In the dead of night, as moonlight dapples upon the leafy forest floor, there is a sense of beauty and peaceful rest. The tranquility only serves to mock him for that which he cannot achieve. Even after spending most of the day punishing his body through the tunnel project, he does not feel the lag of fatigue nor the culling of slumber. He only burns. Which is why he had decided to walk through the forest after resurfacing from underground and noting the damp land. Though he is quite confident in his building skills, he checks in on the hut for leaking.
The cooler air helps soothe his heated muscles, the wetness of the ground adding a bite to the chill. By the time he reaches the small shelter, he's thankful that he brought the purchases from this morning so that he has a reason to stay inside for a while.
Seated at the simple table, Slade uncovers and unwraps herbs and figurines, ingredient vials and candle boxes, amulets and gemstones. One small stone strikes his intrigue. It's deep red shade and faceted face reminds him of something he's seen before. The nameless, shapeless memory baffles the quiet man. He tosses the gem across the table with a sneer, busing himself with the rest of his items.
He needs to continue his research. Being a slave to chance and beholding the virtue of patience isn't as rewarding as going for what he wants and taking it. He can't wait for a gang of buffoons to draw out the team for his plans to take action. Maybe a quick visit as the team sleeps would benefit more, if only to plant his bug in their system tonight. He won't chance trading books in the empath's room while she accompanies it. Things would not bode well should she awaken.
A stealth mission might be exactly what he needs.
As he places the last item on the table, he makes up his mind. He'll go tonight. And should Robin discover him, Slade might take great pleasure to beat the young man down for being a contributing factor to Grant's death. As he has for years prior.
An hour later, the mask rests upon its rightful place as the plated black body suit molds to his form, weighing him down with nothing more than a thought. Used to the heavier armor, this is practically weightless to him. He clicks on the utility belt, checking and double checking every important item necessary for a flawless mission, the bug safe in a sealed case.
With a quick start of his bike, Slade is on his way, making sure to take back roads to the bay.
Considering his speed, the late-night people would mistake his mask for a normal motorcycle helmet and would fail to recognize how slow they were to the world's best mercenary. He keeps to the shadows when he can anyway to avoid the street cameras capturing his image. When he reaches a blind spot close enough to the tower, he dismounts and sprints the rest of the way. No need for a noisy engine to give away his position. For all that's good and evil, Slade doesn't want to be confused for that Lobo idiot.
The Pacific Ocean night air being too cold for civilians to haunt the bay, he strides along the empty pier to reach the closest point from the mainland to the rocky island. Soft waves crash on the beach and wooden posts, though it swallows up his graceful dive easily. Around the kicking legs and circling arms, the water consumes the villain and awakes his senses with its cold embrace, though it eventually begins to numb them. He continues to push, much like he did in the tunnel. Become blind to the pain until progress is made. When he touches ground on the little island, the numbness recedes only to leave a slight burn upon and under his skin.
This pile of rock has countless security devices planted within it, but all of it child's play to avoid. All it takes to cross their 'yard' undetected is a series of calculated leaps and lithe flips. An unwired ventilation shaft is the perfect entry point. After the ascent of the initial climb into the tower, he's careful to distribute his weight so the metal sheets don't bend and rumble as he inches along. Having previously studied the blueprints for past missions, finding the living room takes no time.
Opening the vent near his knees, Slade takes a moment to gaze around the room for signs of life. Noting nothing stirring, he takes out a thick, long, metal rod and rams it through the top of the shaft and into the support beam just beyond where it clicks open creating a claw. Once secured in place the attached rope falls to the ground allowing the man to slide down quietly.
He lands on the coffee table insurmountable ease, taking another look around before continuing with the task. Removing the access panel on their main computers is quick and easy. It's finding the right group of wires that would take a moment. Useless bunches of cords for allowing the childish members to immerse themselves in their games and films hinder the search.
A sly grin hides under the mask as his hands finally find the right cords. Taking care not to trip off any alarms, he cuts the wires in a certain order to rip off a bit of the rubber tubing. He fishes out the bug and begins twisting the wires on the corresponding nubs on both sides. It's complete. He slowly pulls his hands out and clicks the panel back in place.
Unfortunately, he could have sworn he heard something on the other side of the room beyond the metallic snap. Carefully staying in the dark, his eye darts around for the source of the noise.
Was that a shout?
Curious, Slade creeps past the large couch and automatic doors to his left. The dark, empty halls drag on. This area of the tower houses the changelings' and Raven's quarters. Is one of them still awake? Another shout echoes down from a set of stairs. Following the general direction, he arrives at Raven's level. The next floor up would be the beastly boy's if Slade remembers the blueprints correctly.
If Raven still awake, he should turn back, but the man feels compelled to find the source of the shouts. He waits for another one.
It comes, but it's quieter than the others. Undoubtedly, it's feminine.
He reaches the door with her name plate on it, listening very closely past the metal. Faint sounds of an occupied mattress and ruffling sheets come through. She must be having a nightmare. This could be his chance to finish his contract. It's a cowards way of eliminating targets, but she is strong and skilled in ways he does not know. It'll be better for her anyway. He remembers her hardships.
A sliver of silver flashes in his hand, a sharp glint in the darkness. Steeling his aura, he bypasses the door. Her room is utterly different in the dark. The grotesque statues appear downright evil and the dark colors absorb all light. The filtered window blocks out most of the moonlight. Very ominous, but still very beautiful. His eye falls on the lumps in the bed. Whimpers fill the small room. Slade approaches the side of her bed, his indistinct shadow blanketing the upset woman.
I've come to respect your intellect, Raven, he thinks, not willing to utter a word in this room.
Surely a battle of wits could have transpired between us. Maybe in time, I would've fully respected you as an equal. As it is, I'll be kind and make you feel only a little more pain after this.
He raises the blade a little higher over her chest with a set, emotionless gaze in his eye. That's when a crystal tear falls from her eye, the tiny star quickly absorbing into her pillow. The building bloodlust vanishes outside his control. Sneering, he tries to remember his anger and rage, holding the blade very firmly.
It won't come.
He can't numb his mind against the rising, unwarranted concern for the woman. It seems that defeating her in the heat of battle is the only way to go, as his honor code states. He sheathes the knife, but remains overshadowing her fitful figure. She looks so small and helpless in the fetal position, though Slade knows when she's awake, she is in unyielding storm hiding behind a sunny day, the sky blank of clouds. Her face, empty of emotion.
Blank? Empty? Unlikely. She feigns emptiness for that sake of her self control.
Proof that she does feel sits in this very room. His eye falls on her diary. Temptation wins him further over.
Silently, he walks around the bed to the shelves and eases out the book. He continues where he left off and once more, he is thrown into her words. Such pain of paints the picture of her life and the need to control herself is more important than ever. She cares for her friends and doesn't wish to see them hurt. There is a new entry. Lost. Lonely. Now that her father is defeated, she doesn't know what to do. Something is missing.
Her words very nearly reflect his own recent awareness of such feelings. The hand of Fate does indeed lay heavy over them. At least her torment will end soon whilst his waking torture will march ever on.
He replaces the book and stares the slumbering woman. In a way, they are very similar in their timelessness. Perhaps that is why he respects her so. She currently has a sane grip of her eternity while his hold hasn't been as clear since before the experiment.
A grip on his heart mentally stumbles the man as he glances upon her now peaceful face. Any twist of fear long gone from her soft features. Has her nightmare ended? Curious, he leans over her noting a hint of an unearthly fruit that seems to be just her.
"Sleep well, Raven. Morning dawns soon and the evening of your life is just beginning."
Gently, he moves a strand of hair behind her ear and vacates the room shortly after.
}-{
The Tower is dark and quiet. Not even the lights of city cars can reach this place so far out into the bay water. A lone mug sits on the counter in the living room, having been long left there the empath.
Robin is just stumbling back to his room from a night in his trophy room after the film. Probably had been looking up any leads on Slade again, but in turn only makes himself dog tired. No doubt he would be out cold in ten minutes flat once his head touches its pillow. Not minding Star's sleeping figure under his covers.
Cyborg is sure to be charging in his chambers. He spent his evening tinkering and deeply contemplating the coming future with the Justice League. Beast Boy, on the other hand, played videos games in his room until late, trying to ignore the coming pressure of expectations from the older adults.
Raven lay in her bed, tossing every once and a while. Her nightmares now seem greet her less frequently, much to her pleasure. She needs her sleep in order to remain in control. Her cloak lay neglected in a heap in the corner as she had opted to gracelessly clamber into bed, snuggling into her large t-shirt until sleep comes.
Though, she moans as she restlessly turns over, this time having slightly more trouble finding a comfortable position. Finally at ease, she falls back into a deeper sleep within minutes.
Raven's mind is void of dreams until her rest plunges into the depths of a dark recess. Trigon's voice mutters, in circling echoes, curses and horrible promises as she sits alone in a cave. Red light flashes, and she feels a consuming heat writhe around her arms and legs as it drags her into the earth.
Terra's mocking voice rumbles within the crushing rock...she knows Beast Boy still misses the blonde. But Raven can't help feel a little resentment towards the woman. She had been a great challenge to Raven's composure. Unknowingly, Raven's brow furrows while she sleeps as her body curls up tighter, suddenly cold in spite of the warm room. But why would Terra haunt her now? Why Trigon? Why couldn't she be left alone and have a good dream, or better yet, no dreams at all?
Raven's nightmare eventually subsides. A subconscious awareness of the ghost of an aura. It calms her, though she can hardly detect it, but its presence does wonders. Her terrifying dreams vanish.
The next morning, Raven awakens feeling relatively well rested. Whether this is due to her adequate rest last night or her solo training session before bed, she feels notably better. So much so, that she strides to the common area for her usual morning tea, heading straight to the kitchen sink to wash her mug. That's when she can sense a cloud of shock and amazement fill the room.
All four pairs of eyes stare her down. That's when she realizes that she hadn't bothered to change into her uniform. "What?" She inquires, as if they all have three heads as she prepares her tea still feeling the weight of their gaze. "Okay, I forgot to change, so what?"
Her heavy tone tinted with a taste of humor, albeit a little sarcastic. They are in awe. She has uttered more words to them in the last few minutes than she had in the past three days combined. Their awe continues as they hear she soft humming while she waits for her water to boil. As if her rare bout of contentedness is contagious, the silence ends and the previous conversation ensues. The entire mood of the team seems to lighten further, like they were waiting for the missing piece before their morning could truly become good.
Meanwhile, she pours the water into the deep purple mug, giving it a stir before letting the herbs steep. The process familiar, comfortable even. And if she's honest with herself, it makes her happy. She wasn't able to have open access to her own drink through much of her childhood, if she was offered anything other than water.
Since living on Earth and earning her keep, she can afford anything she desires and she has chosen this as her personal vice. Should she ever lose her hero status, her well earned funds would budget this little habit in, no exception.
Grinning at her self proclamation, she uses her magic to drain the tea bag and throw it away while she stirs in honey to the mug as she ponders this revelation. Smiling at the thought of her morning brew as a potion, reminding herself how close Halloween is by now. One of her favorite Earth holidays, which serves as another something that makes her happy. It seems so simple to feel nice at the moment. Why can't it always be this easy?
Nevertheless, she continues to enjoy herself as she joins her friends at the couch. She doesn't join them in the conversation, nor does she tune in the words being said. She simply enjoys the atmosphere of a good morning.
Around noon, the Tower alarms go off. The sensors locating the scene of the crime and the perpetrator, the large screen showing the process and city news feeds. It reveals Mumbo Jumbo terrorizing the citizens in a ritzy part of town. Seeing this, the team rushes to the location.
They find him cackling like the madman he is in a jewelry store, necklaces floating in lazy lines around the store and disappearing into his hat while he taps his cane at the display cases where all the rings float in a line along the cane and into his sleeve.
Before he finishes his breath and notices the arrival of the heroes, Raven shadow jumps behind the villain center stage and catch the tacky magician off-guard enough to dispel his magic. All the attempted robbery amounted up to is a return trip to jail.
In spite of the easy win, in Raven's head, there is still turmoil. As the afternoon wares on, having to deal with emergency services about the transport of the villain and the traumatized people, her good mood seems to have grown small.
"That was so great, the way Raven just ZAPPED in and POW! Bye bye, Mumbo Lamo!" Beast Boy exclaims with vigor, throwing his arms in the air as they head for the T-Car and R-Cycle.
"That insult attempt was lame," Cyborg quips.
The green changeling shrugs. "Not all jokes will land. It's a learning process."
Cyborg chuckles and rolls his eyes, settling into the driver's seat, waving at Robin as he mounts the cycle. Beast Boy joins Cy up front while the women file into the back seats. The center console is still showing the news station Cyborg tuned into during the ride in.
"Mumbo Jumbo is off the streets, thanks again to Jump City's heroes, the Teen Titans. It was a speedy victory, ensuring the safety of the citizens and one less psycho loose on the streets. Back to you, Shelly," the reporter, a slim woman in a red blazer says, the background behind her showing the remaining emergency services on-site.
A woman seated in the main studio takes place on the screen. "Thanks Jennifer. Now, a look at this week's forecast-."
Beast Boy flips the channel.
It is now an infomercial about ShamWow. The immature adult seems fascinated and keeps it on, oohing and ahing.
With a groan, Cyborg switches off the center, turning on the radio instead, making sure to be on a channel that team has already collectively agreed on some years ago. The ride home is quiet otherwise.
As soon as they return to the Tower, she retreats to her room before lunch. Her choice being to lay in bed, wishing the good feeling will come back.
Robin's voice soon calls out to her, trying to coax her out for lunch. If she tries to join them, she's afraid that her now sour mood will burden the team in contrast to the heavenly morning. She denies Robin's attempts, sensing how he isn't happy about being turned away without much of an explanation, again. Her heart stings then, aches something terrible like she made a bad choice. Yet again, another bad choice.
She levitates her journal and pen to her side, not wanting to get up from bed. An unpleasant weight keeps her face burrowed in her pillow, this feeling of guilt maddening.
Am I burden? A cloud on their sunny day?
What am I to them? How much has changed from our past?
What do I now do for them in return for their acceptance?
Is my presence still beneficial for the team, especially with these new changes?
Will my rain ruin their parade and drag them down?
She feels as if Timid is writing through her.
They all mesh so nicely without me, their energy for fun endless.
While I simply belong in my room, living in this void of existence
and watch as time marches on.
When will my end come now that I've circumvented the previous prophecy?
I refused my demise then, yet long for it now!
What is wrong with me?
Sighing, she drops the pen letting it roll down the page only to tumble under the fold of a bedsheet. Raven, on the other hand, shadow grabs the new horror book and settles into her chair again, wanting to save the rest of the fantasy novel a break before she finishes it. This is also interesting as her eyes glide across the pages, glued to the very words. Not as good as the other fiction one, though. Well, so far.
Unfortunately, the words fade from her vision as her thoughts shift to seeing Robin and Starfire so in love. How Raven might not be able to love like that due to just being her. She has trained for all these years, yes, but a great force of emotion might still be too powerful to her to control. And she has, at least, read into the very act of mortal pleasure. The French word for the great height of lust translates to The Little Death and the very thought of that scares Raven. She will lose control when she can't, but she know that she craves it.
There's a deep, dark desire within her that has grown prominent in her psyche since the peak of her coming- of- age. The very emotion only recently growing a form within the Nevermore, but this clone hasn't presented herself to the others yet. If Raven can help it, she never will. She can't afford that risk.
Yet she can't help the desire to simply love and be loved so deeply with that one person that was made for her. The romantic in her has always latched unto the soulmate principle, but the cynic in her has always reminded her that what soul would be made for a half-demon like herself. Not a decent soul anyway, if anything.
And what's even crazier is how the pale girl previously considered briefly releasing Malchior once more.
Alright- not releasing him, but opening the book so she had someone to talk to. Sure, he was evil and tried to kill her, whatever, but...she sighs.
She feels like she has no one. She is isolated. She will always be isolated. Sure, she has Cyborg, who is like her protective older brother, and she has Robin- with whom she shares a bond since the ordeal that strange night when he almost died form a heart attack induced by the hallucinating of Slade- but as for what was going on in her head lately, she felt like she just could not dump all of that weird on them.
Unable to focus, Raven puts the book down, setting in a bookmark as always. She sits up straight in the chair and glances around the room. What should she do? Meditate? She could do that tonight to help her sleep easier.
Although for some reason last night she slept fine- for the most part- even with a lack of meditation that day.
She could go for a walk, but she doesn't feel like walking through the throngs of Jump City, even if she has seldom fans. Though those who aren't familiar with the heroes still would single her out. She does naturally have purple hair and gray skin and she wouldn't change her style to conform to people's expectations of aesthetic.
Falling back on her bed, Raven moans in frustration. She feels so pent up here, trapped. Suddenly, the empath accumulates an idea in her bored, frantic mind. She hasn't been there in a while.
Taking the form of a black raven made of energy, she phases to the roof. Immediately, she takes in a breath of fresh air. It smells slightly salty from the ocean beyond. She closes her eyes and drinks in the openness around her, feeling the breeze whip her violet locks around her face.
This is a nice change of pace, but the taste of freedom is short lived. This is a temporary escape. Raven looks down at her shoes and then up again at the sunset. The fading light stains the wispy clouds in hues of soft rose and a muted pastel orange. It is beautiful.
However, Raven wishes she could have someone to share it with.
"You have me!" Happy squeals from Nevermore.
With a quiet growl from Raven, her emotion is quieted once more.
}-{
Only after he arrives back home is when he realizes exactly what he had done in those chambers. He has shown compassion, for a target no less. And he made the illogical mistake to speak aloud, going so far as to tell her that she is to die as well. Yes, she was asleep, but he doesn't know the limits of her empathic abilities. He's not sure just how much she has grown.
"Dammit," he hisses as he rests in his own bed. "There goes the element of surprise."
He knows that is a lie. The only thing he's truly upset over is most likely not being able to see that look of horror when a target is dying by his hands. Slade tries to imagine that shock on her, but all he can come up with is that gentle, sleeping face.
"Dammit," he repeats, turning to his side to fall asleep.
It is a fitful rest. The first in a long while. Upon waking, the mental images immediately disappear. Whatever bothered him could not be remembered. Severely upset at the pitiful slumber, he spends the moment upon awaking in the access tunnel. Yard by yard, the tunnel grows in length. It isn't until a device on his person sounds an alarm. His mission last night is a success.
Within moments, he speeds out of the tunnel and changes into his uniform, ready to switch out the books. On the way to the tower, Slade notes the disregard for reality in a section of the city showcasing the site of the battle between the Titans and the magician fluke. Slade won't have much time to spare for this mission. Kicking his cycle up a gear, he rides to the tower and sneaks with haste into Raven's room. He places the books in their respective spaces except for two. He distinctly remembers taking one of the books from where a fiction book currently sits.
To keep up appearances, Slade takes a white book on the same shelf to make room for the leftover books. Pulling a few more out of the other shelves, he stuffs them in a bag and makes his way out. Driving away, he could just see their homemade car and the R-Cycle drive away from the crime scene having dealt with the magic misfit. Through the window, Slade can see the cloaked woman sport a small a grin. Or he thinks there's one considering the distance and his dark helmet visor.
Maybe he hasn't ruined the mission last night. Good. Now he can focus solely on his research without that possibility plaguing his mind.
For the rest of the afternoon, he studies the books and makes more notes. One ritual is described to summon a portal to other dimensions, but it requires a seasoned Mage to safely do so. Damn. It appears that he'll have to steal items that might have found their way in this dimension should he need them. If anything, as a last choice, he could blackmail Raven. Indirectly, of course, but only if he absolutely needs to do that. He claims the current book and leans back in his chair.
Slade begins to question why a Leaguer would condone a kill. Isn't that against the Founder's rules? Especially Batman's and Superman's? It would be nice to finish the mission, get paid, and upturn the League's nest with leaked info concerning Zatanna.
A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest when a knock on his study sounds. Wintergreen comes in to place dinner on top of a pile of folders and leave without a word. Among friends, words aren't really needed. Near the tray is the white book. It's odd color should have caught his eye before, but somehow he just bypassed it the other night. Intrigued, he opens the cover and notes that it's a tale following a young magician named Rorek on the pursuit of a dragon called Malchior.
A page, then, turns by itself. Slade turns it back. Two pages turn. Four. Eight. All the pages until it stops on a torn page with illustrated eyes. Then, the pages flee from their bindings to form a humanoid figure.
"Now you will perish, Raven!" A flame appears in the being's hands.
"She's not here. You'll have to leave a message." Slade, though momentarily caught unaware, remains cool.
The flames dissipate as the being lowers itself to the ground. "How did I leave her room?"
"I took you, believing you were a research text and not a living prison."
"You entered her room? I remember that she's very severe about keeping her room off-limits. How did you enter without her noticing?"
"Simple. She doesn't know and won't find out."
"Why are you taking her books?"
Slade narrows his eye. "You're asking too many questions for my taste. Retreat to your binding else I'll murder you as well."
"'As well'?" The being asks as he scans Slade. "Ah, you are a natural-born killer like myself, but you lack magic knowledge though you have the knack for it. That is the reason for 'borrowing' Raven's books. Who are you trying to destroy?"
Slade remains silent. There's something sour and almost pitiful about this being that makes him want to put it out of its misery. He dodges the question nevertheless.
"Who are you?"
The paper shape raises itself in pride. "I am Malchior, the terrible dragon. The sorcerer, Rorek, tried to defeat me but he was weak. Instead he turned me into a book. I am simply too powerful to die at the hands of a mortal.
"That's nice," Slade drones, uncaring of the talking kindling now. "I have work to do, so retreat back now or I'll kill you myself and believe me, I am no mere mortal."
A moment of silence falls on the room.
"Very well." The pages undo from the shape and return seamlessly into the binding. "Should you need assistance, I can help."
Slade scoffs. "Unlikely," and the book slams closed.
The rest of the night is uneventful other than the research.
His eye burns after keeping it open for so long, reading page after page. The fatigue from not sleeping well takes it toll. It's not new at all when Wintergreen finds him softly breathing, literally nose deep in a book hours later. Being older, he couldn't lift Master Wilson to bed and he dare not wake him. Doing the only thing he can do for the master is lay a blanket over his shoulders.
Inside the mind of the morally corrupt man is a different story.
Memories flash around with a sense of urgency. None of the memories behold his greatest feats and prowess. No. These that plague him all are those nights with his wife as an inexperienced lad, then those of seduction with targets. None very recent. He hasn't even thought of women like that since he went after the Titans. That's nearly been seven years since he declared war on the heroes. Seven years of denying pleasures of the flesh other than his brutal work.
Seeing these sensual dream flashbacks leaves a rising want, startling him awake. Evidence is his need fills the space in his trousers. Growling at the inconvenience, he ignores it until the throbbing stops and the tightness subsides.
Suddenly, a muffled sound echoes around the room. It's that origami nutcase.
"What do you want?" He asks sarcastically, but the dragon is already muffling his question. "Wait a moment," he pulls open the cover and the pages turn themselves to the eyes. "Don't get out of your book," Slade warns.
"Of course." The books says with respect. "I wanted to say that you're not going to get very far in your studies sleeping like that. If you let me teach you, you could read an entire library in a single night."
"I'm not going to take advice from someone who got transformed into a book and got beaten up by teenager."
"I allowed myself to be just slightly entranced by Raven. Her magic compliments my own, I must admit, and from what I understand of most human cultures I can agree that she would make a very fine slave. Possibly a better concubine. If I were mortal..." The pages chuckle with a hunger Slade has heard in the slums of cities.
"If you were mortal and attempted to enslave her, she would destroy you within seconds. Do you know of Trigon?"
"Aye, he is the lord of pure evil. A great trans-dimensional being capable of utter destruction."
"It was prophesied that he would come to this realm and take it over, but even he was no match for Raven. If she could defeat her father, a great lord of evil, what do you think she could do to you, mortal or immortal?"
The book falls silent.
"Imagine what she could do to you now."
"Alright, alright. But even you must admit that she is quite the beauty. Even I can see that and I hate humans. There's something about her taste of darkness that's oddly comforting and when she does smile, may the world burn in Eternal Flame."
When the dragon mentions how he views her, Slade sees something different. She has that darkness, yes, but she also has a light that burns the very shadows to nothing. He witnessed it firsthand during the fall of Trigon. Though, he's never seen her smile. Not at him. There have been times when he used to tail Robin that Slade had seen her smiles in general. Even tragic heroes like her can carry a light no matter how small.
There's a reason the Titans continue to be her friends. Her strength and determination to control herself throughout her youth has truly made her powerful, but it's the overwhelming drive for goodness that helps keep them together. She is the voice of reason when Boy Wonder is losing his mind and pure joy when she sets her mind to it. In all these ways, yes, she is quite beautiful.
"Hello? Modern warrior?"
"What?" Slade snaps.
"You went quiet. Were you thinking about her?"
Slade's eye widens. He thought of her, not as a target, but a fellow person. All because the potential kindling started the train of thought. A rolling growl reverberates in his chest, his jaw stiffening.
"I'm sending you back, now!"
"Wait-," the book shuts closes under a heavy hand.