Bridgette and Nadia perched on an old sofa in Nadia's attic. The two girl's heads were pressed together as they looked through an old photo album. The attic was floor to ceiling with stuff. Just stuff everywhere. Even the sofa they were sitting on had stuff they too were sitting on. Or stuff that had fallen into their laps from precarious piles. Nadia's family were hoarders. They had moved to Europe from Egypt almost two generations ago and had piled everything they didn't need in the attic and left it. Nadia had discovered years ago that her parent didn't care that she went through the old stuff, as long as she didn't ruin anything. Bridgette had soon joined her friend in rustling through the old belongings.

Bridgette didn't care much for history. But she didn't have the best home life. Her mother wasn't really in the picture. Her father was always off on 'business trips', a.k.a. he was doing his secretary, and it left her alone with her elder brothers. There were two of them, twins and both disliked Bridgette. It was almost a given because they were both ten years older than her, and half siblings to boot. So, as soon as she could she spent as much time away as possible. Not that anyone noticed.

"And this one." Nadia pointed at a man with a ridiculous triangle goatee and pencil mustache. The two girls erupted into peals of laughter. Nadia's threw back her head, her dark brown hair cascading down her back, a lovely contrast to her light mocha colored skin. Nadia was a direct contrast to Bridgette who had red hair, the mass of freckles and pale skin.

"He looks like a creeper." Bridgette said still laughing. The twenty year old pretended to stroke her own mustache which set Nadia off again. Finally the two girls wound down out of laughter. Nadia shut the album and looked around. By this time they had explored almost everything. However the two were not to be deterred. Nadia checked her watch really quick, her black eyes watching the dial.

"We still have a few minutes before dinner." The other girl pointed out. Even since Bridgette started spending more time at Nadia's her parents had taken to feeding her and to letting her stay the night as often as she wanted. It was like a real family, almost.

Bridgette tapped her lips and looked thoughtful. "There." She finally pointed to a section they hadn't explored. And soon the two girls descended upon it. Boxes were opened, papers ruffled through, more photos were uncovered. Bridgette seized a lovely piece of jewelry, completely fake, that she passed off to Nadia who now wore it around her neck. Then, a black box appeared. It was old and scuffed. Bridgette reached for it only to be thwarted by Nadia who cried: "Dibs" and snatched it off the ground. Both girls held their breath as Nadia opened the box. Images of jewels and valuables danced through their mind.

"Dang." Nadia said as she peered into the box. Bridgette craned her neck to see what it was.

"A rock?" Bridgette asked in disbelief.

"An ugly rock." Nadia specified. And indeed it was. It was rough and obviously a common stone that someone had just picked off the ground. Nadia huffed. "Not gold."

"Or gems." Bridgette agreed.

"Or money." Nadia supplied with a smirk.

"Or steamy love letters." Bridgette wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Bridge!" Nadia shoved her friend with a faked look of horror. "How could you?" Nadia cried in a voice she tried to make condemning, but ended up laughing instead.

"You know you thought it too." Bridgette asserted over the sound of laughter. She folded her arms and tried to look offended, but failed by smiling instead. "Dinner?" She finally asked once her friend stopped to breathe.

"Sure. In a second." Nadia turned her attention back to the box. "Maybe there's hidden treasure." Her voice dropped to low and husky.

"Well, I'm hungry." Bridgette said as she stood and made her way carefully to the exit in the floor. She was almost there when Nadia made a noise.

"Ah." Nadia sighed in pleasure. Bridgette turned around at the oddity of it all. When she looked upon Nadia again, she noticed right off that something was wrong. Sure it still looked like Nadia, but there was something so wrong.

"Nadia?" Bridgette asked quietly, as if afraid to spoke her friend.

"No." Nadia said with a rapturous smile. "I'm afraid Nadia's not here anymore." Nadia stood up with a little difficulty, as stiff from kneeling on the floor for so long.

"That isn't funny." Bridgette said. She tried to back up but ended up sprawling on the floor when her foot impeded on some object behind her.

Dante watched the train leave the station with mixed feelings of concern and determination. Concern that the guards would recognize him, that there had been some sort of capture order issued and he'd be stopped when he tried to leave - but that hadn't happened until now, and it was unlikely that it would at this stage. Determination because he had set himself a task to do, and he was going to carry it out.

A guard approaching derailed his thoughts, and he grabbed his suitcase and quickly walked past, towards the station's exit. Nobody stopped him, and he found himself smiling widely as he took a deep breath, stretching his arms. Despite his status as a vagrant, he looked pretty respectable - a leather trench coat, closed, and trousers as black as the leather, finished with worn, thick military boots. Perhaps if he'd been more bulky he would've looked intimidating, but he was slightly smaller than your average guy. It wasn't bad when he wanted to go unnoticed, yes, but he would've preferred to be taller all the same.

The setting sun tickled his face with its last few beams, warming him up just slightly and painting a half smile on his usually serious face. He stood still for a few seconds, just enjoying his freedom, before returning to reality. First things first, he thought passing a hand through his short hair, almost as black as his clothes. Finding a place to sleep in was secondary to finding the address he'd read in the lab's documents - he wouldn't die if he had to sleep out on the street once, but he was definitely curious to know what had made that particular house important.

So he stopped and asked the first young passerby he found. As he'd hoped, the guy was friendly enough to pull out his cellphone and look up where the street was found, and then sent him on his way - it was pretty far from here and he'd have to take the public transport, but it wasn't like he was in any rush so with a smile and a wave he set off in the direction he was pointed towards. He didn't notice the man getting walked through by another citizen before walking through a wall himself.

On the way, he couldn't help look at everything and anything, drinking in the sights - the tall buildings, the parks, the cars and the streets, everything was still so new to him that he approached it all with caution. The bus stop was full of people waiting as he was, and he quickly noticed that he would have to pay when he got on the bus.

He did so successfully after waiting for what felt for an eternity, and after walking for another while finally arrived at the marked address. It looked very normal, surprisingly normal even. Not really deserving of any kind of surveillance, at least. Unsatisfied, he opened his backpack, pulling out an army knife. He looked at the weapon hesitantly for a few seconds, then finally unsheathed it and pressed the blade to the palm of his hand, closing his eyes and slicing through the skin in a quick motion that somehow drew no blood as he muttered under his breath. When he opened his eyes again, their usual black irises were replaced by ferocious, bloodshot red ones. The wind howled around him, currents of magic ebbing and flowing in a neverending chaos, a cacophony of color that mesmerized at times and terrified at others - but in this case, it only disappointed. There still was nothing unusual about the house.

With a sigh, he put the clean knife back and sat down near the house. A disappointing start for his first task. He considered leaving, but until the spell wore off it was hard to tell which of the multiple "floors" he was seeing was the real one, so he just closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, hugging one knee.

A crashing sound echoed and made him open his eyes again with a start, staring at the house. Something was happening, the currents were distorting. He just watched, mesmerized. This could be just what he had come for.

Bridgette's bottom hit the ground hard, but that didn't stop her. She scurried backwards as her friend approached. Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong. A completely ration part of her mind whirred about trying to figure out what was happening. She knew subconsciously that magic had to be involved. There really wasn't another explanation. Magic was openly practiced in Europe. In fact those who could do magic were respected by those that couldn't. Technology and magic were two different sides of the same coin. Everyone used items that used magic or electricity, it was so common no one really thought about it.

The majority of people couldn't do magic. And the majority of those people had never seen magic done, for most of the art was far too subtle for most to even realize it had been done. Needless to say poor Bridgette wasn't really getting what was happening to her. Even when Nadia raised her hand and dropped it, the knowledge of the action far escaped the redhead's comprehension.

The pain did not however. Bridgette opened her mouth to scream, but the sound got stuck in her throat as every fiber in her body cried out in pain. She grasped at her chest which was now bleeding. The red blood flowed freely down her torso and onto the hard wood floor. Her hands scrabbled in vain to try and stop the bleeding. All the while Nadia smiled over her, her hand raising again.

Bridgette closed her eyes tightly at the sight. She was going to die. It was over. Her life was finished before her twenty-first birthday. Then something made a loud noise. Bridgette tried to open her eyes but they were so heavy. And she was so tired. Another sound threatened to wake her. But it was far off and none of her concern anymore. Everything was fuzzy around the edges and she didn't want to do this anymore.

---

What had been Nadia raised his, no, her hand to finish the girl before him. As he, she, dropped her hand his power fleed. Wisps of it dropped away like water down a crevice. He gasped and staggered as her magic failed. Had he pushed himself too much too fast? There would be time enough later for that. Everything around him was foreign, Even his womanly body. He forced her legs up to support him as shouting came from down stairs. He lips curled back into a snarl. It was time for a strategic retreat.

The Warlock allowed the girl's legs to lay him on the ground and he closed his eyes, as if she too had been attacked. When a door opened somewhere near, he heard a small cry from a woman. He had to force himself not to smile. Voices in a familiar tone chatted nervously about how to save the red haired girl, the only witness to what had happened. Could he trust them? Doubtful. So she kept her eyes shut, biding time until he could escape. Within minutes the man took away the girl apparently named Bridgette to run her off to the hospital.

The woman, who was the girl's body's mother, remained. As she cried it was easy enough to grab a cylindrical object and his the woman over the head. His eyes opened and he smiled at the prone woman. He reached over to steal her life force, her hand closing in on her heart, Then, another sound. He Warlock hissed, a reptilian sound. He gathered his frail feminine body and crawled through the hatch in the floor and into the main part of the house.

Dante's eyes didn't stray from the house, swirling magic flowing through it in disturbing, unnatural patterns that swirled ever quicker in a crescendo of chaos that culminated in a sudden, eerie stillness - accompanied by a very real and very loud sound.

He only realized he was holding his breath when he felt his lungs start burning up and, with a heavy sigh, returned to his watch. He stopped for a moment, thinking about barging into the house knocking the door down, but the idea was quickly ruled out - what if nothing visible had happened? Or worse, what if that was intentional magic?

He couldn't take the risk, but he couldn't just sit still and wait, so he stood back up, slightly out of balance thanks to the magic vision, but that didn't stop him from pacing back and forth - at least now the threads of magic were standing still enough that he could tell the floor if he went slowly enough.

He glanced nervously at the house every few seconds and, soon enough, his patience was rewarded in the form of a middle aged man protectively carrying a red-haired girl - or perhaps she had fire magic? - in a hurry, even though the effort was making him pant and turning his cheeks red. Dante saw a chance, and he took it.

"Sir! Is she alright, do you need help?" He called out, in his best "model citizen" voice. The man quickly explained - he didn't know what had happened, but the girl wasn't fine and yes, he needed help to take her to the closest hospital.

Dante wasn't too stable on his feet, but having someone to follow along and having someone whose health depended on him all added up to make him put his best effort to get her to hospital. Or at least that was what he was telling himself, though he had to admit that if she didn't know what had happened with the magic earlier he'd be greatly disappointed.

When they finally got to the hospital, fortunately located close by, it was a matter of minutes before the girl was settled in bed, plugged to all the right machines, and injected with all the right chemicals. Dante was allowed to remain with the man on expressing his concern about the girl. The frowning faces from the doctors told him what they didn't want to say - the redhead wasn't doing well at all and, judging by their hushed discussions, they weren't too sure of what to do about it.

He stood next to the girl's bed with the man for a rather long time until her caretaker was called out by the doctors to talk about the girl's health - while waiting, the magic vision spell had faded, finally letting Dante see the world as usual. And now, with both the man and the medical crew away, it was the time to decide whether to use his magic to heal her or not. He didn't need to think for long, even despite the consequences his intervention would have.

He grabbed his pack from the corner he'd left it in, snatched his carbon fiber knife and poked the girl's shoulder lightly, barely nicking her. Then, he turned the blade on his own hand just as before, slicing through his other palm in a clean, bloodless cut.

With the ritual wounds made, he hid the knife again and sat down, muttering under his breath. A minute later, the incantation was complete. If he'd still had the arcane eyes, he would've been able to see the flow of magic, but even without them he knew that the girl's body was being filled with strength from other nearby living creatures, including himself. The spell was terribly inefficient, and most of the energy was lost in the transfer, but after a few minutes he considered she probably had gathered enough to wake up and severed the spell's connection with another harsh, foreign word.

Under normal circumstances, this life-stealing spell wouldn't have been dangerous since people went around with lifeforce to spare - they'd feel ill, apathetic, or even depressed, but not die. In a hospital, however, where people fought for their lives, it was certain that several other patients had died to accelerate the girl's recovery.

Dante shrugged those thoughts away - someone else might've tried to justify their actions, but the necromancer was honest enough with himself to admit that he'd just done it out of interest to talk with the girl. Sure, there were excuses available such as the fact that if they were weak enough to die from that they were going to die anyways, or that the girl had much more to live for - but in the end, he'd done it because he wanted to know what was on the girl's mind.

[[I'll forgot what happened back at the house for the moment and this one is nice and short. :( ]]

Bridgette was still sluggish to awaking, even with the extra help. But wakefulness did come, even if it was slow. Her eyes fluttered and the girl stirred in the hospital bed. The first thing she was aware of noticing was that she wasn't at home and she wasn't as Nadia's. Through half open eyes her drugged mind wondered where she was. The events from just a few hours earlier unrecalled. The white wasn't bright, most people who awoke had troubles adjusting to the light but not Bridgette. She laid there a few moments more, half conscious before the past slammed into her.

Bridgette remembered Nadia and the blood. So much blood. And the eyes, there was something wrong with her eyes. Bridgette moans and thrashed, and to be honest, she probably screamed too. Luck, if one could see it like that. probably kept anyone from bursting into the room. For the entire wing of the hospital was in an uproar. Several emergencies had been declared as people started dying. The staff scrambled around as best as they could to save whomever they could. Not that a lot of the sicker patients had a chance. Even the floors above and below were affected.

This of course meant that sooner or later someone would realize what had happened and come looking for the source. By that time however the crisis would be over and Dante would have had enough time to get away cleanly. And as of the moment no one was giving the small room any attention for her vitals were strong while others were still dropping.

[[No worries! It's not like there's much to write when your char's knocked out.]]

The ensuing chaos in the hospital shouldn't have surprised him but, nonetheless, Dante sighed with a frown. He hadn't expected to cause this much chaos. His attention turned back to Bridgette when she started moving, however, and he watched the girl thrash around for a couple of seconds before grabbing her shoulders and holding her still as best he could - though he quickly moved a hand to her mouth to cover it when she started screaming.

"Quiet!" He whispered. "Just what on earth happened in that house, to leave you like this?" He asked, then bit his lip, looking warily at the door. "Look, there's something wrong with your house. There was some powerful magic going on in there." He paused for a moment, thinking. What on earth had he expected her to do, just wake up and spill everything? "I don't know what it was but I think it's important and I want to know what it was. I can't stay, though, I did something I shouldn't have to heal you." He sighed, then continued talking, no longer as quickly, but rather hesitantly. "If... If you'll let me... I can mark you. And then I'll be able to find you. Uh, for a while, not permanently." He stretched out his already sliced hand. "I won't force you to accept, you can just go back to your daily life and pretend you didn't see me."

If she took his hand, he'd mutter a short incantation - her hand would then have a small mark where it met Dante's, almost as if his wound had left a trail of blood on her skin; a mark that would disappear in a few seconds. If, on the other hand, she didn't, he'd withdraw it with an apologetic grin and clear disappointment. In either case, if he wasn't stopped Dante would then leave the room quickly, blending into the chaos outside and out to the street.