"So he left?" Miles sighed to herself, cupping her hands around a mug of hot water. She'd taken to drinking just plain, boiled water when the night grew late, possibly to stave off whatever cravings she had for tea or coffee. Lavi nodded.

"I'm sorry about that. Once he's got an idea in mind, there's no stopping him. He can hold his own, don't worry. That's not what I'm worried about. I just don't want him in trouble with law enforcement if he ever confronts someone and they use that against him. He doesn't understand law enforcement - literally," Lavi explained with a dark chuckle. Miles frowned, and she took a long drink of her water. She set the mug down carefully, as if it would shatter if she set it down any harder.

"Care to explain?" Lavi looked her straight in the eye. Now that Kanda had left, Allen was actually sharing a room with Cameron. He'd shown himself to be enough of a gentleman that it would pose no problems, and they'd gone to bed late. Bookman had turned in early, as was his wont, and Lavi and Gale had started to discuss their plans of action. Now, it was almost two in the morning. Kanda was long gone, and there was an entire night to burn with stories and ideas.

This little proposition posed a bit of a problem, though. It was Kanda's past, a highly sensitive subject that no one dared touch. Part of the reason was the fact the Order wanted the Second Exorcist project under wraps - after all, on paper it was just a bit of an embarrassment. A hundred strong team of scientists couldn't keep two boys from destroying the facility... Lavi sighed. However, these people were meant to help them, and they needed the full implications. Kanda, as he was, happened to still be slightly dangerous and maybe a little unstable, especially in this new environment. Kanda had never been designed to be a civilian. His entire purpose was to fight and to kill, something that Lavi didn't doubt the man wrestled with nearly every day of his life. If there was any way that Lavi could help the transition, he would. Releasing sensitive information was against his natural grain, but he slowly forced his way past his instinctual aversion.

"Kanda... was an experiment of the organization that I work for. He was meant to be a weapon of destruction that would wipe out the enemies we fight, demons. Technically, Kanda is only nine or ten years old. The only reason he acts so old is from lots of fighting, lots of running, lots of killing, and the memories he's got from his past life. I'll explain that in a minute. There are a lot of social concepts that he literally hasn't been able to grasp. I mean, think about it. What's there to get? Especially when your life is consumed with mission after mission..." Lavi began, leaning back in his chair, eyes focused on the table in front of him. He'd always held a certain amount of pity and sympathy for his begrudging friend. Privately, Lavi wondered if Kanda took on so many missions in order to get away from real life. There were some people who just couldn't handle it.

"Law enforcement is one of those concepts that he hasn't quite worked out. No one's bothered to ever teach him to live before. He's kind of... well, introverted," Lavi commented with a slight smirk. 'Introverted' was a rather weak word. Miles coughed a laugh, and she contemplated her mug. She tilted her head to the side, and her eyes suddenly lost some of their edge. She shrugged.

"I can understand that. I'll see what I can do. I've still got contacts in that little, dusty corner of the world. There are a lot of solo witches in this city who just want to go on living their lives without have to deal with the problems a coven brings in. I bet I can get one to watch him -" Lavi winced.

"Whoa, whoa, back up. You don't want to put a tail on him. Some days, I'm not sure if he's going to cut me, and he's my... comrade," Lavi stated, hesitating the last word, as he put up his hands for emphasis. "You want to do this discreetly. If he finds out someone's babysitting him, he'll blow an artery." Miles threw up her hands in exasperation.

"Fine, fine! Sheesh, does this guy have a complex. Alright, I can do that. And I'm going to need to, uh, assign a detail to you guys, too, while you're at school. Don't worry - you won't hardly ever know that she's even there, so don't think I'm having her accompany you to the bathroom every time you gotta take a leak or something. I just want to be cautious," Miles explained as she got up and put her now-empty mug in the sink. Lavi shrugged and leaned back in his chair, glancing out the window. He was more worried than he let on. What Miles had said about him - glowing like a Christmas tree - made him fret more than he cared to admit. He'd be drawing attention from miles around from every coven and solo witch with eyes to see.

"How dangerous is our opponent?" Lavi asked Miles quietly. Her answer was terse.

"Not very. She's clumsy. Never hurts to prepare." Lavi nodded. Suddenly, he leaned forwards against the table, staring at Gale's back, thinking of the tattoo just under the shirt.

"Why don't you practice magic any more, Gale?" Lavi asked, and she stopped. Her shoulders tensed for a moment, but then relaxed. Gale put her hands on the edge of the sink, and she looked down, eyes focusing on some point beyond the metal. She took a long breath.

"It's a long story."

"We've got all night."

"Yeah, well, you're not the one with work in the morning."

"Touche." With that Gale promptly went to her room, leaving Lavi to mull over this new conundrum. No trouble - he'd find out sooner or later. Nothing could hide from him, not for long.


Gale placed a phone call.

"Hey... I need a favor." There was a long silence.

"What do you want?"

"Look, all I need for you to do is watch a couple of kids for me, a white haired guy and a red haired guy. And no, this isn't police work. This is entirely personal. I know you're Favor's still active, too. Your little trinket's practically turning my room into a runway."

"Just another reason why my Favor trinkets are so wonderful. Of course when I gave you a Favor, I hadn't expected anything quite so... mundane."

"Trust me, this is the farthest thing from mundane. I don't want to give details over the phone. I'll have Cam send a WordCraft or something."

"Still shying away from the good ol' art of magic, Gale?"

"You know very well why I do."

"Tch, you bet. I was lucky I wasn't there. The WordCraft that was flying around at the time, sheesh... It was like you'd gone and declared babies an acceptable food source."

"Well... see, this might be linked to that incident. Or, we'll have to use some of the same methods from it for our particular problem."

"Are you serious? Man, you're right. Farthest thing from mundane as it gets. When do you want me to start?"

"As soon as possible. Are you up to it, or -"

"I've been stagnating, chica. It's no prob. I needed something to do, anyways. I guess this means buying make up again. Sheesh, you know how much of that stuff I've got to buy?"

"Hehe, yeah, I know. Being an illusor isn't easy, is it?"

"Freakin' expensive, if I'm not up to using a ton of the surrounding ergoviron. Well, it's early where I'm at, so I guess I'd better hop on over, huh? I can be there by tomorrow."

"Where are you, anyways?"

"Tokyo, man, is where it's at for an illusor. Plenty of lights, lots of fashion, every single style you can think of - you're talkin' illusor heaven."

"Sorry to pull you away from it. And you can get here by tomorrow? That's one strong teletransitrist you've got."

"Eh, she's paid well. Besides, she owes me quite a few Favors, too."

"Well, all right. Take care." The line clicked.

Gale placed her next call, wishing it wasn't so late. Her next contact wouldn't have her laptop open for Skype. She would've rather talked face to face.

"Hello?" A thick Irish brogue with sleepy overtones answered.

"Hey. Is your sister awake?"

"Hm, yeah, why?"

"I need to talk to her. There's something I want her to do."

"Och, couldn't ye have called at a normal time? Yer lucky she's a night owl as 'tis. Hold th'phone, I'll go and get her..."

A minute later, the line was picked up again.

"Alright, she's right next t'me. What do you want to ask?"

"There's a guy that I need her to watch for a little while. He's tall, Asian, long hair, got a sword, and he looks like a glowworm on the ergomund." She heard exactly what she was saying repeated, albeit in a thick Irish accent. There was a long pause.

"She says fine, but would you care to elaborate on the why?"

"He could be trouble to the neighboring witches, and I need him alive, that's all. Not to mention, there's a chance he's a warlock." Again, her words were repeated. Another long pause, and he answered back.

"She says that's okay. Any particular idea where he is?"

"No clue. But could you tell her to be discreet? It's kind of important that she not be too... visible about all this. He'll probably need a place to stay or something. He's kind of not legal. And it wouldn't hurt to drop a hint here and there about how to keep himself masked."

Again, the pause, and finally, "She says she can do it. She also says she's been up all night waitin' for yer call, so I'm guessin' she'll be lookin' for him pretty soon now."

"Oh, really? Huh, I didn't think she had that strong a futuresense... Well, that's fantastic. Can she really find him that fast?"

"You're talkin' about the best and fastest visitransitrist this side o' the pond, me lass. She could find a dust mote on a duck's behind from over a hundred miles away. I think yer friend'll be fine." Gale smiled sardonically. Caughney was always given to hyperbole, but his sister was just as good as he said. Though the thing about the dust mote was a little far-fetched...

"Alright. Well, as long as she's not too tired."

"No problem, lassie, just don't let yerself get into any trouble now." The line clicked. Gale sighed. She just had one more call to make.

This time, the line rung nearly ten times before a groggy voice answered.

"'Lo? Sergei Tonsty's residence."

"Uh... Hey, Serg. How you been?"

There was silence, and she knew he was going to hang up.

"Wait wait wait! Look, man, I'm serious, I need a huge, huge, huge favor..."

"Why should I even bother?"

"They'll help with your dimensional theory. That's why."

"That's what you said before, and look what happened. I've got freakin' mental problems because of you, and he never shuts up!" Gale winced.

"Serg... I just need this one thing."

There was more silence.

"What do you want?"

"Well, okay, it's a really long story..."


Gale was not the only one placing calls to different sources. The Ravenlight coven was not happy. Already, two weeks had passed since their first attempt at nabbing the troublemakers, and all they had to show for it were hospital bills and frightened scouts. They had vastly underestimated these four, and luckily they'd stayed far away from the old man. In witching society, age almost always meant power. A witch didn't get old unless she had a good bit of bite to her, and that man had smelt like some serious magic.

Now, they had to figure out what they were going to do. Or, more accurately, Iris had to figure out what they were going to do. Their coven was like a body - her as the head, mainly the brains, and the others as the body, her hands and feet and eyes and ears. They needed direction from the head, or else they were as good as a vegetable in a hospital bed.

And so, Iris was pacing in her room, the nest calmly settled now that the early hours of the morning were beginning to come upon them. Witches need not be nocturnal, but Iris liked to keep an image. She sighed as she suddenly fell into a ratty armchair, staring into a full-length mirror at herself. Skinny, alabaster skin, dyed black hair, kohl-lined eyes - she was the epitome of the teenage witch of this era. Not at all like Gale and her 'upstanding' appearance. Then again, she moved around in other circles so much better, or rather she had. That was what had made her such a great power broker, in both senses of the word.

"What do you propose?" Giselle asked from across the room, sitting at a vanity. She was Iris's second in command, a mediocre poteracruxus who could at least hold her own in a fire fight and cast a rather strong Favor when the occasion inspired her. Iris got up again and began to pace once more, her steps going one, two, three, turn, one two three... She said, "We know that white haired boy and the red haired man are both fairly social, which could be turned to our advantage, but it looks like they have Vision of the ergomund, or at least a rough magical sense to them. That means witches, at least ours, are going to be no help. They can sniff them out right from the start. Capturing them is a no-no. They're too powerful as they are, and it looks like their weapons siphon magic, if Christie has anything to say."

Christie had a run in with the white-haired boy, Allen, nearly a week before. She'd confronted him, not knowing who he was (such a stupid girl, missing somebody so obvious). However, she had a good, strong Vision of the ergomund, so her word was mostly trustworthy, though she had a habit of exaggerating. It was a fairly new development, one that was extremely worrying. For years, Gale had been searching for such a weapon, something that could nullify the effects of witches on the ergomund, and now she had it.

But, more than likely, they had no idea what they had with them. Otherwise, Gale would've done something about studying them. As much as she was now a 'normal' citizen, she was still a purveyor and developer of magic. Her stance may be passive, but Iris planned on changing that. Though Giselle was a fair poteracruxus, she wanted Gale back. They had... unfinished business. Anything less than domination would be defeat.

Unfortunately, one of Gale's traits happened to be her resiliency.

"We need someone outside the coven. Yes... that would be the best course of action. We can stand to wait a bit. The Tri Clave won't hit us with all they've got, after all. We're still too small to be of any concern. The Wrench Dogs are the only ones who're really being targeted. We've got time," Iris mused to herself, and Giselle drew up a list of all the contacts they had, solo witches who either had a Favor from them or were willing to work for a price. There were plenty of mercenaries out there.

"What have we got in mind? Voodoo, gris-gris, traditional, freestyle, urban, nature-based, shamanistic, anything in particular?" Giselle asked. Iris thought for a moment, and she stated, "What we need is an illusor or a visitransitrist. Someone who can watch them without being detected. From what our girls said, the long-haired guy can see into the ergomund with twenty-twenty vision, which isn't good. A visitransitrist would be too obvious. So some sort of illusor would be best." Suddenly, Giselle was struck by an idea.

"Voodoo practitioners have some illusor ability, especially if they've got a body stashed away they can use. Their magic is easier concealed, especially because it's masked by a normal body rather than the witch herself," Giselle suggested, and Iris cocked her head to the side as she walked over to the window, watching the city. This was the time of night when real darkness settled on the city. Cars were far and few, and the only glow came from the sodium lights with their creepy orange illumination.

"Voodoo might work. But, better yet, we should take several witches, the best soloists at masking that we can afford to pull Favors from. Have we got any?" Giselle scanned the list, and she nodded.

"A few. Did you have any in mind?" Iris smiled in an appropriately predatory fashion.

"Yes, actually. Be a dear and call Ms. Marionette."


Kanda had wandered the various back alleys for hours. He had yet to find his original hide out, and it wouldn't be long before the first light of false dawn would appear from the sky. He sighed to himself, feeling uncomfortable and sore. His sweatshirt was only so thick, not at all like his uniform coat, and the sleeves only came down to his elbows, cut off at a ragged, hemmed edge. He'd opted for jeans, considering their durability, and he only had his Order boots, so the match was slightly incongruous. He hiked his bag higher on his shoulder. Before leaving the apartment, he'd stashed a duffle bag full of his things. It wasn't very heavy - there were only a few changes of clothes, toiletries, and whatever other items he'd had with him before the sudden dimension jump.

He looked up at the abandoned building, and he drew a deep breath. It was fairly well protected, easily fortified, a good place to stay. On more than one occasion, he'd had to hide out in abandoned buildings, shelled out apartments, and the like. Hotels weren't magical, after all, and they didn't always stay standing whenever he was on mission. He wasn't used to an urban landscape, though. Still, he could adapt, couldn't he?

He headed into the building with a slight feeling of trepidation. No matter what, he would always think that Akuma were creeping around the corners, waiting to ambush him in the dark. Luckily, Kanda's night vision was pretty good, and the light of the street lamps were the only illumination. Kanda began to climb the rickety stairs, testing each step carefully. Though they were made of concrete and metal, it never hurt to check. He reached the third floor, and he opened the door. This one had been the most free of debris and squatters, and the apartment at the very end of the hall hadn't been too run down, though it would be a long time before Kanda would be able to get the shower up and running. For now, he was just going to have to deal with being stinky and sweaty in between jaunts to Officer Whatsherface's postage stamp of a flat.

His thoughts were so occupied with the problems of the apartment that he almost didn't notice the person sitting in the middle of the living room as he walked in. He stared at the intruder for a moment before muttering a curse under his breath and drawing his sword.

The girl stood up and waved her hands at him in a 'don't shoot!' movement. Kanda already had Mugen pointed at her throat, but oddly enough he didn't see the usual spark of panic that usually lit up people's eyes when they find themselves pitted against the steel of his blade. She slowly put her hand down, and he realized she'd been eating a cup of re-hydrated noodles. He followed every movement she made with his sword, and she carefully picked up a white board and a marker. She held each up separately in each hand. Kanda only blinked, studying her in the half-light of the sodium light going through the blinds.

She was an average height with extremely curly red hair. Her face and arms were heavily freckled, and her eyes were an odd shade of gray, seeming to kaleidoscope between different shades with every movement she made. She had an upturned nose, giving her the appearance of a pixie or a mischievous sprite. She started to scribble on the whiteboard, almost nonchalantly if it weren't for her speed, and she suddenly held up a sign.

Kanda looked sheepish as he very slowly read the sign. Honestly, Kanda wasn't much of a reader. It didn't help that English was a second language, his first actually being Chinese (or was it that Chinese was his second language, and Japanese his first?). He finally managed to read the entire message.

'Not a danger. Wanna help. You a warlock? -Ashling' Kanda stared at the woman, noting her age. She couldn't be older than he was. Still, women were hard to judge in age, but her stance was that of someone young. He lowered the sword, and he said, "Sorry, but I can't read too well." Ashling blinked for a moment before suddenly scribbling furiously on her whiteboard.

'Sorry. Deaf. Can't talk. Making this short.' Kanda scoffed, and he shoved his sword back into his sheath.

"I don't need your help. Get out of here," Kanda stated. Ashling frowned, and she crossed her arms, plopping herself back down on the ground. Defiantly, she stared at him, and Kanda raised a single eyebrow.

"I will forcefully remove you if you don't get out of here," Kanda stated slowly, and Ashling started scribbling again.

'Not leaving til I help you.' Kanda nearly threw his bag down on top of her. He wasn't against trying to force someone out of his space, but... well, she was deaf. For some reason, that didn't feel fair. Obviously, she was a witch as well, or at least aware of magic, so maybe that nullified her status as disabled. Of course, if she was a witch, why didn't she just use magic so she could hear? Unless, of course, magic wasn't that sophisticated, but... He realized he was overthinking things. He suddenly lifted the girl off the ground, and she started to kick and punch. He winced as an elbow connected with his ear.

"Calm down already, sheesh, you wanna send us down the stairs?" Kanda growled out after cursing as she continued to squirm. Suddenly, she calmed down, and for a moment he felt relief. And then, just before he could get them through the door to the stairwell, the whiteboard was stuffed in his face.

'Witches come for you. You glow in the dark. Can mask you. Let me help!' Kanda frowned. He hadn't thought about that, honestly. He knew that he could see into the ergomund, and obviously other witches could too, but he hadn't known he was so visible. He had checked periodically into the ergomund as well as he could manage, and he hadn't detected anyone, but to know that others could mask their 'signature' was worrying. He set the girl down on the floor, and she looked up at him resolutely. She started scribbling again, blocking the stairwell, and she held it up.

'Can only mask you with me. Promise not to harm. Make Vow if necessary. Please.' Kanda narrowed his eyes. So far, she hadn't posed a threat, but Kanda honestly didn't know if he could trust her. Suddenly, Ashling erased and scribbled again.

'Get my noodles please, at least? Didn't eat at home.' Kanda rolled his eyes, and he stood aside to let her through, but she didn't move. She gave him an incredulous look, and she waved her arms in the direction of the apartment. Obviously, she didn't want to let him leave, but she wanted her noodles at the same time.

"You have legs. Go get it yourself if you want it so bad," Kanda stated with a brutal stare. She gave it right back to him, and she stood up, crossing her arms, and she vigorously shook her head. She pointed past him, and Kanda held his stance. Was he seriously having an argument over noodles with a deaf witch?

Suddenly, his vision slipped into the ergomund, and it was so strong that he was nearly knocked off his feet. The entire apartment was lit up with lines from the metal wires, and the lights outside seemed to permeate clouds of energy. And the girl in front of him seemed to radiate her own energy, every single line of nervous system shining like a live wire, as well as other lattices of energies running through and around her, coloring her as a witch with layer upon layer of ward wrapped around her like a cage made of light. He could feel other energies, just outside their building, so many of them, most from cars, cell phones, people, and... and just beyond that, there was another layer, a layer that held massive things that were just beyond reach. And Kanda knew that if he looked too deep into that layer, the binding fabric underneath everything, he was going to lose it.

Just as abruptly as he'd gone in, he was yanked back out by an external power, something so strong as to pull his vision and cover it like a bag over the head of a frightened ostrich. Kanda took a deep, gasping breath, a deep diver just breaking the surface. He shivered, more sapped than he'd ever been trying to look into the ergomund. Two hands were placed against his temples, and it took his normal vision a while to focus in the dark. The deaf girl had her fingers to his temples, rubbing them gently as a strong, almost magnetic magic pulsed out of them.

I'm sorry for being so abrupt and touching you, but if you'd looked any longer, you might've left your head for a little while, a small, mental voice with a thick accent breathed into his mind. He pulled away from the girl, and he felt as if a rubber band had snapped between them. The comforting, pushing sensation against his head was gone, and he was left with a fairly mild headache. She crossed her arms, lifting a single eyebrow. She didn't need to write what she was thinking.

"Alright. So maybe I need a little help," Kanda admitted, narrowing his eyes. The girl's face split into a wide smile, and she picked up her whiteboard and marker. She scribbled again.

'Good. I can help you control it. Gotta let me first. Come to my place. Trust me.' Kanda gritted his teeth. Huh, trust her. Yes, that was going to happen. Still, it didn't look like he had much choice. This had been his first encounter with that second layer of the ergomund. He'd sensed it, in a vague sort of way, and he'd avoided it, but it looked as if there was no choice now. All of this had happened so fast... At the least the girl would have a shower where she lived.

Well, he hoped. She didn't look much better than him. She didn't look homeless, either, though, so that was a plus. He grabbed his things as Ashling grabbed her noodles, and they made their way downstairs.

"What, you don't have a car?" Kanda muttered, and it took him a moment to realize she literally couldn't hear him when she didn't answer. Instead, he just followed. Eventually, he realized why he felt so at ease. She wasn't trying to talk to him (or, rather, scribble). She was obviously a person of few words by nature, and yet she was so expressive that it was almost comical. It was an odd combination. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trailing behind her at a loping pace.

After thirty minutes of walking, they came to a large apartment complex with a garage. She took out a ring of keys, and she unlocked the door next to the garage the led out to the lot. She playfully put a finger to her lips, signalling quiet, and Kanda rolled his eyes. Definitely theatrical, but thankfully silent. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He rolled his shoulders as he walked into the garage, which was now lit by a line of these bright, white lights in tubes that he'd never seen before. There were all sorts of unidentifiable metal parts, along with the gutted remains of what he thought was a car. There were so many different tools there, he couldn't make any sense of them, besides the drill and the wrenches. He managed to keep his questions to himself.

The girl led him to a different room beyond the garage which led to a stairwell. She beckoned him, and they began to climb up the stairs. He still wasn't used to these strange, stone stairs that were completely smooth. She turned down a hall, and she walked into one of the apartments in the corridor. She motioned him along as he stood in the doorway of the corridor hesitantly. He sighed through his nose. I'm following a woman I met in an abandoned apartment who was apparently waiting for me while eating re-hydrated noodles from a weird, crunchy plastic cup. This makes all the sense in the world.

He walked into the apartment, and he was immediately met with the strong smell of metal shavings and the odor of magic. It was stiff here, so potent that Kanda almost stepped back out the door. However, it wasn't a bad smell. In fact, it was almost pleasant, this smell of peat, ozone, and metal dust. He sniffed surreptitiously, and Ashling turned on the light. She gestured to the couch and the bathroom, and Kanda could guess what she'd meant. He dumped his duffle bag on the couch, and he stood there uncertainly, wondering what exactly he was supposed to know. At least in Miles' apartment, he'd had a good idea of what he wanted to do. Here, all he could do was sleep in an unfamiliar person's apartment with absolutely no back up.

Wait, what was he thinking?! He'd done this more times than he could count! She was a magic user, yeah, but it was obvious she meant no harm. If she did then he'd just chop her to pieces before she had time to finish a spell. Of course, he felt oddly vulnerable, perhaps due to the presence of the single female in the apartment, but he decided that it was no problem. She set down the white board on the counter, and she walked over to him. Kanda looked up in surprise, and Ashling gestured to the kitchen. She tilted her head to the side with a slight lift to the eyebrows. He shook his head silently, sitting on the couch. He'd already taken a shower, so he didn't need that either. Thankfully, she left him in silence.

Kanda watched her go into her room, and he crossed his arms as he thought about this. What about was he going to do now? His idea had been to scout around, to look for threats, to... to... find a way home. Kanda realized that he didn't have much of a plan. He'd hoped that once he'd gotten out, he might have a better idea. Now, he realized that was a stupid idea. His instincts didn't work here. His world of black and white didn't operate the same. There weren't neat categories for every person. More than that, he was dealing with people. That wasn't his forte.

But he had to have a plan. He couldn't just not have some idea of what he was going to do. Perhaps it'd just be best to take small steps. After all, he'd just done a runaround of the surrounding area, seen all the witches and their usual haunts. He needed to get control of this... this Vision anyways. He sighed to himself. As he thought about these things, he started to drift off. He didn't even realize his eyes had closed.

And his dreams were full of lights and glow-in-the-dark sheep.


"Yes?" A languid figure in a large chair sat in the dark, looking out on a brightly lit city that was just beginning to wake up. The light of the city dimly lit the sky above, smog providing a canvas for the neon brush below. A young lady, an intern really, had hesitantly entered the room with a phone in hand. She'd hardly stepped two paces before the figure in the chair had spoken. The voice was androgynous, and the intern felt a seed of unease bury itself in her. She'd never actually spoken to the head before. Always, she received instructions and the like from managers and go-betweens.

"Uh... Ma'am, someone called. A Ms. Canner has asked for you specifically." A hand appeared as a mere shadow against the glowing backdrop of the city. The fingers curled in a beckoning gesture, and the intern scurried to hand over the phone. The intern stood off by herself, trying to look uninterested in the ensuing conversation.

"You realize that it's nearly four in the morning." The voice was nearly audible, but it was too low for her to make out actual words. Whatever it was, the head laughed, a throaty chuckle.

"You know me too well. What do I have to owe this honor? ... Of course it's an honor. Always happy to help another covenmate. What did you have in mind? Financial, pharmaceutical, transport, technology, perso - Oh, so it is personal, is it? Lemme guess, our friend is acting up again, am I right?" Another pause, this one longer as the person on the other end talked for a lengthy amount of time. The intern shifted nervously. She was awfully tired. It was four in the morning. She'd stayed overnight to do some extra work.

The head suddenly whistled low. "That's a hefty problem you've managed to create. ... Oh, don't give me that, you did create it, you absolute twit. Don't try to deny it. If it was my city, I would've killed you by now and fixed it myself. You're lucky that Quartzhall hasn't slaughtered you for being such an idiotic, feeble-minded, impotent little spit of a witch. But don't worry. I guessI can clean up your little spat." The tone that the head was using could've peeled paint, blown bulbs, and fried nearby insects. The intern herself felt like crying. Something deep within her, something primal and instinctive, had been stroked into waking, and the feeling nearly sent her to her knees. She could only imagine how the receiver could be taking it. Just standing there made her feel like her legs were water.

"There is the manner of my fee. ... Yes, I'm listening. Let's see... You have one with long hair? And one with red hair? Alright, what else? White hair? No, no, I think that's unsettling - it's something to do with age and all that. ... I like tall and slim. You did say the red haired one has an eye patch? Hm, that's a bit of a problem, but I can live with it. Long hair is troublesome. Give me the red haired one. ... Trust me, if I do get him, he won't be dead. Even if he was, I can still work with that. I have ways. ... Now, now, honey, you know exactly what I'll do with him. Don't worry, I'll hand him back over when I'm through. I may ask to keep the shell, though, if there's anything left afterwards." Another minute or so, a heated, whiny argument ensuing.

"Fine, fine. I'll be there within the hour. I know a few good visitransitrists. My dearest apologies, my dear, but I don't trust your handiwork. I have heard word that your current poteracruxus isn't worth the gum off the bottom of my boot. I'd hate to be translated over Chicago on accident. Yes... yes yes, just hang up already." With that, the line clicked shut, and the intern quickly took the phone as it was passed off to her. In a whirl, the head of the organization went past her in the dark, and the intern felt a waft of arctic cold. In the light of the hall, the figure was outlined, but oddly not a single detail was visible, not even a crinkle of the clothes.

"Book Natasha for a quick translation, as quick as you can bother to make it. She'll be in my Rolodex under visitransitrist."

"Uh... of course."

"Oh, and Chrissie? Is that your name? Ah, yes, Chrissie. I need it within the hour. Don't keep me waiting." The intern was so paralyzed, she nearly stopped breathing. Finally, finding her voice, she gasped, "Yes, yes, I will, certainly, Miss, uh, Missus, um, uh, Mister, I mean, uh..." The head suddenly turned, eyes the only things showing beyond the thick darkness of what the intern now realized was a coat, the collar turned upwards to hide the rest of the face.

"Don't worry about it. Trust me on that."


Ashling Smithson woke up to the sounds of a person speaking. It was not so much she could hear the person - after all, she was deaf as a post - that she could feel the words, sense the meaning, almost taste the subconscious thoughts through which they'd swum in order to escape the lips of their speaker. Ashling was gifted in seeing the dreams of people; though it wasn't her emphasis with her magical category, it was just a little something she took on every now and again. She herself had always had vivid dreams, and she loved to taste the dreams of other people, to hear through their minds. Through the strange magic of electromagnetics, neurochemicals, and a little bit of help from a light socket, she could submerse herself into those nightly wanderings.

And so, she got out of bed, wondering whose dreams were so loud that they could possibly have woken her up.

She scratched her head, noting for what would definitely not be the last time how odd it was that she could do so and not hear the nails scratch the skin. Her eyes wandered towards the door of her apartment, trying to tag down the dream. It had lulled now; sometimes dreams did that. They entered shifts, and the weave would unravel ever so slightly, usually just around the verge of wakening. Perhaps the dream had burst from down the hall, drifting from one of her five brothers. All of them were fairly strong dreamers, spinning subconscious yarns that would've put the best bards of Ireland to shame. She was about to open the door when the dream picked up again, and she nearly had to lean on the door it was so strong.

She looked over her shoulder, knowing from where that brute strength must be coming. She'd literally woven entire enchantments in order to keep her brothers' dreams from affecting her, seeing as they couldn't mask their mental and energetic output as a witch could. There was only one person in the complex with dreams and raw ability that could possibly have woken her from a dead sleep, and he happened to be crashed on her couch. Ashling wandered across the old carpet to the couch, looking in on the sleeper.

Long hair was snarled and in loops around his head. A strong brow over a long, aquiline nose, set between tightly shut eyes. He cut a bold, harsh figure. Even now, he still looked fierce and uninviting asleep, and he was muttering almost coherently. Despite the fact she was nearing him, the dream remained the same 'volume'. It was a uniform sort of casting out, and a good somneria would've been able to merely decipher just the surrounding area in order to intercept the dream. However, Ashling moonlighted her dream-tasting, and so she needed actual contact. Her curiosity got the better of her as she rounded the couch, and she nearly put a hand out to touch him, just this once -

"Alma?" The voice startled her. It had been so boldly stated, so terribly sad, almost as if a child were calling in the dark for someone familiar. She blinked, her hand wavering over his brow. She frowned, realizing what she was doing. This wasn't right. These were his dreams. They were not hers to intrude on. These were obviously very, very personal. Some dreams were like that. After all, if he woke up it would end badly. She had no doubt of that. His hand had never left his sword, not even in sleep.

With that, the deaf woman withdrew to her room, blinking as she felt the dream crescendo. And, in that sudden burst, the dream seemed to break from its confines, hitting her with full force as the world around her shifted into that man's dream world. Bright white curtains, everywhere, with gold light shimmering from no particular source, and midst these trappings... a boy no older than twelve hiding behind a curtain with a playful smile, dark haired and dark eyed with a scar over his nose and a light in his face, blood splattered over all the curtains around him. And, just as soon as it had come, it had gone.

Ashling stood against her door, using it for support. She'd never encountered a person with a dream so vivid. Strong, yes - her brother Caughney's dreams were so loud, she'd had to ward his entire room, but to be so vivid and defined as to break into her mind, become visible in the ergomund that lay just beyond sight - that took a lot of power. She took a deep breath, trying to scrub the plethora of emotions the dream had both invoked and pushed on her. Such... such joy mingled with such terror. She opened her door a crack, looking out to the individual sleeping on her sofa.

Teaching him was going to be interesting.


A/N: Hello, sawatdee kha, aloha, shalom! I am still, indeed, alive, and I'm still writing this story. I apologize for the length - I just hope that it's interesting enough to make up for the obscene length of the chapter. I didn't want to divide it, because everything in the chapter is supposed to tie back into each other. School's about to start, and I hope all of you good people are ready! I certainly am not, but of course, what am I doing? Writing fanfiction, so I guess I'm not a very good role model...

A big, big thank you to karina001 for her very epic review. I love the things she's brought up in her review, mainly because it's things I haven't considered myself, and I see what you mean. Thank you for pointing it out, or else I would've completely missed it. Also, big thanks to toadstoolteaparty for putting in their input towards the last chapter. It's always nice to be supported one way or another.

Also, I love that I now have two new subscribers. Everyone, give a hand to LadySqueak and fading ink!

I regret to inform the populace (at least, of this story) that there are no new favoriteers to join your ranks. I apologize for the inconvenience.

And for the discussion questions! How was the style of the second section of the story that was largely dialogue? Was this an interesting writing device? Or was it annoying? What do you make of the mysterious figure from the fourth section? Kanda's dreams are spilling out - how do you think this will affect those witches around him or his current predicament of staying hidden? What do you make of Ashling, the deaf witch? How well are the characters characterized? Who, so far, is your favorite OC? Who is your favorite canon character? What emotions are invoked during this chapter; hope, fear, worry, excitement, shock, surprise? What characters do you wish you could see more of (canon and OC)?

You know the drill; God bless you, and happy reading!