Into the Night

Court in session

Caution fell on the monster stumbling to the murderer on the center table. Ash tensed and made a move to aide him, but the sharp look he gave him, deterred the effort. He stepped back with the witch and the goddess, watching for the direction he would take it. Would he continue to withhold the sordid details or unmask the criminal's behind them?

Either way he stood ready to accept the result. He'd accept that in his other lover's stead, what he wished he would have had the courage to do oh so many years ago. Blood drained from his face and a pit grew in his stomach as awaited the second hearing.

Sella's walk appeared devoid of energy, lifeless to everyone but the immortal witnessing a flickering light peeking from behind his aura. A white light beckoned from the ink blue color she had grown accustomed to in those few short days. It started with a spark and became a small flame that ate away at the old aura like fuel, leaving less and less of the old him behind.

The smell of ozone, of rain hitting dirt, permeated the air. Static snapped across their feet and up their legs as lightning built up. The lights in the room flickered the same was as the electricity that was finding its way to the fragile transforming monster. He turned round to the creature snoozing on the table as the sound of the wind beating on the windows met their ears.

The witch and the werewolf assumed a storm was coming. In a way, they were correct. However the immortal took an instinctive step back, so she could witness the creature her nephew only described to her.

Sella operated on a preternatural power unknown to him, pulling the strings of his heart and mind. To him, he had to do it. It remained necessary in order to stop a schism from taking root among their ragtag group. The conflict between the two would stymie their effort to reverse what they could. Trauma would remain, but at least the people would be alive. Oh well, he had the rest of his life to deal with it. However long that meant for a creature like him.

They had to address the monster in the room instead of letting it grow out of control. Even if it meant reliving the events he was still trying to put behind him. Doing so would mitigate the damage. At the very least one of the living wronged individuals could see the face of the monsters that took her brother's lives.

He'd bite the bullet to stop the witch from pulling the trigger.

He stood in front of the group surrounding him in a crescent formation at the altar of the sin he and Charlotte were dragged into. His righteousness faltered at the sight of him, at how painfully normal he appeared under the soft recess lighting.

The more he looked at him, the more he saw the resemblance. His werewolf lover surely had a type. They could have been blood brothers, if their relationship wasn't already dripping with blood. That resemblance couldn't draw sympathy from him. It could only disturb the self-elected orator. Without a wasted second he turned his back on him and faced his audience.

They interpreted his action differently, each member in the audience.

The precocious witch she saw an uncomfortable speaker approaching a hard topic. Turning around was a simple flare to get their attention, nothing more, nothingless.

The lawless shapeshifter saw it as protective stance, almost a primal urge to separate the other mate from the others. Marking him as his own bonded the three of them. If a romantic attraction didn't exist, an instinctive protection established itself. It gave him the comfort to allow his mate to stand so close to his defenseless other.

The immortal didn't pay attention to that detail. She was too busy seeing what the naive watchers couldn't. Years of living made noticing the tiniest details such as spiritual energy possible. Which in itself is humorous. Any child can see it, but grows to ignore and forget it. It takes living a ridiculously long lifetime, to stop ignoring and forgetting.