Oh, Greased Lightning! {Seaheart}

[Seaheart]

He looked at her for a moment, not minding the questions. He really didn't. Once someone found out, they pressed for more. But he really didn't mind Dementia asking him then. "The thing is...I don't know hwo it has to be. But I doubt it always has to be a Guado. It's like....a cycle. Once the more who needs to be killed...is killed, that's it. W'ere done. But...it's not. Maybe for a set number of years...only the Guado know the whole story. So they choose a baby, crown him as the one, send him to earth, he looks, searches, grows, protects the one, the savior kills the Lone Wolf-the one who will destroy the world- and that's it. The guardian is done. It could be....it could be you. It could be anyone, but isnce I don't know how I'll know, I'll just have to trust my gut...I think I;ll know." As he kissed her on the cheek, she whispered the words.

He looked at her thoughtfully and said "Not for a second. We.....fought the day I met her. Not arguing, but she wanted a good fight. I beat her...and between the first punch or whatever happened, I could sense it wasn't her, nor did I think I could love her, or that she loved me. It's....a sad love story. Not your usual Romeo and Juliet." He said with a bit of a laugh. He gave her a kiss on the neck and went on "So, is that all you need to do? Or ask?" He said with a bit of a smile, as if now he was a little impatient with her questions, but it was in all good fun.

[Deon]

Dementia's brow furrowed slightly in sad thought. "No. I could never be the savior," she murmured. "I wouldn't have the capabilities, the mindset... the will."

She still managed a chuckle at his only question of her between her virtual interrogation despite the melancholy mood that had fallen over her for the moment. "No. I don't think I'll ever be finished. It's just so foreign to me. I mean..." she let out a little sigh. "So this savior really exists? And the Lone Wolf... how does he try to destroy the world, and...?" She stopped herself in mid-sentence. "You're appealing too much to my inner thoughts, conflicts... It's hard to stop when it's possible that you can help answer the contradictions that have been hurting me for so long." She could feel the warmth of his lips on the flesh of her neck. "The world..." she started her sentence, then trailed off as if she was reconsidering her words. She took a breath and changed the subject.

"What happens if you don't find the savior? What happens if you can't protect him, and the Lone Wolf succeeds? What happens if the savior doesn't even know he's the savior?"

[Seaheart]

He smiled at her last question. "The savior doesn't knows he or she's the savior. Cliche isn't it? And the Lone Wolf has no idea either. Dear, we all have doubts in our mind that sha;; constantly be unsettled. But the few who have the contradictions that matter the most, are the ones who shall have no doubts. That is called ultimate knowledge. People like us, who know death and life are seperated only by the breaths we take every second." He said porving his point by letting warm breath wash over his ear.

"Now my dear, just like they are people like me searching for the one who will save the world, their are others lookign for the Lone Wolf, the one who will kill it. It is balance. And it has been countless centuries that we've found the one hasn't it? The Guado tribe shall fulfill it's part with it's...ambassador." He said referring sadly to himself. "I am a puppet of a Guado community, but I want to defy that. They want me to sepnd my life looking for the one hwo wshall save this world every day....and I did that once. But I want to become stronger, looking for purpose to my life other than searchign for something I already know. I want to uncover secrets behind Chaos, behind death...to become stronger. I just want answers to the questions than haunt only me." He said squeezing the bed, letting out information off his scar-ridden chest.

[Deon]

"When there's so many contradictions, enough so that you can't even believe anything, there's nothing to doubt, is there?" she asked with a hopeless sigh. She could feel his breath, warm with life, with vigor, with sureness. She bit her lip and waited for him to finish, thinking.

"Still though. No matter how strong you become and how many secrets you uncover, you can't escape from the end that everyone will always face. It's equal for all, even the lowest imbecile who leeches off other people to survive. And yet I still want answers. Maybe the answers can help me find a way to outsmart that force. But how am I supposed to ever know?" Her voice sounded like a quiet cry of desperation. She pressed her head tighter to his body, listening to the reassuring beating of his heart, spreading her hand across his chest.

"I'm sorry. I can see that I've bothered you. I'm not going to question you any more, but you are free to ask anything of me, if it pleases you to do so."

[Seaheart]

He listened to her, and didn't feel uncomfortable in the least. "Dear....You haven't bothered me. We must live with doubt, to gnaw at us. If not, we won't want to push it away, and when it is like true love, sureness washing through you with every fiber, then that is the end. You have discovered everything, and you know. It is a long journey of knowledge but people like us are strong. We must learn to grow stronger, and with knowledge of death like ours, my powers of darkness, your power of cells, there are ways to be immortal. With enough strength, and immortality, then we can live eternally, discovering all, living in peace."

He said this with certainty, letting her know it wouldn't just be some dream never to come true. He lt each word come out in hot breath, streaming through her ear and neck. "So my dear, I have one question. where doees your dmenita ocme from?"

[Deon]

Dementia gripped onto his shirt tightly, as if it would offer her some comfort in her uncertainty. He seemed so sure of his words, without the doubt that gnawed at her he spoke of.

"Eternal life. I'll take that as a promise. You and I are going to find it."

She breathed deeply through her nose as she felt his breath, as if some of that certainty of his words could be transferred to her in that way. It steadied her to answer his question. She looked at him with glazed-over eyes that were unseeing of what was in front of her, but rather were reliving the past.

"My dementia?" she shook her head with a weak laugh. "It's a long story. One that I don't like to relive, one that I never had to before. Still, I'm going to tell you. I want to tell you. I want for you to be able to know something about me that no one ever has before, because I feel as if it would bring you closer to me.

"Oh, poor Sophie Devereux had no idea what was in for her when her father sent her to Poland to live with her grandmother. Oh, that damn woman made my life a living hell. She convinced me as surely as she believed herself that I was possessed by the devil's demonic force. I thought that I was evil, that I endangered everything else, that I tainted and cursed everything I touched. She had a way of getting into your head that way.

"She whipped me every Sunday morning, at the sound of the church bells. God, I remember it so clearly. She would yell incantations at me in Polish, she would scream bible verses, all the while inflicting as much pain as she could on me to try to drive the devil out. I remember pleading with her... pleading for her to stop, and she would only do it harder." Dementia's voice started to shake as she spoke, and her eyes glistened with angry tears that refused to drip down her face. "Even with my healing, it still left scars. They're all over my back, like ropes sticking out of my skin." She took Seaheart's hand and placed it underneath her shirt, on her spine, so he could feel for himself.

"And every month, under the full moon, she would perform some kind of sick occult ritual. First she made me wear this white dress of 'purity.' Then she would bind me to a cross, like Jesus, she said. She would slit all the way down my forearm with a knife in the same exact place, over and over again, whenever it healed up, letting the blood drip into a vessel that collected it. When I had bled about two liters and was barely capable of even thinking, she took me down and forced me to kill a lamb as sacrifice, to slit its neck and put its blood into the collection. Somehow I always managed to comply. It was horrible. I always got its blood all over me, all over that pure white dress. She took that as a sign of evil, that it bled on me and ruined its purity. As if anyone could stop it from bleeding on oneself after its neck was slit and that person was the one who slit it. After that she sprinkled holy water on the mixture, poured in what she called the blessed wine and bread that was supposed to turn into the blood and flesh of Jesus, then boiled the thing and put incense into the fire, all while shouting these incantations and prayers and god knows what else. Then she forced me to drink it. The entire thing. It tasted horrible. It burned my tongue and throat. I always vomited afterwards. She took that as another sign that the devil rejected the holy purified blood.

"When her rituals didn't work, she started getting innovative. Once she tried to seal the devil into a teapot by luring it out of my body through blood. Another time she tried to drown me in holy water. After that she just began to try to kill me whenever she could. She even made a voodoo doll of me and started stabbing it here, here, and here." She pointed to places on her abdomen. "I've still got the scars. I don't know how it worked. God, I tried to commit suicide so many times. I threw myself off of our balcony, I slit my throat, my wrists..." as she talked, she pointed to faded scars. "But the worst of all--" her voice caught in her throat as the tears finally started spilling out. She couldn't bring herself to tell the story. She buried her head in Seaheart's chest, sobbing.

[Seaheart]

He listened to the story. It didn't really phase him. He had heard Ven's story, and it was probaly worse. Still this came pretty close. It seemed she got in monthly for awhile. Still, she had it better than Seaheart or Ven did, she could heal. They didn't have that privelige. They would be left with countless scars of their parents doing, and scars of their own doing. Still, sad as it got, it didn't really surprise him. Evil grandmohter, crazy rituals, random killings, and failing suicide. More or less, all heard before. He almost pitied her, trying to soothe her by running nice claws through her back as if they'd take the scars away.

Then she cried. It wasn't that crying bothered him...well, a little but it wasn't something you should do. He picked her head up from her chest, making his face stern. "Don't cry. Crying doesn't help. All you're gonna be left with is a red and wet face, the same problems, and your same gruesome past. So please, stop crying and finish the story or you'll never finish it in your life. The past is something all must confront. Even ones with knowledge like us." He said in a soothing, but ultimately, scary serious voice to let her know she must finish the story and stop crying.

[Deon]

Dementia sniffed. "I'm sorry. You're right. Please forgive me. I--I'm not usually like this." She wiped her reddened eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath.

"It's just that, I damn wanted her to do it. I wanted to be tortured, I wanted to be hurt, because I thought that I was the most evil thing in existence. You know a lot, you've been through a lot, probably more than I have, but I don't think you don't know what it feels like to loathe your very core, to feel as if you deserved only the worst, to want to rip your black heart out every second that you lived, to be the source of everything horrible and evil that happened in the world. I thought that I was cursed with existence, and that she was doing me a favor, and she did everything she could. Many times she even brought men from the group she was in to try to rape the devil out of me, because apparently an orgasm was a the blissful gift of god that the devil couldn't stand. And I hid everything from my father. I didn't want him to interfere, because I thought I deserved this. I wrote about my studies, anything but what was really happening in this house.

"And then I finally meet the one person around whom I didn't feel like the evil burden of society, the one person who uplifted me, the one person who held me up rather than put me down... the one person whom I really loved. I was thirteen then. Was it only four years ago? And you know what I did? I killed him. I killed him willingly. I killed him horribly. I killed him so that he suffered. I didn't deserve to feel like that. I was the most evil thing in existence." Her eyes were dry as she stared blankly, unfocused into the space beside Seaheart's ear. "Most evil thing in existence," she repeated, as if in a trance.

"Then my father came. He somehow got word of what was going on for... god. It was ten years. Without fail. 52 weeks in a year. 520 whippings. 12 months in a year. 120 rituals. 121 sacrifices. And I didn't want to leave. Again I tried to kill myself when he rescued me from her. I needed her. Her work wasn't done. I hanged myself off the roof of one of his hotels. As you can see, I'm still alive. And here I am now, a few revelations later."

[Seaheart]

He looked at her. OK, so she was pretty facked up. But she was wrong about one thing. she wasn't the most evil thing in existence. "A couple of things here Dementia. Don't say sorry because like crying, it doesn't help. for the next, I know what it feels like I carry one of the most evil things in existence. I AM the most evil thing in existence.

Chaos and I are one. I...I'm not sure if I have a heart. At least a whole one but....that means nobody can break it, in a sense. I am the souroce of the bad things that happen in the world, and I enjoy them...Chaos does. I know my core...and I hate it. But you learn to live with it..at least I have. I killed to get stronger, killed for reasons unknwon, followed orders, learned to give them. I....I have to be hard on myself, to everyone. Don't say sorry, because it's just a word. Crying leaves you with the same problems. It doesn't matter. To many, we seem to be puppets in society, a puppet of torture to your grandmother, a puppet of destruction to my parents, a puppet guardian to the Guado tribe. But ewe must learn to not think like them take action into our own hands, and learn to treat those puppets, as comrades. It's like....a mission. We are given a team, and you must follow orders, or give the orders. Do not question, because the leader knows what he's doing. But I....it's strange.....it's not the same as being a puppet. So we must break our strings, and show htem we are more. Show your grandmother that you can be worse than the devil, because my dear, when it coems to revenge, it's a funny thing, and you don't have to win, they just have to lose." He saw how...disgruntled she was, how sad....it hurt him in a sense.

"Stop feeling so bad.....it hurts me as much as you." He realized they were still holding hands. He pulled her closer, into another kiss. He wanted to feel her troubles washed away, and when he was close like this, many of his troubles washed away, as with the memories. He kissed harder, pushing the memories harder, pulling her down again. It was hard to resist her when they were like this. He wanted her to stop feeling bad. Claws brushed through her hair, swiping around her as if swiping her bad memories. He was practically on top of her, exploring again, as if he might have found something she hadn't told him.

[Deon]

Dementia didn't make any motions, any sounds as she listened to what he had to say to her. She just listened, just absorbed, just understood, just tried to empathize. So he truly was exactly how she felt, huh? It's strange, how similar the image of their minds and their emotions were. The parallels were uncannily common, though their pasts were anything but similar. His was more fantastic than she thought possible, almost belittling hers into normalcy.

"Stop feeling so bad... it hurts me as much as it hurts you." His comforting words were still sincere. Even so, it was hard just to drop your entire demeanor with a well-meaning command. She didn't say a word as Seaheart pulled her closer to him, as he pressed his lips against hers, but responded with the hunger and need that stemmed from trying to push her memories away with the pressure of lips and bodies.

Seaheart's hair brushed her face as he positioned himself above her, his lips still locked onto hers. The warmth of his mouth seemed to drive away some of the coldness that had crept back up onto her as she relived what had happened in her past. She felt his claws run along the skin of her head, and wrapped her arms around his back. She needed to feel him.

[Seaheart]

Seaheart pulled her tighter, feeling how warm she was, and felt her pain dissolving. He wanted to feel her more. With Yuna...it seemed he needed her at times, but this, he wanted. He felt he never wanted anything from Yuna. What was more important when it came to love and this...passion? Need or want? He suddenly thought about a question. He released himself from her liplock asking "Dear....is there anyone else in this school you find...special? Close to or want?" He didn't know why he asked, but he felt something in her head that kenw someone else. He could get into peoples heads...literally.

He found out Yuna loved him that way. He didn't dare do it to Dementia. But he still felt close, and found that was something he should ask. He kissed her on the neck, so that he was still kissing her, bt so that she could speak. He then whispered in he ear, half joking, half cold "Oh, dear, if you ever dare try to kill me like your last boyfriend, I won't show you any of the mercy I showed the cops. I held back everything on them only because they were too easy. Understand?" He then went back to kissing her neck, awaiting the answer to his previous question.

[Tiffany]

Fleta gripped the door handle convulsively. She could feel the sweat break out on her forehead. Her palms were getting damp. She had wanted to get her stuff and put it up, then leave..wait to come back after dark to go to bed, hoping that Dementia would be asleep. She had been confident in her plan coming down the hallway. She had thought that Dementia would surely be somewhere else this time of day. All of the could have, would have, and should have's in the world passed through her mind as she gripped that dreaded door handle. She had been a breath away from opening the door..when she heard Dementia. Fleta didnt know who she was talking to, Dementias voice was the only one she heard. She figured that Dementia was on the phone..or talking to herself. Salvador did say she was crazy, right? She took a deep breath, unsure what she would find in there. She opened the door softly and without much granduer. What she saw made her heart stop. She could no longer feel its beat. Her life drained out of her, she thought, as she took in what fate had deemed to offer to her. Seaheart.....Blue hair.... The vision cruelly flashed through her mind, quickly though, thank God. She didnt need to be out of it long enough for Seaheart to find it in himself to introduce her to the otherworld before her vision had predicted..and just for the fact that Fleta had walked in on him trying to...She shook her head. That was the last thought she wanted to entertain...So Salvador was right..Seaheart and Dementia...Fleta felt like crying..right then and there, drop to her knees and cry her heart out. She would not give them the satisfaction. She stood up straight, gathered her lost senses and cleared her throat loudly. In the coldest voice she could muster. "I'm sorry, I thought that co-ed dorms were forbidden in this school. Obviously I have been mistaken." She raised an eyebrow at the young couple. " I wish I could say that I will leave you to what you are doing, but I have a pressing matter at hand. " She waved a hand to her bag. " I have things to put up. If you dont mind of course." She said, not really paying attention to what they had to say, nor waiting for an answer before she went to the bag she had thrown on her bed earlier. She slowly began to unpack, trying to not turn a nervous eye on the two. Truthfully..she expected that she had just sealed her fate in her nonchalance..and ignorance.

[Deon]

Dementia was startled by Seaheart's question, and she froze, still clutching on to his back. She found that it was getting harder to look into his eyes. What did he suddenly ask her that for? Why? She wondered if she should lie to him, but was afraid. He deserved the truth, but was she ready to fully give it to him? She was afraid of what his reaction would be, of what would happen to her, to her relationship with him if she did. It wasn't like she had done anything to betray him other than have thoughts in her mind that she damn didn't want. She didn't try to do it. Would he understand that?

"Seaheart... I--" her words were cut off she saw the door open in her peripheral vision. She turned around abruptly, unable to move much because Seaheart was pinning her to the bed. She never thought she would be so happy to see her new roommate. It was really a saved by the bell moment, though Dementia knew it was only temporary, and that her problems would come back to settle on her again later, when she and Seaheart were together again. She thought of the moment with dread, but intense anticipation. She couldn't stay away from him too long. He gave her too much that she needed.

Dementia let go of her grasp on Seaheart's body and wriggled out from under his lips, trying to sit up. She shot a cold stare at Fleta.

"Well, well. You must be my new roommate. Fleta, correct? Pleased to meet you. ...Actually, I'm really not. I'd damn you myself for disturbing us. My name is Dementia Kemik, though you should know that by now." She grinned a wicked smile, holding on to Seaheart's neck with one arm. "Sorry you should meet me like this. Of course you have things to do," the politeness didn't disguise how evil her voice sounded. She gestured to her bags. "By all means."

[Seaheart]

Seaheart felt her growing intense anticipation. He enjoyed it, in a sense. He felt he was about to tell her, but then was cut off, perhaps by nervousness? He didn't hear the door. She suddenly wriggled free of him, and he wanted to pull her down, but then he heard a girl, then Dementia. Wonderful......some guest. Her roommate. "No, they weren't allowed, but Dementia and me aren't one for rules, are we...dear?" He said with almost a cackling voice. He showed no hesitance to show rudeness in her own room.

He then whispered to Dementia. "I sensed your anxiety, your nervousness. You will tell me today, but not here. We should head back to the garage, then I shall leave you in peace. Just because we share a connection, does not mean it will come between me showing mercy to you. Your one person mercy can't be spared on." He said it in a bit of a teasing voice, telling her how wicked she could be, but also how dangerous she was, even to him.

[Tiffany]

Fleta watched Dementia scoot up and away from Seaheart. Was that relief? She frowned but turned and began to unpack, acting like she didnt hear what Dementia had said. She pretended to not care what they thought as she silently unfolded her clothes and went to hang them up. She tried not to listen to their conversation.What kind of relationship are these two in exactly? She asked as she picked up on a little of what Seaheart had said to Dementia. She repressed a shiver. She took out one single deck of tarot cards and set it on the table next to her bed. She remembered the feeling she had gotten the first time she flipped those cards in Cassis. It had to be because of this man..and the one she saw him standing next to. She also took out one small leather covered book. It was a book that contained interpretations of the tarot cards in her deck..and small things that she saw necessary to write in there, her little notes. She finished packing and went straight to the door, eager to get away from the two. "Have fun." She said as she hurried out the door and closed it quietly. She almost broke down there as she leaned against the door, but caught herself and went down the hallway at a fast pace.