Not sure what else to say. Thought it was about time I'd put the new chapter up, for anyone who may be reading and keeping up. Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave a review, no matter what you have to say. I'm fully accepting of compliments, criticisms, of if you just want to say hello. Enjoy chapter three.


III - Longing

Leyla quietly stepped down the hallway, heels touching the floor lightly. She stopped when she reached the balcony that overlooked the lobby; there was hardly anyone there, and saw only a couple tables occupied. Not as if there were likely to be more, though. It was past midnight, so the majority of the people staying at the inn would be fast asleep, and like she expected, she was not one of them. Her eyes wouldn't stay shut whenever she would lie down, and when they did, it only made it easier for painful memories to come to her. Leyla gripped the railing and made her way down, attempting not to lose her balance from incurable drowsiness. The steps creaked, causing a few heads that were awake to turn up towards her, who only had the noises of the desolate streets outside before she arrived. Only two pairs of eyes stayed on her.

She reached a familiar table, shoved against the staircase she had just descended, and sat at a chair already pulled out. She slouched while crossing one leg over the other, and sunk in her seat. It was, really, an unbecoming habit of a women with her looks. Orange eyes rolled up to the two sitting on the other side of the circular table, both leaning back in similar exhaustion, but without the same depression. Neither paid much mind to her, as Leyla's insomnia was something they had learned to deal with, but they were not above acknowledgment. There were however, above initiating it.

"Are we too old for hello's now?" Leyla muttered, half-sarcastically, pulling off a glove with diligence, then laying it gently on the table. Beginning to work on the right hand, one of the two spoke out, Raimyd. Of the three present, he was the newest.

"Nah, we just didn't want to break the ambiance." He smirked to himself, then looked up. "You know the weather can be a downer, but hi."

She smiled a little, which was not a rare feat in the company of friends. It was to her knowledge that Raimyd was a fan of sunshine and a warmer climate, as he had moved to Twilight Town from some place in the south shortly before dying here. It was very fortunate that he made acquaintances, not knowing how to live off the city like Gabryl did, a native to the town. Leyla realized it must get to him when the clouds act like a permanent ceiling. Some continual sun, at least for a couple days, wouldn't kill anyone, after all. The irony in that thought hit her a moment later.

"Not to mention it's about one, girl. You should be getting some sleep, you know you deserve some rest right now."

Both glanced at the third party member, Medea, sitting defiantly taller, dark-skinned, with her equally dark hair hanging over an eye. Leyla scowled, not wild about having others telling her what her priorities should be in the position she was in.

"Maybe I wasn't tired. Couldn't sleep."

"Or maybe you were thinking about him too much." Medea kept a serious look, whilst the other girl just closed her eyes, sighing. Raimyd's eyes flicked between both.

"By the way, we heard. We're very sorry for your loss." He rose an eyebrow on the second half of the apology, though it was more like an exaggerated statement. Sympathy was not either of the three's forte. However, this was probably because it was directed more towards the woman seated next to him, who acted a little more blunt. Raimyd recomposed himself, and tapped the table with a finger to get Leyla's attention. She kept her eyes closed though. "Any word on what happened out on the field? All Ansem told us was about Lucre."

Leyla sucked in her breath, taking hold of the arms of her chair and pushing herself up straight. She set an elbow on the table, on the palm of which she rested her chin. Half-opened eyes looked at the tabletop, covered in rings from drinks being set on them, and she reviewed the day. It came to her attention that she had ignored most of it, except for Lucre's death and the general existence of the new Reaper she found. His name was not even clear in her mind yet.

"I, um." She sat up straight, it wasn't very comfortable speaking like that. "Found a new guy while I was out. A Reaper." She added on that last bit when Raimyd gave her a strange look, but he became more inquisitive than double-minded.

"Oh, yeah. Saw him with you when you got back. How is he?"

She winced a little, and tried to remember. Oh, that's right. He was completely incompetent.

"His name is Gabryl, and the kid's just…he's been dead for some time apparently and he's just a blank slate. Doesn't know anything. Couldn't even fly." She rolled her eyes, but her audience was a little more tolerant.

"Well, maybe the right circumstances to learn never came." Medea noted logically. She knew that Leyla was upset, but she didn't need to take it out on the new guy. She was also becoming suspicious that the coincidence in her finding this Gabryl character after learning of Lucre's death might be having some effect on her. One that was clearly damaging how she saw this kid. Medea decided she would supervise the relationship, and make sure he that he won't get scarred. Leyla's increasing scowl foreshadowed her doing so, though.

"It's just…he's so stupid…" She buried her face back into her hand.

"Sleep'll help you, hon."

"I…can't." She crossed her arms on the table and her head collapsed into them. Some inaudible mumbles were absorbed into the wood. The three sat in the flickering, haunting candlelight from above, not noticing the handful of people wandering around, up and down the stairs, until a familiar, blue-cloaked figure made its way down the stairs on the opposite side of the room. His choice of clothing, coupled with his bright hair made him stand out. Ansem headed towards the group without a second glance, holding an ice cream bar out towards Leyla. It was bright blue, almost like his clothing, and he held the flat stick with his thumb and forefinger, staring down her downtrodden self. She lifted her head, sensing his presence, but shook her head when she saw the dessert presented to her. Normally she would feel bad about turning down his favorite treat, but she was in no mood.

"It's sweet. It might help your spirits." Ansem reasoned, in an attempt to help her, having talked down an initial rage from earlier. He knew she had decided though, and let Raimyd take the ice cream, much to the latter's enjoyment.

"Or it'll just rub salt in the wound…" Her head went back in her arms. Medea leaned forward to pat her arm in comfort. It was then Raimyd's turn to try and console her, and he spoke between the laps he took at the ice cream.

"Well." He licked. "Maybe now you can work on your own, right Ansem? I mean, wouldn't be right to just go and replace Lucre like that." His mind stayed on the concept of partnerships, waiting from some sign of approval from the old blonde man. "Unless that means I'm with the newbie." He bit a chunk of the ice cream off, and narrowed his eyes towards Leyla. "Eh, then he can stay with you."

Medea brought the back of her hand to the side of his head, almost causing him to loose a grip on the stick, but he just gripped it tighter in response. Leering at her, he fixed his hair, blonde, draping over his ears and past his jaw.

"Shush it, Rai."

"I'm just saying. I'm not, um, 'qualified' enough to handle him anyway, am I?" There was a look of satisfaction on his face, feeling as though he had gotten out of watching over Gabryl, and he licked silently. The rest were not as entertained as he was.

"I will have to work on the pairings, yes, but Leyla, you most likely won't be working directly with anyone. Perhaps you four can make up a fine group."

As he predicted, all three of them gave some semblance of a pout, and shifted uncomfortably, at the mention of a fourth joining them. While Leyla's bias towards Gabryl was clear, Raimyd and Medea hid their own better. They too were on close terms with Lucre, and did not want someone to replace him, and so soon. They hoped would be capable of accepting him faster than Leyla was, and that she wouldn't lash out too hard at the kid. They had both integrity and a person to keep safe, and said this to each other, wordless, giving a slight nod. Raimyd bit down on the bare stick, and Leyla stood, staring outside through the glass doors, between the stairs. Nothing inspiring came from the stars that were barely visible, like she had hoped. Wasn't looking up to the sky for some kind of assistance the cliché thing that always helped?

"You know what. Sleep sounds fine right now. In fact, I wouldn't mind locking myself up in my room and not waking up for years. Maybe someone will wake me when everyone I know is dead. Then I can just start over, no pressure." There was a strange hysteria in her voice. Almost threatening. She turned on her heel, making haste towards the stairs, and not trying to quiet her movements like she had coming down. Ansem stood in place, but wore a mask of concern. Raimyd worried of Gabryl screwing up everything. Medea contemplated an unstable Leyla.

Gabryl dreamt.

He studied his surroundings. They were fairly familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Said finger, and clothing, were splattered in blood, which shocked Gabryl more in that he could not remember attacking anyone rather than the presence of it. He touched his stained arm with his other hand, but it was dry, and by how much it had set into his sleeve, Gabryl assumed that he had not washed his clothes in days. Odd, since he preferred to stay clean. There was next to no memory of this in his mind, but then why did he feel like he had been through this before? Gabryl knew this had to be a dream, since he was previously in a room assigned to him in a badly-kept hotel room. Therefore he reasoned it was a reoccurring dream, which would cause the feeling of familiarity. Gabryl tried to sit up, grunting, his limbs feeling like iron weights, and his joints stone. He had to have dreamt this before, but dreams that one experience over and over are not usually good ones. Maybe this would be a rare case, or it would be some kind of haunting event that was going to replay in his subconscious. Then again, something that important would not be forgotten so easily. His attempt at applying logic hurt his head, and all this deduction took place only over a matter of seconds. The seconds after jogged his mind.

Forcing his heavy limbs to lift himself, his eyes suddenly widened in shock, and every nerve in his body sent messages to his brain at once, all of which were signals of pain, agony, and excruciating hurt.

"Gah…ah…!" He choked. His initial exclamation quickly diminished as his body became too exhausted to make any noise. Gabryl's voice just stopped working, and he feared his breathing would as well if he kept up the physical strain. He had to ignore the screaming in his brain long enough to focus on stopping his body from torturing itself, and somehow his will to stand up ceased, the result of which caused his writhing body to crash back to the chair. Rasped breaths escaped his burning throat. He was afraid to try to speak. The pain still remained, though, and he coincidentally remembered why he had not left the chair in so long.

Gabryl tightened his eyes shut, as if to hide from the pain, but it was the worst behind his eyes, in his head. No, in fact, it seemed to be pulsating between his brain and abdomen. The moment he noticed the pain in his stomach was the moment it burned more than anywhere else. He wanted to vomit from the built up nausea of the situation. Why did it hurt so bad, was it from hunger? It felt like he hadn't eaten, but there were many food wrappers scattered about the room. That couldn't have been it, so Gabryl racked his memory some more. Eating seemed like it would be a good suppressant, as the pain felt like that of hunger, or that his body simply needed something. That sour, lurching feeling dominated every fiber of his being now, and he wished the food had worked. He cursed the agony he was in, and hated this feeling. It was a familiar feeling. In fact, it was the one that plagued him every day.

Gabryl blinked, and the pain was gone. He could turn his head freely, and stretch his arms out any way he liked. A smile of great relief filled his face before he noticed how weightless he felt, and looked down. Gabryl was hovering over the scene he had just been reliving, and floated just above the dream version of him. His smile wavered, but now he was himself again, with all the memories returned, and he knew exactly what was playing out before him.

The Gabryl sitting on the comfortable, blood-stained armchair who was still experiencing immense physical torture was himself from about a year and a half earlier. This Gabryl didn't know about being a Reaper as much as he did now, and had only just learned to cope with the fact that he had died a few months before. Unfortunately, this was not that case of his job to kill people, which he loathed and was horrified of. Young Gabryl could not be warned of the penalties for not fulfilling his duty, and his sense of righteousness was too strong to allow himself to kill just so he could feel a little bit better. The present Gabryl sighed as he recalled what would happen next, and wished his old self had figured out to overlook such morals early on.

A bright light flashed in the space in front of the chair, instantaneously forming a blinding column of whiteness. As Gabryl brought an arm to cover his eyes, he watched his younger self struggle to do the same. The light dimmed, and a person stood in its place, still radiating heat from whatever power it took to teleport him to their location. An older, more rationalized Gabryl knew who this was on a much less terrified note, as well as gaining some extra familiarity to the mannerisms of an Angel he had learned the previous day. Young Gabryl had no way to recognize the Angel before him however, for when he had first met an Angel, it was him going to them.

The Angel, drastically different than the one who confronted Gabryl more recently, took a step forward. He rotated his shoulders and cracked his neck, staring down the new Reaper with malice. At least, that is what one would assume was in his eyes, for this Angel was completely masked. A black-colored helmet concealed his head and any distrainable features above his neck. More black, combined with red, made up a strange suit that covered the rest of his body, making it look more muscular and almost demon-like. This entire getup though, was contrasted by his own Angel wings, which were stark white and thin, covering the width of his back by only so much. It was an odd sight, but reminded Gabryl that Angels were but stronger, higher-ranked Reapers. A change in color and a few flashy special effects didn't completely hide that fact. The Keyblade, in place of a scythe, which the angel now held directly at young Gabryl's face, confirmed his theory on this. Knowing how similar they were was a strange comfort.

The Keyblade in question was red and black, like its owner, and looked to be made up of fragments of cogs strung together. It bobbed and waved in his grip, much like his head, which told Gabryl that he was speaking to his dream self, who of course was too scared to respond. Gabryl sighed, and crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back in, He knew that the rest of this scene would be nothing, just the Angel scarring him for nearly the rest of his afterlife, prompting multiple dreams just like this one. He would make sure that Gabryl would break no more rules, and that resisting the killing impulses would only result in his erasure. Gabryl tilted his head forward, and froze. The Angel was right in front of him now, pointing the Keyblade to his nose from a perspective he had not been in before. Normally this was an out of body experience for Gabryl, but now he we genuinely afraid of what was happening, for the first time in a year an a half. The dream was to end here, wasn't it? He kept thinking this, hoping it would become reality. It did not. In an instant that felt like it took forever, the Keyblade became a sphere of light in the Angel's hand. It glowed ominously and slowly increased in size just like it had in the hand of the Angel in front of Lucre. Gabryl, trying to move, only felt his arms glued to the arms of the chair, and the rest of his body too heavy. He felt sweat on his forehead. His breath shortened. He was experiencing the one event that had sickened him more than anything; Lucre's death. The Angel raised his hand above Gabryl's vision, and he could only just see the object of his doom shine upon him, casting a horrible glare in the mask in front of him. He felt like he could see his assailant's face for a mere second, but that meant nothing. He was done for. The glow blinded his vision, and sheer white dominated his vision before he blacked out.

Then Gabryl awoke. His mouth was agape, having said in his sleep what he could not in the dream, with arms half-raised over the bed. He waved them around, taking pleasure in the freedom to move them, and brought two fingers to his forehead. Sweat. Plenty of it, which he wiped off with his sleeve. Realizing his eyes had not yet been open, Gabryl slowly brought his eyelids up, squinting at his room that was now filled with the hazy blue light of a cloudy morning. Leyla had left his curtains open, and the brightness from the outside world must have awoken him. In the back of his mind, Gabryl tried to use the open window as reason for the change in his dream, hoping that it made any sense. But it was best to ignore it, not like it had been the first time he had the nightmare of his first meeting the Angel. Gabryl pulled his knees out form under the blankets and brought his feet the floor. It was cold, and he could have sworn it was wet.

With his eyes still half-shut, a hunched over Gabryl shuffled across the room to the window. Unfortunately, he failed to see the chair that was standing in his path. His chest slammed against the floor without the reflexes of his arms to cushion the fall. He felt his nose swell a little, and as he pushed himself up, there was a noticeable odor of dampness drifting up from under him. Gabryl had to wonder how water had found its way into his room, but he decided to place it on the fact that it rained so much. Tired and now a little injured, he leaned on the dusty glass, watching a few birds glide across the sky. They made him think of Leyla's wings, and whether or not he would ever be able to fly. His eyes fell shut again, and he felt like he would fall sleep once more. The threat of the nightmare looming prevented this though, and Gabryl leaned away from the window before slumber could take him.

He showered, letting his perspiration-lined clothes air out in the meantime. The warm, rejuvenating water was a good way to put the life into Gabryl, puns aside, and let his mind work a little more efficiently. It also helped to construct his thoughts, so that he could take in the events that transpired in one day. He leaned against the shower, smiling a little, letting the spray drum against his chest. There was a reason for him to go on, now. Gabryl would experience a whole new set of adventures, escaping from his life of monotonous killing and giving dread to whomever he had contact with. It was almost as if he was reborn.

Yet, his enthusiasm was killed for the umpteenth time only moments after entering the lobby.

"Hey! New guy!" Raimyd shouted from below. He pushed a few taller men out of the way, and met Gabryl at the last stair. His head turned every now and then, eyes continuously shifting in search of someone. "Gabryl, right?"

This surprised Gabryl, who did not expect to be recognized so quickly. Hearing someone address him that bluntly made him falter.

"Um, yeah. Who are--"

"Good." Raimyd interrupted, and he grabbed Gabryl by the shoulders, pushing him to an empty table. "Wait here. We're leaving in a bit, so I'll get the others." He started walking back to the staircase, mumbling, and Gabryl could not tell if he was talking to him or himself. "Didn't think you'd wake up so early, geez…"

What confused Gabryl more about this statement was that the clock read eleven twenty. Perhaps they were just night people, and were used to sleeping in. However, before he could further contemplate the living habits of what he was sure would be his new friends (by default) there was a soft thud across the table. It was Leyla finding a place to sit, and she did so with slight unease. Gabryl observed a cup of coffee in her hand, and not even a mug, but of fine ceramic work. It was odd, as Leyla was not a person he would peg to own such a delicate item. What would also be to Gabryl's surprise, if he knew, was that this coffee cup had been refilled for the sixth time in the last eight or so hours, the surprise of course being that one could drink so much of the stuff and not be in the least bit jittery. He tone of voice showed that she was feeling quite the opposite, in fact.

"…Gabryl." She whispered, acknowledging him. Gabryl gave a nod, and turned in his seat to face her.

"Morning." he bode, flatly, not trying to upset her by sounding too happy. Gabryl knew how that could just set her off. Fortunately, this worked, as Leyla's eyes sunk down to drink, which Gabryl saw was black and steaming. Her previous cups had also been black, which would surprise anyone even more that her blood was not made of caffeine by now. Leyla's eyes darted form the cup to the stairs, to the front desk, and finally back on Gabryl. She slid the cup over.

"Here, I don't need any more." She said, still quiet. "You haven't eaten or anything, and it'll at least wake you up."

Gabryl pulled the cup to his side of the table, slowly, albeit gratefully. It had been more than a day since he had filled his stomach, so yes, a beverage that would give him a slap to the face was appreciated. Especially one that didn't seem to have anything added into it. Gabryl sipped, and winced as he swallowed. How could anyone drink this? The fact that he was incredibly hungry was the only thing keeping it down. It was better than starving.

"Ah, good morning you two."

Gabryl cocked his head and blinked, coming face to face with a white coat, slightly shaded blue. Ansem stood, with fine posture, and a hand in his right pocket which itself was concealed under a red scarf slung around his neck. His arrival was received with a small hello from Gabryl, and complete ignorance form Leyla. Ansem was hardly offended by the non-greeting though, and nodded, the corners of his mouth raising in an attempt to uplift her with a smile. She wasn't even looking. With a sigh, his hand came from under his scarf, and he handed a Keychain to her. She morosely took it, transferring it to her own pocket while trying to not look at it. Gabryl stared at Ansem hopefully, but did not hide it very well..

"Gabryl, I'll be assigning you one once Raimyd returns." His gaze shifted between them. "The four of you will be going out on reconnaissance at the," there was a small couch as he cleared his throat, "scene of the crime, as it were."

The new Reaper, without any knowledge of what Ansem was talking about or why they were even doing it, nodded enthusiastically. Gabryl was very much glad to be doing anything, especially if it meant he would have a Keychain.

"We too late?" Raimyd called, clamoring around other tenants, and coming to lean on his own chair. His attention averted towards Leyla. "Found the beauty queen trying to freshen up for all the boys down town that can't see her."

An agitated Medea, hair soaked, stormed down. Her fingers were almost wringing themselves around Raimyd's neck, but she restrained herself enough to take a seat. A pair of dark eyes nearly burned their way into his smirking face, though, but she didn't let her rage come down on him. Partly, this was because it was quite early, and Medea was not in the mood to stress herself out when the sun had just rose. Another reason however, was that she was trying to not appear as some quarrelsome monster to the new blood. Medea had decided logically that if Leyla would angst every moment she had, and if Raimyd was going to be a complete snob, that she would have to take the housewarming into her own hands.

"What, nothing?" Raimyd chirped, an eyebrow rising. "Well if you're gonna be so quiet, then don't get me started on that music you blast--"

"Quiet, Raimyd." Commanded a deep voice. Gabryl was surprised to see it come from Ansem, though there was really no other candidates for it. Strange though, how a sort of fatherly, gentle quality left the man as soon as he stated those words. The air was cold for a while, before he started speaking again. "Now. Rai, you'll be sharing one today with Gabryl. This way you two will keep close, understood?"

It is difficult to explain the cornucopia of emotions that showed on Raimyd's face in one instant, but they very quickly cycled through shock, anger, acceptance, slightly more anger, and finally indifference. He was surprised to have the rookie paired up with the previous rookie, himself, then angered that he had lost the opportunity to go out on his own. Soon he accepted that it would not be too long until Gabryl was responsible enough, or dead, which ever came first. Then he was angry once more at having to get up so early, afterwards forgetting about what had angered him in the first place.

"Whatever." He snatched the Keychain from Ansem's palm, prompting a very disappointed Gabryl to watch it travel from hand to hand. That was, after all, the guy he was sharing with, right? He had to at least get to hold the thing once. Medea took her own, and Gabryl stood up, almost knocking his chair aside to see if Raimyd would let him get a good look at the item he could very well call his own now. However, he was rushing to the door already, slipping on a green camouflage jacket that he plucked from a coat rack. This indeed surprised the others, who were more morning people than him.

"C'mon, I wanna grab some breakfast on the way back!"

Medea grabbed Gabryl by the arm, wrenching him forward, and turned her head to Leyla. Her other hand signaled for her to hurry along, and she made for the door, which Gabryl had reached out of fear. He really did not know who this person was and how violent they could be, and was not willing to find out. Gabryl set the bar of politeness for Reapers at Leyla's level, and ever since Raimyd entered the scene, he was contemplating setting it a little lower.

"Leyla, you know he's gonna be there by the time we cross the street. I want to get it over with too, no reason to hold back." She walked to the other side of the table, ushering her to go with them. With a sigh, she gave in, and shuffled to the door. Ansem gave them both farewells in the form of a nod, and waited until they had left. He tugged at his scarf, and returned to his post at the checkout desk. The next hour or so that the Reapers were gone, went as normal for him, except for something in the back of his mind. Gabryl came to him as familiar, or perhaps the way he acted. The child was quiet, but Ansem could see an apparent optimism in his eyes. Blue ones, at that, with a rare vividness. He shrugged it off, and went back to some paperwork consisting of tax reductions, and his own research notes.

There was a brisk gust of a wind, which blew Gabryl's hair aside. He shivered, and brushed it back over his ears, hoping that it would keep him warm. It didn't help. He crossed his arms and looked around, trying to keep his mind off the cold by distracting himself by the events surrounding him. Ironically, the town never seemed so boring. There was noticeably more growth in this area though, and towering evergreens did liven things up for the eye. Nobody, not even cars, roamed at this hour, which seems almost completely darkened, with the tall buildings and trees blocking whatever sun made it from behind the clouds. Since it had just rained so much though, Gabryl had hopes there would be some light soon.

Hm. Light, sun, warmth. Damn, he just reminded himself that he was cold. A sigh emitted, leaving a barely visible mist. Talking might help, he concluded. After all, he would have to get used to these people, and small talk could be the best path to get to friendship. He paused his thinking. Friendship. Did he even want to be friends with these guys? When they weren't being rude to him they seemed generally intolerable. Or maybe he was that way too. Gabryl had hardly said a word since arriving, so maybe they saw him as some mute freak. He would have to speak eventually to get on their good side, then.

Later, the irony would hit Gabryl that he had thought in full circle, only justifying himself by the want to be accepted. He picked up his pace, coming to Raimyd's side, who barricaded himself against the cold with a heavy hood. Raimyd's pale, reddish eyes glanced to his side, and he gritted his teeth.

"Um, Raimyd?"

He responded with a blink, and wordlessly gave him permission to continue.

"Since we're supposed to be partners or something," Gabryl could actually see his teeth grinding as his lips parted, "could I see the Keychain maybe? I never really, er, owned one."

"Sure, fine." He rolled his eyes, tossing it in the air, across to him. Raimyd had been playing with the chain around his fingers, and it only served as a reminder of his new situation. "Just hold onto it. I'll be hanging out with Medea. Don't bug me. You can explore on your own when we get there."

"Oh." He spat out, fumbling to catch it. Gabryl pricked his fingertip as he tried to steady the small, metal emblem. It was pointed, and in fact it had multiple little points. He carefully turned it, seeing that the points were like spokes, coming off a silver, circle-shaped piece of metal. The chain hanging off of it was black and red, and segmented in three parts, unlike the generic chain Leyla's had. He closed his hand around it, bringing it to his right pocket, thought he was crazy when he felt a heat coming off the Keychain. Gabryl inferred it was his mind playing tricks on him though, with him wanting to warm up.

"Hey." He said, Raimyd's last words finally registering. "Where are we going to, anyway?" His inquiry was more directed at the whole crowd, rather than just at the irked Reaper next to him. Fortunately, Medea addressed the question before anyone could lash out.

"Well, hon, we're setting off to where you were yesterday."

Gabryl finally paid attention to where they were walking, and took in the scenery. They were walking the same path that he and Leyla had taken the day before, heading back to the town common. He looked up, seeing that the populous of trees had all but disappeared, and a tram could be seen rolling by.

"What's so important about that place?"

Leyla shot him a malicious look, but it was hidden by her better sense a second after it flashed on her face. Medea noticed, and put a hand to her shoulder.

"You know well why. We're searching the area to see if the Angel left anything behind, or if there's just some kind of clue…"

"Clue to what?"

Medea stared at the ground shortly, getting anxious glances by her friends, so she decided to drop that subject. Too much for the kid who did not even know how to fly.

"Nothing. Just something we could use against the Angels."

Gabryl nodded. That was good enough an answer for him, and he thought he was getting a pretty good idea of how the system worked. These Reapers, and possibly others living at the inn, were not just in hiding. This was some kind of rebellion.

"…This is it." Leyla announced, close to a whisper. They all scanned the area, though nothing was out of the ordinary. Small shops filled in the little spaces between tall buildings, and one store stood in the middle of it all. The tram from earlier circled around it before taking off towards the other side of the town, and they crossed the now-safe track. All but Gabryl, who was the only one that knew where the murder took place. He looked over, saw where he had hid while watching the Angel appear, and went towards where he had stood in fear. Leyla had a feeling that Gabryl was onto things, and purposely inspected the opposite end of the district, behind that standalone building. Raimyd stuck with Medea, lacking a Keychain, and checked the cracks, riddled with small fissures for things to fall into. Gabryl found something much more interesting than what could be found behind a building or in some crack, though.

He had not noticed it while standing there before, as his focus was more on the supernatural being before him, but the very spot where Lucre had been vaporized was scorched black. It was a splatter mark from the blast, and the more Gabryl looked at it, the more sick he became. He went down on one knee, disgustedly running a finger over the blackness. Upon checking his finger, there was no noticeable residue to be seen. It did, thankfully, take the pressure off of putting one's hand on human remains. Gabryl did realize however, that it had rained, meaning that anything left would have been washed away. The Angel burned the brick ground.

"Wow…" He was impressed, and terrified at the power. Gabryl hoped, for Lucre's sake, that the power from the blast made it a painless death. He stroked the ground with two fingers this time. Nothing rubbed off but some mud and water left by the rain. Whatever that power was, it was not just light, as it would take some degree of darkness to leave a permanent, black color. It piqued Gabryl's interest, thinking that the Angels used an attack whose element was opposite of what it seemed.

Eyes trained to the ground, Gabryl did not see as the sky changed. The thick layer of morning overcast began to subside, letting the sun just peak through over the horizon. Rays traveled between buildings, reflecting off windows, until one stray beam illuminated the drenched stone. Something glinted in the light, something black as the mark present. Gabryl was just about to get up when he saw it, and leant closer to the ground to see. His fingertips explored this section of the smear, and found something laying on top of it. It was cold, metal, but light. Gabryl picked it up, and held it to the sunlight that was kind enough to find him in the first place.

What he had picked up, was a Keychain. It was perfectly black, as black as black could get, and stood out amongst any color. Except for what he had found it on, but color seemed to be some strange exception. The chain links were thick, and just as black as the emblem; a three-pointed crown. Gabryl watched on with awe as he held it by the chain, letting it spin gently by gravity's doing. It was very pretty.

"…Mine." He declared simply, under his breath. This Keychain was his, and it would be his own secret. Gabryl had found it, therefore he didn't have to show it off or turn it in to Ansem. Where did it even come from? He could not ask, though. The they would know, and would try to take it form him. This was his discovery. Gabryl buried it deep in his left pocket, away from the other, and fearing he might take this new one out when giving back his other, very warm one. "I'll just be careful, and if worst comes to worst, they might let me keep it or something--"

"Gabe!" There was a call behind him. Gabryl had not realized how loud he was talking to himself, and Medea had snuck up on him.

"Gabey, we couldn't find nothing. Rai's trying to force us home, so…ew." She looked, with astonishment and disgust like Gabryl's, at the mark. "That where it, um, happened?"

Gabryl nodded, and stood back up, brushing water from his knees. He felt as though the miniature crown was protruding out his jeans, alerting all to what he had found. And even if it was, Medea was mostly focused on the ground, walking over.

"What a way to go." She lamented. Gabryl had to wonder how she knew the fashion in which Lucre was killed, but assumed that she must have known with experience in these matters. It didn't make a difference anyway. He stared once again into the inkiness of the mark, as if transfixed, and didn't notice Medea turning to Leyla and Raimyd, who leaned against the nearby bulletin board of public notices and town announcements. He also did not notice the sun falling behind the clouds once more, as the blackness was undisturbed by light. What he did notice a little, was a pair of bright, yellow eyes staring right back at him, from the middle of the mark. Gabryl blinked. They didn't.

The blackened ground seemed to rise up, becoming a kind of bulge. It quickly increased in size and height, looking like a sphere and then thinning down like a neck. Long, erratic antenna stuck up from the newly formed head, and a pair of shoulders were now completely emerged. Gabryl was now much more concerned of this than when there were only eyes, and he stepped back in shock when a pair of arms with clawed hands were raised threateningly at him. They twitched, like the rest of its body did frequently. A moment later, the creature stood hunched over, head turning from side to side, and stopping on Gabryl. It twitched more, like it was going into a seizure, and bent at the legs. It was preparing to lunge. The head reeled back once as if to warn Gabryl, emitting a deafening, alien screech. A hand went to Gabryl's ear, and the other was trying to summon his scythe in defense. It was all happening too quickly though, and he closed his eyes, bracing for the attack.

He saw nothing through his eyelids though, and after a couple seconds had passed, figured opening them would be best to tell if he had died or not.

Expecting the monster, Gabryl's mouth gaped a little when he saw Leyla instead. She was leaning over, both hands gripping the end of her scythe's shaft. Said hands were shaking. The blade was wedged into the ground, in the middle of the mark, where the creature had emerged. Gabryl had opened his eyes just in time to see a explosion of dark smoke where Leyla had struck. The blade itself was longer than his, and going in a crescent, but was much more crudely shaped. It was jagged, with a rough, zigzag theme to it, which applied to the shorter portion of metal opposite the main blade. That was the gist of what Gabryl saw, before it faded away. Leyla composed herself, checking over Gabryl to make sure he had suffered no attack, and looking back at Raimyd and Medea, who had watched the event in horror.

"Gabryl." She beamed. "You guys. We're going. Now."

They had no qualms obeying, and the group made haste to return to the inn, cutting every corner possible. Leyla kept her hands stuffed in her jacket, hiding their trembling. There other two marched behind her. Gabryl was the only one with an expression of worry, contrary to their straight faces. He had no idea what that thing was, or why it was apparently ready to attack him. It was easy to infer that it was dangerous, and something they all knew how to deal with, otherwise it would not have been sliced in half that fast. Ultimately, these clues gave him nothing. Gabryl sucked in his breath and prepared to give another series of questions that would torment all but his own sense of curiosity. And even that was getting a little meek.

"Guys, what was that…thing?"

As expected, a coldness drew over them. One that spawned from three people thinking how much they hated the new kid and his abundant questions.

"It was a Heartless." Leyla muttered, turning her head just a little in his direction, as if to show it was she who answered him and yes, without some snide remark or attitude. Before Gabryl could ask more, she cut him off. "We'll explain when we get back."

She walked faster, steps increasing in width. The others sped up accordingly. Gabryl huffed, glad that he was at least going to get a little exposition on this mess. They crossed the street earlier than usual, seeing a clear place in the street, so that they could rush to the inn on a straight path. It was efficient. Finally, the inn came in into sight, among a scattering of trees. They could just the roof through the branches, which gave them ease. It was seeing the door that put them off, though, or at least what they could see. A crowd had gathered at the double doors, keeping them forced open and surely letting in a lot of unwanted cold air. The four Reapers slowed down, a block away from the sight. Leyla and Medea looked on with contempt, while Raimyd shared some of the same curiosity as each other. Those standing at the door, most notably those with large black wings, were all Reapers looking for admission before the entire building was occupied.

"Shit." Spat Leyla, completely prepared to shove away anyone who blocked her path. The others kept their distance, to avoid her rage. "I thought…" She pushed, but to no avail. "I thought we'd get in before the storm. But--" An elbow recoiled and jabbed her shoulder, while a feather obstructed her vision. She backed away, with a very unpleasant snarl plastered on.

"They're early."