His eyes were alight with tears and his voice was choked as he clasped his hands in front of him and declared in a heavy accent, "Mi chiamo, it is so good to finally see you again, well and alive."
Amon, inpatient to get her looked at, cut in, asserting that, "She's been hurt. We need your medical assistance." He shifted on his feet while awaiting the man's instantaneous answer.
"Oh! Yes, Sister Hope," he turned, gesturing a woman in a habit forward, "will show you to your room, and will also get you a first aid kit." He nodded at the woman, and she bowed in return.
Sister Hope gestured for Amon to follow her, and she walked quickly but sedately to a door up a flight of stairs and down the hall. Opening the door, she stepped back to allow him to edge in sideways. As he laid Robin down gently on the bed, the Sister placed a medical kit on the night stand. He murmured, "Thank you, Sister." Her reply was soft: "Il vostro benvenuto." She bowed and turned, walking out and closing the door.
Amon settled carefully on the bed beside his young partner, leaning forward to assess the wound as she sat up. His fingers grazed over the gash, making her wince. He murmured something apologetic and opened the medical supplies. Tending her was by far one of the most distracting things he'd ever done.
It took a full ten minutes for him to finish, and when he did she leaned forward against him. Her forehead rested lightly against his chest, and she slid with him as he lay back on the bed. Her fingers danced over his jaw as she murmured, "I'm sorry, Amon."
His hand paused. As he watched her, her eyes moved under their lids, and he continued stroking her hair. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, falling into an exhausted slumber.
Sorry Guys for no updating in a while! These few weeks have been HELL! I have at least a week left of school and I'm per paring for finals! I promise that when summer arrives there will be more updates! I'm gonna update maybe by the end of next week. This month so far as been hell, The 3rd was the 5 month anniversary of my best friend's death (she was killed a car crash), and yeah it's been hard these past few months! To all my reviewers, Thanks and I love ya! To Katie, thanks again and I also love ya!