Holden’s reaction to the apparent appearance of the Crab made Izzy’s breath catch as she took another quick look around the room. Still careful to keep her head bent, she focused on the direction he was avoiding, but still saw nothing. She supposed it made sense; after all, he was the one who had been effected by the god.
She looked to Riley when he told Holden to join him. She hesitated a moment, unsure if she should follow to stay close, or remain where she was to avoid potentially running into what she could not see. In the end, she took a couple cautious steps toward the two, but still kept a respectful distance from them.
When they placed their hands in their laps, Izzy awkwardly clasped hers behind her back, her head still slightly bent. Though she remained mostly still, her eyes continued to switch from focusing on Riley and Holden to flitting about the room. That the Crab was there and she could not see it was more than a little unsettling.
She listened as the two talked, the barren walls giving their voices a slight echo.
Her attention settled back on Holden when he jolted straighter. She inhaled as he told his story, pity glittering in her emerald eyes. Now that was something she could not possibly imagine how it had felt to go through.
She bit her lower lip as he broke down, wishing there was something she could do to comfort him, when he began to return to his feet.
No. Not return, but be pulled up by his throat.
She took a startled step back when what could only be the Crab pinned Holden against the wall. She glanced frantically between Riley and Holden, unsure what to do about an aberration she could not see.
Thankfully, Riley had a better grasp on the situation. Whether Riley could actually see it, or was simply guessing at where it was, Izzy could not tell, but as soon as he succeeded in freeing Holden of the Crab, she hurried toward Holden to stand between him and where the now destroyed alter and, presumably, the Crab was.
As Riley moved toward it, Izzy took a defensive stance, ready to do what she could against an invisible opponent.
Her head twitched toward Holden when he called out. She adjusted herself so she could keep him partially in sight, without fully sacrificing a view of a good portion of the room. She relaxed her stance slightly when Holden pleaded with the Crab.
As his words faded, the tension in the room became tangible. Would the Crab accept, or would it attack again? Time seemed to have forgotten how to pass, the trio frozen as if their world had been transformed into a painting. Only the flickering candlelight served as proof that life still went on around them.
Then, at last, the Crab broke the stillness. With a briny, almost electric-scented burst of air, as if the angry sea had at last decided to exhale, the world remembered how to turn. Izzy tensed when the candles sputtered out, leaving them in the pitch black for a short moment before the golden glow of first light filtered in through a grimy window.
Dawn. They had stood there until dawn.
Izzy’s attention snapped to Holden as he began to both cry and laugh. She looked at him curiously, debating on if everything had worked out, or if he had lost his mind.
A smile pulled at Izzy’s lips at Holden’s words. It had worked.
“Well.” She crossed her arms, and stepped toward him. “That’s usually what happens when you weigh more than five pounds.” She looked toward Riley. “Was I the only one who couldn’t see the Heavy Crab?” she asked, a tinge of disappointment in her voice. “Or were you totally just winging it?”

Riley knelt next to the still-sobbing Holden and put a hand on his shoulder, a half-hearted attempt at consolation, as he answered Izzy. "Well, the god was always there, and it never was. That's just how gods are. It was Holden's perspective that changed, taking his weight or bringing it back." He rubbed his head in thought, mussing his slicked hair into something more alike to his usual image. "Weight and burdens, revenge and retaliation, thoughts, feelings, bonds, memories... and what causes them. When something traumatic happens, people's minds seal away the memories. It's the same thing. The god took what was troubling him away."

Riley stood, cracking his neck, as he continued to muse on the subject. "Crabs have a heavy shell, right? Makes them tough and difficult to eat. Protects them from things that would hurt them." He sighed, looking down at Holden. "You didn't do anything wrong. Something bad happening doesn't mean you have to face it. Running away is a valid option, especially given the circumstances. But the only thing that's changed is that you'll accept your burden again. Your mother won't come back. Your family won't recover." Riley spoke such harsh truths in the way that he did, and only he could.

But before Izzy could speak up in protest, Holden swallowed his tears and said, "It does change something." Drying his eyes, red and swollen, he stood up and looked at Izzy. "It wasn't a complete waste. Thank you, Izzy." He stepped forward and took one of her hands in his, holding it gently and tenderly. "I'm very grateful to you. For everything I've said and done, I want to apologize. I'd be very happy if you would be my friend."

Though Riley did not exactly answer her question, what he had to say still held Izzy’s attention. She nodded in understanding as he stood.
“Along with the weight of it… only in a more literal sense.” She returned her arms to her sides and placed her thumbs in the pockets of her jeans.
When Riley finished, Izzy frowned and opened her mouth to object, to say that that first change could be only the beginning, but Holden beat her to it.
She returned Holden’s gaze. “I’m just glad it worked out,” she said as he stepped to her. She looked at him with mild surprise when he took one of her hands.
There was that concept again. The number of friends she kept finding in unexpected places only continued to grow. It would never cease to amaze her.
“You don’t need to apologize. I understand.” She smiled warmly. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then placed her other hand on the back of his. “I mean, what else are friends for, right?”

A bitter wind blew, causing Izzy to clutch her jacket closer as dead leaves scattered about her feet. It was still early in autumn, but it was already chilly in the morning and evenings. If nothing else, the leaves changing colors were pretty to look at. Izzy sat on a bench in one of the few parks in town. This one was different from the one she had met Cerasus near, but was probably about the same age. Something about an "ecological revitalization" project in the nineties, she was sure she had heard her parents talk about at one point. This one had been abandoned too, of course, but at a far more recent date, and so was in generally better repair. White Ash Park, or something like that, was far larger as well, with a hiking trail that Izzy enjoyed. Allegedly it was a grove that had grown in a dried-up lakebed, and a river still ran through it. It was because of the river that Izzy had not been to the park since then, but it was good to be back.

But why today of all days? It was the 24th of September, a Sunday, around nine in the morning. And here she was freezing her butt on a metal bench in an empty park. What Izzy was currently telling herself was that she wanted to get a good hike in before the weather turned too cold again, but that was mostly a lie. She had fought with her brothers this morning, and desperately needed to be out of the house. It was her father's birthday, and they had dragged her out of bed to partake in some inane thing that the two of them had planned. Izzy barely remembered what it was, in her groggy state, but she wanted no part in it, and all three of them had a rather loud and raucous fight. Eventually she had simply had enough, and took off on her bike to wherever she could hide out for the day. And it had led her here.

Izzy was starting to regret the decision. After the initial nostalgia had worn off, being in this park was just making her feel more bitter. Was she already feeling guilty about running out on her father's birthday? Hell no, it was the two demons' faults, stirring up all of that crap she didn't want a part of. Why hadn't she wanted a part of it? She just didn't, okay? Was that not enough anymore. Izzy was getting angry again just thinking about it. She'd make it up to her dad later when she felt like going home, but for now here she sat.

However, Izzy's brooding was broken by an unexpected voice, "Oh, is that Izzy over there?"

Glancing up, she saw Holden, strolling over with his hands in his pockets. He looked almost debonair, with a navy blazer buttoned over a red sweater and cream-colored slacks. Izzy knew how he lived, so she couldn't help but think that his clothes were the nicest things he owned. The furthest fringes of his black hair fluttered slightly in the wind, and his dark eyes narrowed with mischief as he smiled at Izzy.

"I thought at first that the circus was in town, but it's just you." He said, still walking closer.

In the week since his curse had been lifted, he and Izzy had talked a good bit. The gate had opened, so to speak, in the castle walls that he surrounded himself with. What was inside was... interesting, to say the least. The sort of cruel edge to him when he had been defensive and shut out seemed to be an inherent part of his personality, in a way, as he seemed fond of friendly bouts of insults and other forms of intellectual sparring.

"Oh, don't make that face. You know I'm only joking. I'll start to think your sense of humor is lacking."

The first signs of autumn decorated the world around Izzy, the trees in the process of transitioning. Though many leaves flaunted the glorious reds, browns, and oranges of fall, summer still clung to some in a desperate attempt at remaining for as long as it could.
It had been so long since she had dared come here, but Izzy could not fully enjoy the satisfaction of conquering part of her fears. Instead, she trudged through the park, inwardly grumbling to herself, a scowl on her face as she mulled the morning’s events over in her head. She shivered when a cold wind blew by, and removed her hands from the pockets of her usual camouflage-patterned jacket to fully zip it up.
As she headed toward one of the trailheads she thought did not lead around the river—that fear could wait for another day[/i]—she could not help but start to feel like coming here was, perhaps, a mistake. She hesitated and glanced down either side of the sidewalk, debating on if she should return to where she had chained her bike up and find somewhere else, or continue onward.
With a quick, frustrated sigh, she decided on neither. Instead, she sat, hard, in one of the metal benches periodically lining the concrete walk. She placed her elbow on her knee and chin in her hand as the cold of the bench’s metal bars seeped through her pants, mulling over the morning’s events yet again. The more she thought on her fight with her brothers, the angrier she felt.
Her attention snapped over at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Oh, hey,” she said when she saw Holden approaching. “Nah, it’s just a shapeshifter in Izzy’s skin.”
She watched him walking toward her before her face pulled down into a glowering frown at his comment.
She sighed again when he finished, and rolled her eyes, trying to pull herself from her foul mood. “Only for today,” she grumbled. “Besides. You’re dressed in colors better suited for the circus life than me.” She nodded to him with a slight smile. “What’re you doing out here?” She scooted over from the center of the bench so he would have room if he wanted to sit.

Taking her silent invitation, Holden sat down next to Izzy. He shivered just a bit when the cold of the bench hit him, but didn't react beyond that. He breathed deeply, looking around at the autumn colors, perhaps trying to take in the scenery. Really, the difference in his presence and attitude from when Izzy first met him was immense. Like an almost totally different person.

"I'll have you know this a new outfit. I bought it to celebrate my recovery. Even though the root of the issue hasn't improved, the fact that I have the sanity to brood about it is a welcome change of pace." He shook his head, not wanting to continue further on the topic. "Either way, I'm pleased that you got to see my new clothes. I was sort of hoping I'd get to show you, oddly enough."

He exhaled slowly and longingly again, continuing to examine his surroundings. Almost as though he was looking for something. "Me?" He answered Izzy, "I had an errand to run, but I decided to take a detour in this area. I actually used to live around here, but I moved after my sophomore year. This place has really," Izzy mentally finished his sentence as "hasn't changed," but instead Holden continued, "Has changed completely. I barely recognize it." Looking at Izzy, he turned the question back on her, "And you? I recognize your bike over there."

When Holden sat, Izzy angled herself so she slightly faced him. She watched him for a short moment as he took in the portrait of nature around them, before he replied.
“Well,” she began thoughtfully, leaning so her back rested against the bench, her jacket thick enough to stave off the chill of their seat, “I’m honored I get to see them. They look great.”
She cocked her head in curiosity when Holden continued to look around. She blinked in surprise at his comment about the area having changed.
“Really?” Brows raised dubiously, she glanced around again, wondering what he saw in the neighborhood that she did not.
Izzy glanced to him when he returned the question to her. The corners of her mouth twitched down in a scowl. “Getting some air. Away from my demonic brothers.” She heaved a frustrated sigh at the thought. “Need any help with your errand?” she asked hopefully. If this place would not provide the distraction she needed, then maybe Holden’s company would.

"Ah, so you do have a sense of style after all." Holden quipped in response to Izzy's compliment, almost reflexively. He paused for a moment, and added, "Don't read into that too much. I think it's a facet of my childish personality that I bully people that I'm fond of. Kind of like pulling the pigtails of a girl you like when you're very young."

He shrugged, and when Izzy asked if he needed help with his errand, he had another thoughtful pause before saying, "No, you see, I was actually meaning to ask you something along those lines. Let me explain. Since the incident last week, I think I've inadvertently become rather close with both you and Riley. We shared what I would readily describe as a very intimate experience. I think you're the same way, Izzy, but I'm not one for having many friends. In fact before last week, I didn't have any. I don't mind having close friends, but I prefer for those relationships to be equitable. Both you and Riley did me a great service, and while Riley extracted recompense in money, I feel as though I still owe you something."

Holden stopped again, letting what he had said thus far sink in, before continuing. "I'm not trying to weasel out of a debt, I just feel that not paying a return to you would put us on unequal footing as friends, and hinder our relationship." He looked at Izzy quite seriously, but she wasn't yet at a level of reading him like she was with Trevor or Riley. It was hard to discern if he had ulterior motives. "I'm being quite serious. In the spirit of solidarity, I'll do any one thing that you ask. Just the one, but it can be anything. World domination, eternal life, or to defeat the Saiyans on their way to Earth." He said the last part in his same, deadpan tone, so it took Izzy a moment to realize it was a joke. "I could speak with a southern accent for a month, wear a dress to school for the remainder of the semester, or mow your lawn for you shirtless. Ah, I see how your eyes changed with that last one. Pervert." Again, completely serious in tone, but he continued to joke around. Izzy wasn't sure if she'd ever get used to that.

“Better than yours.” She cast him a mischievous smile. She shrugged as Holden continued. “Aww, does someone have a secret crush?”
She sighed when Holden answered her offer of help with a ‘No,’ but he gained her full attention as he continued.
“Uh, okay?” she drawled at his request to explain himself. She eyed him uncertainly, interrupting his comment about having friends with a chortle through her nose. “Join the club.”
When he paused, Izzy blinked at him in surprise. “You… what?”
She stared at him, trying to get some sort of read on his expression and tone as he continued, wondering where he was going with this. Her brows rose when he began his list of possible requests. It was almost scary how he could joke with such a straight face, blending humor with the humorless.
“What?” Her eyes widened slightly at his ‘pervert’ joke. “No, it…” She exhaled and glared at him with exaggerated irritation when she realized he was messing with her. She elbowed his lightly. “You’re a jerk, you know that?” But she could not prevent her lips from pulling upward.
“You really don’t owe me anything, Holden.” She shifted on the bench to fully face him. “I didn't help you to get something out of it. I did it because you needed help. There's nothing like the satisfaction of saving a five-pound damsel in distress.” She smirked, then eyed him for a short moment, again searching his features for any hint of his thoughts, only to find none. “But… tell you what. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll think on it. I mean, this kind of power over someone isn’t exactly something to be taken lightly.” She tried, but failed at keeping a straight face of her own. “Mowing my lawn shirtless. That’s some pretty heavy control, there!”

Holden nodded, almost solemnly, as he responded to Izzy, "Yes, I'm aware of the dangers implied in giving you so much power over me. I know you're the lonely type who's never had a boyfriend, and will probably never get married, so having this level of control over a man should be a unique experience for you. Savor it."

Surely reeling from the most recent exchange of insults, a wayward glance away from Holden had Izzy's eye caught by something just at the perimeter of her notice. Near the edge of the park, where the trail met the street, there seemed to be a boy standing there. Grade-school age, maybe nine or ten, with a short buzzcut and a rather overstuffed backpack. The size of the bag was such that if you knocked him onto his back he probably would be stuck, like a turtle. Izzy couldn't see much beyond that, given that the boy was facing a metal sign that was posted at the entrance to the trail. The sign was kind of worn, but it was an approximate map of the residences and streets in the area around the park at the time of the park's construction. He was evidently comparing it to a sheet of paper he was carrying, which either had an address or a hand-drawn map on it. Either way, he didn't seem to be making much progress with his attempts at navigation.

Izzy could just make out a nametag hanging from his bag after he turned a certain way. Scrawled in marker with thick letters and childish handwriting was the name "MICHEAL," but the rest of it was illegible. Evidently his name was too long for the nametag, and he had been forced to cram the rest of the letters into an overly small space, and so the most she could make out was "HEND-." Maybe Holden could make out more of it?

Izzy glowered at Holden for a moment, then glanced aside with an irritated snort. She did a double take when movement down the path just caught her attention. She turned slightly on the bench to get a better look, more than happy to put a pause on her and Holden's banter.
She watched the boy at the head of the trail for a moment, surprised he was still standing with how stuffed his backpack looked. She glanced to the poorly-written name tag, trying to no avail to make out the child’s full name. Her gaze shifted behind him, looking for his parents, but she did not see any adults around. Though not unusual to find gradeschoolers mulling about on a weekend, something about him being alone with a backpack packed to bursting and a map in hand did not quite settle well. Maybe he was lost. Or a runaway.
“Huh.” Izzy glanced to Holden, and nodded toward the boy. “What do you make of that?” she asked, then returned her gaze to the boy. “Don’t suppose you can make out his name, can you? I can’t read anything past ‘Michael.’”

"Huh?" Holden said at first, turning his gaze to face the direction Izzy was indicating. He squinted for a moment, and made a confused face, but then turned to Izzy and said. "Uh, I don't see it."

It dawned on Izzy then that she was at that moment marginally more vampiric than normal. Just the previous night she had gone out to feed Damien, who seemed particularly ravenous. Her late-night outing was most of the reason that she had been tired and irritable enough to fight with her brothers the following morning. In any case, it was most probable that she could only even see the name tag because of her strengthened vampiric vision. Maybe she just had to go over and help the poor kid out.

“You don’t…” Izzy returned Holden’s confusion with her own. She sighed when it dawned on her that her sight would be a bit better than common human standards at the moment. “Oh. Right. Never mind.” She looked back to the boy. “I’ll be back. Going to make sure everything’s okay.”
She stood and walked toward the head of the concrete trail, her rear glad to be free of the chilled bench. With her hands in her pockets to keep them hidden from autumn’s chill, she glanced beyond the child, again searching for any sign of parents coming a bit late as she neared.
“Hello,” she greeted a bit uncertainly as she stopped near him. She glanced between his piece of paper and the neighborhood’s directory. “Are you lost…” she leaned to the side, making a show of looking at the name tag on his backpack so he would know how she knew his name, “Michael?”

As Izzy announced she was briefly leaving, Holden's brow furrowed somewhat pensively, and he crossed his legs in a contemplative pose. He said only, "You'll only end up hurt," as Izzy went on her merry way.

The boy, Micheal, did not so much turn to look at Izzy before she spoke, so engrossed was he in his note. Eventually when she did speak to him, he took perhaps a deliberate second before acknowledging her. He looked up at her, and Izzy got her first decent look at him. He had the typical sort of round, childish face one expected from a boy his age, freckles, a bandaid on his chin, and big, watery eyes that were a sort of burgundy color. He looked at her quite sternly, a gaze she hadn't been expecting from a child. It seemed at once both judgemental and pitying, but she could have been imagining it. Though the intensity of his stare was broken somewhat by a sniffle, probably from the cold.

"Go away." He said finally. "I hate you." Micheal promptly turned back to his note.

When the boy at last looked at her, Izzy gave him a friendly smile as she looked him over, the expression faltering slightly when her gaze meet his.
She blinked in surprise at his reaction to her. Her lips pursed in frustration for a moment, before she replaced it with a neutral expression. She was a stranger to him, and most kids were taught to be wary of strangers. Perhaps that was his way of trying to make someone he did not know back off.
Not one to be deterred by such a statement, especially one she and her brothers shared among themselves often enough, she bent and placed her hands on her knees so she was closer to eye-level with him.
“Fine by me.” She shrugged. “But you look like you need help.” She tilted her head, trying to get a better look at what was written on Michael’s paper. “Are you trying to find your way home? My friend,” she nodded backward to indicate Holden, “and I know this place fairly well. We could help you. Or I could call a police officer, if you'd like that better.”

As Izzy responded to him, even crouching to be at his level, he returned her sentiments with another loaded look, this time delivered dead at eye level. Like the one before, it was still unbelievably condescending. Izzy had not known previously that a child was capable of both that level of contempt and the ability to clearly express it nonverbally. For all intent and purposes, if he had asked her if she was an idiot out loud, it wouldn't have gotten his point across any more clearly. That said, he did not actually say anything to her, and returned to his note after staring at her for a moment.

Holden was apparently getting quite the show. "Not sure what you're trying to accomplish," he said, just loud enough for Izzy to hear, as he continued to rest cross-legged on the bench.

When the child only gave her his silent, condescending glare, his burgundy gaze made that much more intense being eye-to-eye, she inhaled. When he again turned from her, she let out a frustrated snort, and straightened.
She cast a dark glare over her shoulder at Holden’s comment. I’m trying to see if there’s something wrong, here, she answered him silently, before turning her attention back to the boy, frowning.
“Fine then.” She crossed her arms, and glanced to the piece of paper she had not been capable of getting a decent look at.
As swiftly as she could, she snatched at the piece of paper he held to pull it from his hands, hoping that if it did not give her insight to what Michael was doing there, she could at least use it as leverage to find out.

The child's note was... not quite as illuminating as Izzy had hoped. About as she expected, it was equal parts map and address, but both were inscribed in marker and crayon, worked together into a frankly illegible, jumbled mess. It seemed that Micheal's handiwork on his nametag was on one of his better days. The page had even been illuminated with doodles of various animals and cartoonish faces, which were the most recognizable symbols on the note.

Micheal didn't take kindly to Izzy's forwardness, however, and his protests were generally keeping her from examining the page as closely as she would have liked. "Ah! I need that! Thief! Criminal! Give it back! You'll rue the day!" He shouted at her as he jumped and tried to grab it back. Izzy wasn't especially tall, and so while she was still able to keep it out of his reach, she had to keep angling and moving it to avoid him snatching it back out of her hands.

Izzy frowned at the note. When he began his protests, she quickly bent it loosely in half, and held it as high up as her reach allowed.
She raised her brows, wondering if he knew what “you’ll rue the day” even meant. Bending back slightly, she sidestepping to prevent him from retrieving his note.
“Since I have your attention,” she began. She never stopped moving, “are you lost? A runaway? Are you in some sort of trouble… besides me taking your paper. If you tell me where you’re trying to go, I can help you get there. Or find someone else to help.”

Micheal's brow furrowed in frustration, "Of course I'm lost, I'm a lost little calf." A strange expression, but probably one he picked up off of one of his parents. "Now give me back my note, so you can get lost. I don't need you bothering me, you, you..." He struggled to think of what to call Izzy, as she hadn't said her name yet, "Smelly woman!"