So, hey all. I'm back – sort of. But before we get to the story, here's a few things;

I'm sorry, I didn't understand that the Dark Court only fed from faeries and not humans, it was a 'duh' move on my part, but to change that at this point would greatly hinder the storyline. I began to write this BEFORE Fragile Eternity, so things that were unexplained at that time... Well, I filled in my own blanks (same goes for Radiant Shadows). I'm also very sorry that I'm sporadic about this, coming back and forth. Final note, obviously time has passed since I've started this so hopefully my writing style is more mature, and not so many typos/errors. Thank you guys :D

Irial's shoulders were tense as he turned to look at Leslie. He kept his eyes guarded, and his mouth was tilted down in a sour look, as he looked into her eyes. She regarded him, at that moment, with such animosity it made his mouth suddenly parched. Oh, how she could bring him to his knees! He carefully slipped his phone back into his pocket, before realizing that Amora was staring, and speaking, though he didn't hear her words. From Leslie's response to her, he could guess that it was something along the lines of them knowing each other.

"You could say that." Leslie said, her tone showing how piqued she was.

Irial took a gulp back of his brew, before smiling wickedly at Amora. "We used to date." Leslie looked down with shame in her eyes, "But she moved away. Funny, now I'm seeing her everywhere."

Leslie gave a small 'hmph', and whisked herself away to go attend to the bar. Irial couldn't help but wonder if it pained her as much to be in his presence as it did he – perhaps it would mean he wasn't as weak as he thought himself, if she felt it too. Amora refilled his glass. "On me." she said, turning away to work as well.

Irial chose that moment to take his leave, leaving the still cold drink resting, untouched, on the bar.

~x~

As Amora was leaving the bar that night, her boots on her sore feet but not tied up and some tips stuffed into her bag which she kept slung on her shoulder, she felt a hand on her arm and turned with a slight 'yip'. Her shoulders relaxed as Leslie's increasingly familiar face greeted her. The look, however, was unfamiliar, but somehow Amora got the hint Leslie was scared.

Leslie's eyes probed Amora's, looking for anything that would indicate she was going to run. When she knew that Amora wasn't going to, she relaxed and withdrew her hand, though her eyes still flitted around the parking lot. "May I have a ride home? I walked, but now my feet are sore." It was a lie, but Amora couldn't know that. Plus, when she cast a look down at Leslie's shoes – high heels worthy of a pin-up girl – she smiled sympathetically and nodded.

"Yeah sure, you'll just have to direct me to where you live." Amora answered, turning again and walking with Leslie in tow to her car. There was a moment of silence, somewhat awkward, as Amora sat rubbing her hands together against the slight chill in the car.

"So. I didn't get a good look at your tattoo before we were... Distracted." Leslie said, with a flinch that didn't go unnoticed.

Amora, still proud of the ink, smiled a million-watt smile. She lifted her shirt a bit, exposing the tattoo, and Leslie sucked in a breath.

There had to be something special about eyes, Leslie thought to herself. But what really shocked her, was the beauty of it, even if it was just a dull outline. Her hand, of it's own accord, reached out and hovered an inch above the skin, right where the form of Niall's scar was. Her other hand, once again acting as if someone else controlled it, reached behind her back to touch her own tattoo, still there and still beautiful. But Leslie couldn't deny it; Amora's was beautiful as well. What was it that was always said – something about pain and beauty, the two mixing together being inevitable. Leslie closed her eyes and slumped back against the seat, pressing her finger tips to her eyes. She could hear Niall's assurances in her mind that this would be okay, that Amora would be fine, would be 'untouched' by this. Leslie had a hard time believing that. She also, in the 'brief' time that she had known Amora, had a hard time believing she wouldn't grow sick from this. The girl was too happy, too ignorant of the world she was about to be part of, and too pure in Leslie's eyes. Amora, what have you done? Leslie thought to herself, unable to voice the words, too scared.

"Leslie?" Amora inquired finally, concern making her lips press together. She peered at Leslie, reaching out a hand to touch Leslie's shoulder.

Leslie flinched away, before giving Amora a small, fake, smile. She tossed her hair behind her shoulder, before nodding. "Sorry, I just have a headache."

Amora smiled knowingly, before putting the car in drive. "I know what that's like. I have some aspirin in the glove box." she said, gesturing with a flick of her head. She steered with one hand, a little on the fast side, and undid her hair so that it swooshed down around her shoulders and down her back. She returned both hands to the wheel, speeding a little more now that she had more control over the car. Amora liked to drive fast, and had even dabbled in bits of racing while she was still in high school.

"So where do you live?" Amora asked Leslie, not taking off the road. She drove fast, but not stupidly.

Leslie gave her distinct directions, that didn't truly allow for conversation. Amora hummed to herself along with a song on the radio, though she didn't play it loudly like she would have if she was alone. "So, Irial said that you moved away."

Leslie took a moment to answer, before nodding. "I did. I needed time to myself." Leslie said with a shrug, as they neared the Huntsdale city limits. Leslie lived just on the outskirts of town. Obviously she hadn't been quite able to move back in, not all the way.

Amora still had to ask. "So why are you back now?"

Leslie smiled, a real one though it was wistful. "I don't have many good memories here, Amora. But I'm afraid that it doesn't change the fact that this is my home. I can run, and I can hide. But I'm so tired of it. I have my bachelor's degree in psychology. I'd like to become a school guidance counselor." Here she paused, gathering her thoughts. "If this is a place that gave me bad memories, then maybe I can help someone fix their's." If it had been anyone else, this could have been regarded as a big admission, of a deep dark secret. For most people, it was something they wouldn't tell someone after only a few hours of knowing them. Leslie wasn't most people – the skeletons in her closet were much worse. This was just a little bit of her, not even close to a huge admission. It was something she didn't have a problem telling people, for they were her ambitions. To Leslie, it was her proof that she was finally becoming free – she was bettering herself, and maybe even going to better other's.

A small smile was in Amora's voice as she responded softly, "I think that's a lovely thing." She turned to face Leslie, and for some reason could instantly picture her with Irial. Maybe she had been the chink in Irial's onyx-colored armor. Amora couldn't have known that he still was.

Leslie smiled, but didn't say anything – Amora had pulled up to the curb of Leslie's apartment building. "Thank you for the ride home, Amora." she murmured, and hesitated. She'd completely forgotten her cause – she was going to tell Amora to remove the ink, try to persuade her to. For some reason, she found the girl easy to talk to. Maybe she was just one of those charismatic people. As Leslie glanced over at her, and the way her face was lit slightly by a cell phone that she had pulled out and was playing with in her lap, she sighed to herself. Even if Amora was charismatic, Leslie realized the real reason was because she wanted to save Amora. She didn't want her in the same position that she had been in.

Leslie smiled suddenly, as a thought came to her. She may not have warned Amora as she had originally planned to, but perhaps she could make a difference. She hesitated, her door on the handle. "Amora, when is your next session for the tattoo?" she asked, a perfectly normal question.

Amora glanced up from her phone, and smiled, tilting the screen at her. "I just texted Rabbit now to ask him when I can come in."

Leslie's smile grew, but just a bit. "Amora, can I maybe come with you, when you go? Rabbit used to be a good friend of mine, and it'd be nice to visit. He did a tattoo for me as well."

Amora smiled and nodded, handing her phone to Leslie. "Put in your number, I'll text you when I know."

Leslie did as Amora asked, and got out of the car, bidding her goodnight. Perhaps if she couldn't convince Niall and Irial that the inc exchanges were wrong, maybe she could straight from the source – Rabbit.

If it were to stop now... Maybe Amora would be saved.

~x~

Amora too, lived in an apartment, just herself and her cat, Minxy. Minxy was a 'munchkin cat', a breed who's legs were shorter than the average cat. Minxy was a tubby cat, her belly barely off the ground, and had a rich black coat with white stripes on her body here and there, and green eyes. For Amora, she was her only company, and that was fine by her.

"Hi baby!" Amora cooed as she edged in the door, Minxy meowing and twisting through Amora's legs. It was midnight, but that was Amora's regular schedule. She was almost nocturnal, with the working at the bar and what not. She kicked off her shoes once again, a little bit of a dance in her step as she wandered to the fridge, taking out a can of wet cat food and cold spaghetti. She put the spaghetti in her microwave, and turned her radio on again, bopping around her kitchen/dining room as she did so. When her food was put on the floor, Minxy gobbled it right up, her meowing finally stopping.

Amora left Minxy to her dinner as her own heated up, going to her bedroom and pulling out a ratty tee shirt and black shorts for pajamas. She didn't care if it was -10 degrees out, she still wore shorts to bed. She stopped in front of her mirror before changing, and pulled up her shirt to stare at her tattoo. She smiled slightly, running her fingers down the line of the scar. She pulled up Niall's eyes in her mind, and could almost paste them in color and detail onto where they would go on the tattoo. She couldn't help but smile, so happy with the tattoo. Her head began to loll back, as a wave of dizziness came out of nowhere. She sat down on the edge of her bed, holding her head in her hand and blinking rapidly at her reflection. She met her reflection's eyes, and thought that she could see a hazy black outline around her body, almost like an aura, but moving and slithering. Amora widened her eyes and blinked a few times, before it was gone again.

I'm over tired, or over hungry. She amended, as she rose from the bed, her legs sturdy. Her head began to feel heavy though, as suddenly a taste of worry rolled through her mouth, and her stomach's edge of hunger seemed to fade just a bit. She gave a gasp, putting her hand to her stomach, and looking out the window. She swore she could see a faint line of a person, standing across the street from the apartment, staring up at her window, staring at her.

Amora stumbled back, her legs hitting the edge of the bed and forcing her to sit down. When she stood again though, craning her head, the figure was gone. The dinging of both her microwave and her cell phone made her turn away, but not before drawing the curtains closed. She looked at her phone first, a small smile lighting up her face, the figure across the street forgotten.

"Come in tomorrow b4 you go to work." It was from Rabbit. A slow smile tilted her lips as she did a small dance, before forwarding the text to Leslie.

~x~

It had been Niall, outside her apartment. Even now, he was still there, watching the light and her shadow, he had just dropped his glamour. He had wanted her to see him; he had wanted to try to see if he could feel her emotions. And oh, he had – fear had filled his mouth, just as happiness was now the taste that lingered. He didn't tilt it out to his court, no. He simply tasted it, didn't sip it and feed himself, a bit off the edge of his hunger.

Try as he did, Niall couldn't make himself regret this.

He smiled, a real one, as he turned from watching her window, satisfied when the lights went out. He'd be fine, she'd be fine, they'd all be fine. Maybe he wasn't a bad king after all.