The two-story house in Tal Hoffnung had a mystery, neither waiting to be unveiled, nor giving the locals the notion of its existence. The mystery was only suspect to one man, a man who did not belong there. He'd wandered into the small community just days ago with little to no knowledge about fixing his car. Leaving it stranded on the edge of a road near a cow pasture, he presented himself to the owner of the house on the edge of town, noting the sign near the window that read: Rooms for Rent.

Living there with the owner of the house was his daughter, a woman in her early thirties who enjoyed the little things in life: finding snail shells the size of her pinky nail in the garden and putting them in a jar, for instance. What she would do with them, she didn't know. Next to the jar were odd-shaped rocks of different colors she'd found by the roadside on a warm afternoon. Occasionally, on the days she'd be outside, there would be a local visitor or two coming to buy her father's herbs and spices. When her purple eyes discerned their presence, she fled.

Not wanting to face that fear, she'd hide on the second floor, looking for something to keep her distracted from the stress. That inordinate discomfort always eased off once they'd done their business and were gone, and she could finally be at peace again. There was something about boiling tea and making cookies that always chased away the inner turmoils; something pleasant. Seeing her creations bring a smile to her father's face evoked such joy, and for a moment, she'd forgotten about her troubles. One evening, she made her father tea and brought it to him by the fireplace. Seeing him sign to her how much he appreciated it warmed her heart. The two exchanged gestures, expressing their thoughts on what to make for dinner, when a knock rapped at the front door.

Why is papa looking at the door like that? Is someone here?

"It's quite alright, Eva," her father spoke as he signed to her, "I'll answer it."

He was an older man at the age of seventy, though despite his age, had personable features as he appeared to be twenty years younger. His faded black suit would give anyone the impression that he was a scarecrow turned human, what with the peculiar turquoise strings stitching his sleeves together, as well as the fraying of fibers around the cuffs and stitches. He flung his mauve scarf over his shoulder and answered the door. Eva watched by the fireplace, the discomfort of the stranger's presence clinging to her mind. And with who just showed up, who could blame her?

Unkempt, unclean, and an eerie sense of familiarity. Long, uncombed sable hair rested on his shoulders, sections parting over his eyes. Her father caught himself placing his hand over his nose to block out the stench emanating from him, but instead, moved it behind his back. He shook the gloved hand of the stranger and welcomed him into the house. Eva fought her anxiety, standing by the fireplace pretending to casually serve more tea in her father's already filled cup. Not wanting to make eye contact, she looked over to the stranger, hoping he wouldn't look her way as she studied him.

"Now, we have a few rooms available," her father told him, leading him through the front room, "they're not much, but feel free to make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you." the stranger replied.

Eva read their lips as they spoke to one another, making out the shapes of certain vowels like A and O, the only two she recognized. She proceeded to mind her own business. Maybe the man would be on his way before long and the tension could subside. In the kitchen, her father offered him one of Eva's sugar cookies, to which he declined.

"What, may I ask, is wrong with your car?" Eva's father asked him.

The stranger brushed his dark strands away from his brown eyes, giving him an insincere smile. "Radiator," he explained, "as far as I could tell, anyway. I've got a friend in Vienna who's a mechanic, but he doesn't seem to be answering the phone."

"Stay as long as you need."

"Oh, I'm not sure I can cover the costs." he said.

Eva's father waved a hand in dismissal. "Bahhh, don't fret. You can earn your keep. That should be well enough for what you've been through."

The stranger smirked. "Fair enough."

"May I ask your name?"

There was a dull look in his eyes, not quite empty, but not lively either. "Andrej Chopin," he said, "and yours?"

Eva's father removed his worn, stitched top hat and bowed his head. "M. E. Ambrose. For simplicity's sake, just call me Marlin."

Andrej's ears perked. "Merlin did you say?" he asked, intrigued and slightly suspect.

Marlin's eye contact darted as he fiddled with the ring on his index finger. "A-actually, uh, it's Marlin Edward." He rubbed his neck, trying not to pay any mind to Andrej's sinister stare. "My father was a fisherman, you see. He named me after a blue marlin, of all things."

"Interesting," said Andrej, "naming his own son after his prey."

Unsettling, the way Andrej looked at him; maybe through him. Hopefully not. Marlin swallowed and nearly stumbled, leading the way down the hall. "Th-this way," he said, with his cane gripped tight in his hand, "I'll show you to your room."

Andrej proved within the first week to finish a few tasks here and there, yet when he wasn't earning his keep, he'd be skulking in the shadows keeping a disturbingly close eye on Eva. She wouldn't hear him sneaking by her locked door in the late hours of the night, up to god knows what. She wouldn't hear him making vulgar remarks to himself about her body and what he wanted to do with it upon the eve of his departure. As for Marlin, he kept a keen eye on her, not because he suspected the creepy visitor, but because he couldn't bear to leave her alone for too long in case she began to worry about him.

Usually, if he'd ask, she'd shake her head no that she didn't need anything. It seemed that no matter where she was, Marlin was sure to turn up. Annoying, how inseparable the two seemed to be. Until the fateful night that Gaelstrom and Polnareff passed by the house. Eva pressed her hands against the front room window, feeling the thunder booming in the sky and how its vibrations rattled against the glass. It'd be the closest to hearing sounds she'd ever get and that was, to her, a beautiful experience.

A pair of eyes watched her behind dampened hair in the entryway. Eva's gut told her someone was there, stalking her. As the uncanny atmosphere grew around her, an unmistakable aura pushed every thought in her mind into obscurity, leaving that feeling alone present and foreboding. Maybe just one peek to put her mind at ease. Nothing. Not a soul was there. She scanned the room, knowing for certain that someone had to be. Sauntering up the dark hallway, she looked around. Where was their guest? Better yet, where was her father? The room to the right was empty as well as the kitchen. The guest room at the end of the hall, where the stranger had been sleeping, was also vacant. Upstairs, not a soul stirred. With every glance into each room, panic arose. Where was her father? Why wasn't he there? Where did he go? Eva's breath quickened.

What's happening?

With a high-pitched, throaty voice, she cried out. He'd know, if he heard her at all, that she was calling for him. She made her way, down the stairs, hurrying to the front door. He couldn't be out in that weather. He just couldn't be! What if Andrej killed him? What if she was next? Rounding the corner on the staircase, Eva screamed as she ran into someone and cowered, fearing it was that creep, Andrej.

Two hands clasped onto her shoulders and the hopelessness broke her. Please don't hurt me, I don't know what you want! Gentle pats on the arm reassured her that it couldn't have been who she thought. Standing in front of her was Marlin, signing to her with a look of genuine concern on his face. He spoke aloud as he translated his words with his hand gestures.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Relief. Hiccup-like breaths heaved from her chest as she sobbed into his shoulder. Papa, I was scared. I'm sorry. She wiped her tears away and gestured back to him: I couldn't find you. I thought something awful happened.

Marlin frowned as he hugged her. "Eva...I'm so sorry," he signed, "I was sitting on the porch, please don't be upset."

Eva smiled. Don't worry, she gestured back, I'm fine.

He walked with her down the stairs and into the hallway. He made a motion with his hand, speaking to her again, when another knock at the door interrupted him. There was that look in his eye again, his attention averted to the front door. It couldn't be another visitor. What was her world coming to? Where was the peace? Where was the joy and why was it being snuffed out? She already couldn't trust the one already there, recalling the menacing aura she'd felt earlier; no way was she just imagining it. She didn't want to think about where Andrej was, or what he was doing. Were she there, however, she'd known that Andrej went out the back door earlier that night and into the garden.

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Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a loud crack. A mist settled near the ground, clouding the vision of the rest of the herbs growing out there. Rain pelted the roof as a gust of wind howled against Andrej's body. Something wicked - something feral - stalked past the plants. Snaking out of the mist and into view was a tendril, winding its way across the mud and towards Andrej's feet. More of them weaved around, drawing near as well as something else; their user. Furry ears lied flat on the head of a wolf as it snarled and stepped through the rainy mist and into plain sight.

It skulked closer to Andrej with foam dripping from its mouth. Coiling out of its back weren't tendrils per se, but tree roots. And they extended, twisting and sprouting branches. The roots bore a name unknown to everyone except their user; that name was Lacuna Coil. Andrej's expression never changed; his eyes kept their consistent glare as he anticipated the stand's next move. This would be too easy, without a doubt.

"So, you're the lost pet the old man's been raving about."

Heat lightning illuminated the misty garden, flickering from dark to light:

Flash

The tree roots hastened and the wolf lunged for Andrej's throat.

Flash

Emerging from the palms of Andrej's hands came six-inch, translucent needles, driving into the wolf's throat as he clasped his hands around it. In a futile attempt to defend itself, Lacuna Coil's vines and roots ensnared Andrej's arms, constricting them. The grasp, though strong at first, became weak. Several minutes passed. The wolf's snarling and snapping diminished slowly into raspy breaths, and eventually silence. Life essence - pure ecstasy, quenching Andrej's thirst as though he'd gone days without a tall glass of cold water.

Flash

Roots collapsed beside their lifeless user, shriveling into a dry, hollowed shell. The fight was over, and Andrej kicked the husk of the wolf. Its dusty remains swished over his boot and onto the mud. Nobody would ever know of their encounter. Nobody would ever think to question him about the wolf. It was gone and Andrej left to go inside, never returning a glance behind him.

"Too bad he'll never find you." he said, referring to Marlin and his constant fretting about his canine companion. Thunder rumbled overhead and the skies released a heavier downpour on the valley, over a muddy grave. And that was the end of Lacuna Coil and its sigma.

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Standing on the porch, as the front door opened, was Gael with Coco Jumbo in one hand, and the case carrying the sword in the other. Gael thought Marlin might greet him, ask what he wanted, something. But no, the very idea eluded him at the sight of Gael's broken nose.

"By god!" Marlin exclaimed. "Your nose! What on earth happened?"

Gaelstrom rolled his eyes. "I am not at liberty to discuss that."

Resting his chin between his index finger and thumb, Marlin pondered on something; something Gael would hate him for. "Hold still a moment." he told him.

Marlin reached up to Gaelstrom's nose with his cane under his arm, his other hand out to hold him steady by the shoulder. Gaelstrom's eyes widened and he dodged him, knowing full well what he had in mind, and like hell he was going to let him go through with it. "Hey!" he shouted. "You keep your mitts off my face, what the hell's the matter with you!?"

Marlin sighed.

Clasp

He took ahold of his shoulder firmly, and said, "On three." Who the hell did that old bastard think he was? Putting his hands on him like that without asking. Gaelstrom grit his teeth about to tear into him when Marlin started counting.

"One..."

"Listen, ya aul bat...!"

"...two...!"

Polnareff sniggered. "Oh, I've gotta see this."

At the count of two, Gaelstrom felt a crunch and a sharp pain shooting into his skull. Gggahhhh!

He spat every curse word in the lexicon at Marlin as blood trickled from his nose and tears streamed from his eyes. "You said to the count of three!" Polnareff failed to conceal an escaped snort behind his palm, making Gaelstrom all the more aggravated.

What the hell're YOU laughin' at, Casper!?

Marlin took a deep and steady breath. An unusual light flickered around Gaelstrom's nose as what appeared to be turquoise, thorny vines appeared around his body. Marlin eased his hands away from him with a smile on his face and before Gaelstrom could be certain, the thorns were gone. He dismissed it as nothing more than a hallucination caused by a lack of sleep. And man, did he need it. "Come now, if I had gone to three, you would've expected it. Besides, your nose is fine."

"Whaaat!?"

"See for yourself."

Gaelstrom touched his nose, hardly believing a word Marlin told him. But to his surprise, Marlin was right. His nose was perfectly healed. No fractures, no blood oozing out of his nostrils, nothing. "Holy shit...!" he exclaimed, feeling around his nose and face. "Hey. How'd you do that?"

Polnareff watched in disbelief. "Hold on, what?!"

"Now then," Marlin said, "any other way I can help you?"

Water droplets dripped from the brim of Gaelstrom's fedora; his red hair lost its curl from the rain after trudging along the muddy road. Asking for help normally was a last resort unless he was quite desperate, though in this situation it was more of a matter of obligation. Could the man help him? Yes. Did he want his help? Yes and no. Yes, because he was in a hurry to get out of town and back on the road. No, because he was headstrong. But with the way things were looking, getting anyone out there in a thunderstorm to push a vehicle out of the mud would only inconvenience the ones helping. That weighed on him. He wasn't that selfish.

Renting a room for the night was the only option he had, though he didn't know how to feel about staying in a stranger's home; especially a stranger that gave unexplained, unsolicited medical attention to his guests. He sucked it up and inquired about staying the night, to which Marlin looked surprised. That was odd, he was the one with the advertisement, what was the big deal? Marlin opened the door further, gesturing for Gaelstrom to come in.

The warmth of the fireplace beckoned him to come sit in front of it, just as he used to do as a kid back in Galway. His mum would sit beside him and read or sing to him until he fell asleep some nights. Others, they'd sit and chit-chat to one another and roast marshmallows. Such sweet memories. He wondered if she ever thought about that, too. His reminiscing ceased at the sight of a strange figure traipsing back into a room up the hall, closing the door quietly behind him. Whoever he was didn't sit right with him for some odd reason. Whatever.

Marlin asked for his hat and coat so that he could go warm up by the fire. That sounded fantastic, so he didn't mind handing his drenched coat over to him. With Coco Jumbo by his side at the fireplace, he sat cross-legged, rolling up the sleeves of his dark blue shirt to his elbows. After undoing his green bow-tie, he ruffed up his hair and sighed restfully. Sitting there, he rubbed his nose still perplexed by what Marlin had done. That was a hell of a right hand of his, he supposed, wanting to ask about it. Gaelstrom looked over his shoulder, thinking now would be a good time, but became aware of Marlin and his daughter making hand gestures to each other in the entryway.

What're they sayin'?

He gave a thoughtful look and shrugged it off. Oh, well, he'd try him later. If he didn't know any better, the heat chasing the chill off of him could put him to sleep. Maybe he'd get a good night's rest? Without a doubt, unless Polnareff kept him up all night, talking. Just like he used to do when they were kids.

Being with him now, it didn't really feel the same as it used to. Back then, they were closer and much more energetic. He actually thought of Gaelstrom as a friend; he was alive and not confined to the shell of a tortoise. Gaelstrom recalled holding his hand and what it felt like. Strange how real it felt in his mind, almost as if he'd done it recently. One thing was for certain: he'd never get the chance to touch him again. That alone made his heart sink lower. But deep down, he was grateful for Coco Jumbo. Thank god that reptile's stand for being there when he died. Otherwise, he wouldn't be there with him sitting by a fireplace. Gael would be lamenting over his shortened life with no friends to spend his final moment with.

"Whatcha thinking about so hard?" he heard Polnareff say.

Gaelstrom gazed into the flames with a crooked smile on his face. "Nothin' really." he replied.

The want to tell him that he was glad they were together nearly burst at the seams, but he recalled Polnareff's ill-tempered retort from before. Those words, and their repetition, tossed salt into his wounds.

What makes you think we're friends?

No, best to keep those feelings suppressed, lest he get a response even worse. And knowing Polnareff, it was possible. He had to tread lightly bringing up anything personal between them. God, it annoyed him so much not being able to open up to him. As kids, they did that just fine and didn't have a problem. But then 1977 rolled around, a time when things between him and Polnareff were seemingly beginning to look up, until a certain money-hungry relative of his tried to kill them all.

Gaelstrom grit his teeth and tensed. Oooh, the satisfaction of beating her face in. Thanks to her, Polnareff will never know what his true intentions were that day; what his father asked of Gaelstrom before leaving for the last time. Hopefully, before the cancer finished him off, he'd tell him that way he'd know just what it was he'd done for him in all that time he was away in Egypt and Italy. He deserved to know the truth, what his father intended for him all along. Gael knew; he always knew. But would Polnareff believe him? Maybe someday, maybe never. Time would tell.