1: Despair

The rains fell.

It fell and dropped onto the ground of the school of magick, leaving everything saturated with it's downpour. On the grounds, there was a bloodied sword with the blade jammed into the earth, gathering waters, dripping off the hilt and down the cutting, crystalline edge.

Where the sword laid, there was an aged willow not so far away from it's position, a lonely tree that was predestined to be let be, a violent, feared tree amongst the students. Though it was meant to be left alone, there was a girl within it, sitting on a branch with her back leaning against the trunk of the tree, staring up at the skies. There were marks on this girl, scratches, burns.... Blood that was her own and that of others, hundreds of men. Massacred.

She stared blankly into the abyss within the heavens, as the girl held her breath, and closed her eyes. She was malnourished from her elongated travels, but the scars barred into her sunk much deeper than that that was dug into her flesh.

For evident scars are not the ultimate sacrament....

***

Within the forest outside London, rested a shadowed girl who sat cross-legged, her hands displayed over her weakened and battered knees, eyes closed and head tilted upward, deliberating herself from all thoughts and burdens that were hovering over her shoulders, or at least for the time being. She took deep breaths, heavy breaths, trying not to think about the pain which came from within, screaming, banging its way through the delicate glass barriers.

Leisurely, she opened her eyes, staring lazily off into the darkness within the trees, and smiled as her golden eyes shimmered under the moonlight. After days of walking, she'd finally make it. London would be right before her, and the days of walking from Hogwarts would come to an end. Often along the way did she stop and rest, but just barely. She didn't feel the need to consistently rest and get back up so often.

The weariness from walking down the solitary road for three days ebbed away between her meditation, and she heaved out a sigh, then stood up and sway uneasily, with sagging eyes, lazy and fatigued.

As one couldn't see through apparent features, this girl wasn't a normal girl, for she stood alone. She wasn't just an everyday teenager with problems, running away from her normal tribulations. What was considered normal to her was just another day of school, yet fearing for life everyday. Not the life of her own, but the lives of others. She had walked upon this world alone, even when there were people around whom had the privilege and burden to call her a friend as well as an ally.

This girl's name was Ravine Jaxon, a name known by few, and with a purpose. Ravine was a girl, who was born with the gift of pure magick flowing within her veins, she was magick. She was a direct descendant of the very first people who possessed this power, those who called themselves the Nyne. But this girl was caught within a loophole while she was still within her mother's womb; Ravine was transported through several time frames ahead. Now appearing like a habitual sixteen-year-old at this very moment, but in reality she had to have been more than a few thousands of years old.

Was she proud of this? One may think so. To hold such immense power that could destroy anything she wanted to. Ravine Jaxon was able to conjure up spells that a normal witch would need years of training to accomplish, not to mention her ability to perform certain types of magicks that would take one years of experience to achieve. She was a weapon with a mind of her own, a conscience, and that was Ravine's one, single, flaw.

For a conscience wasn't going to save her this time.

She had managed to succeed through the preordained; Ravine Jaxon had cheated death, as well as the bringer of it. With the mind and body of a young woman, her mind had administered the type of torment that no one at such a young age should ever have gone through, and with a terrible price, for the invisible blood which stained her hands was indelible, not that she ever wished for it to vanish.

For the past few months, Ravine had been tracked down by a society of assassins after being told of what she was by the Nyne. Who had sent them, she did not know. She had no knowledge of these men, but she had been killed by one of them once, literally killed. She still had the scar in her chest to prove it, and the aches in her heart to know that it was there. With every step Ravine took, only more pain would follow.

I am no longer a vassal secluded from death, but I am to become it, she dourly thought, as she stood up and took off for London, her long, black hair swinging at her waist loosely. Un-brushed, ragged, and stained slightly red with her own blood. For the time being, she would head for Diagon Alley, where she could get properly prepared and suited for whatever she planned to do. Perhaps even gather information from those around her. She had managed to buy some new clothes by manipulating the feeble minds of muggles. It was simple, really. All she needed to do was hand them some leaves she had picked up, and in their eyes they saw whatever amount she needed.

Stealing? Ravine didn't think so. It was just a temporary resort until she figures out what she wanted to do, and she didn't have the time to go and seek out the right tools she needed. She didn't have time at all, because taking up a job would mean that she couldn't keep much of a low profile. No, this was needed. This was necessary, or so she thought.

Ravine sighed, after setting herself in a loose pair of jeans, a black turtleneck, some boots, and a cloak, she found herself ready to head off to Diagon Alley.

Averting her direction another way, Ravine took off towards her next destination, only to have found herself being pulled back into the darkness of an alleyway by a strong hand. She was thrown back, unable to even make a sound, and was being kept in a stronghold by the stalwart arms of a middle-aged man. Sure, he may have caught Ravine by surprise, but Ravine was stronger. Much stronger.

"Where d'you think your going, eh?" he whispered into her ear.

Ravine took a hold of his arm that wrapped around her neck. "Let go," she said firmly.

"Or what? Will you scream? Go ahead, that pretty little head of your will be popped off your shoulders before anybody can even get a chance to arrive," he said mockingly.

"Are you one of them?" she asked within a monotone.

"When you say that, you mean that I am sent here to kill you, right?" he laughed. "Then yeah. I am one of the demons you call them."

Ravine solemnly closed her eyes, calmed. "I see," she said quietly. "Then let the gods forgive me for the prelude to my ultimate sins."

The man gasped as Ravine took him by the arms, tossing him over her and he landed on her back. There was a loud cracking sound as his arm dislocated as he fell, for Ravine kept a firm grip over his wrist, tossing the assassin down onto the ground. He heaved out another gasp as Ravine created a drop kick, her heel handed onto his face and dug into his mouth. His jaw popped, broken, as she pressed her entire weight down onto him.

Within a snap, the killer's gasps had ceased.

Ravine stood upon the scene of her own delinquency, unmoving, stoic. She stared down upon him with vacant stare, her hair fallen over her face as she gazed down along his corpse. "How quaint," she said out loud. "Why don't I feel remorseful for my cause of your demise? Why don't I feel repentance?"

Stepping over his body, she felt another set of hands grasp into his wrists, pulling her away once more. Ravine swung herself around, her leg in the air, and caught another, older-looking male in the ribs, knocking him into the bricked wall. He heaved a wheeze, as he stared into Ravine's golden eyes, her foot pressed tightly over his chest, directly over his heart.

However, the secondary assassin thought quickly, for he grabbed her foot quicker than the eye could see, and began to twist it, pushing Ravine back into the wall and forced her down onto the ground. He slid out a blade from his waist belt, and a thin sword was aimed directly at Ravine's throat. She glared, staring upward.

"With your death, others will live," he said. "One more death can't be so sinful, could it?"

Ravine was taken aback, her eyes shot wide. These men...most of these assassins...they didn't kill because they wanted to. They weren't any less of a pawn than she was of the Nyne.

The blade dropped, now being engulfed within Ravine's entwined palm. Blood dripped from the sides of her hands, as she quickly made a swift move, kicking the assassin backwards, his blade forced up. He held it with a quivering grip; He did not know how to use the sword well.

"Please, sir, don't make me do this," she said, her eyes narrowed. "This is not your fight. Those who have taken away what you dear most, it is those that you wish to kill, it is they whom are your true foes," she said, her voice fervent and stern, her expression matured, too mature for just a regular girl her age. But by now we know that Ravine is not a regular girl. And the physical pain that surged through her hand meant nothing to her, for Ravine was used to this kind of pain; Even worse.

"It is my fight!" he yelled, infuriated. "My son...he's all that I've got left. They wanted my skills, and that is what I am going to use to get him back!" The man yelled, lifting his blade higher into the air and thrusted it downward towards Ravine, ready to slice her skull in twine. However, a swift, darkened entity intervened, throwing the blade off the course of its master's hands and across the alleyway, back into the darkness where it belonged.

The man looked as though he could cry, and Ravine turned, seeing the figure of a man standing, his silhouette barely visible through the light that shimmered through the night streets. He, too, wore a cloak, and a completely black outfit from Ravine's view. His face wasn't visible, however the outline of his hair revealed it to be a light brown, almost yellow.

"Leave now," he said forcefully, talking to the assassin rather than Ravine.

Ravine's gaze shifted between the two males, and the next thing she knew, the assassin vanished within a glistening of light, and single beam revealing that his sword had gone with him, as well as the body of the one Ravine had killed.

A smiling figure revealed himself from the darkness, walking up to Ravine. He held out a hand and helped her back onto her feet, but when he brought back his hand, he had seen that it was tainted with blood. He frowned, looking back to her. "First we're going to need to get you an aid," he suggested. "I know just the place to take you--"

"I don't have time for this," Ravine snapped, brushing passed the man, who held out his hand before him as he looked down upon the blood. Ravine's blood.

It had been then as he hummed a tune, forcing Ravine to halt and listen to the familiar beat. Slowly, she turned, peering over her shoulder with widened eyes, bewildered as the man continued to sing and hum.

Forthlasa Eden. It was the ballad of the Nyne. The song was over a hundred thousand years old, and only known among one kin. She turned around, listening, her mouth slightly opened, and then she turned and ran, feeling the need to escape, hearing the song rise within her ears as she ran.

Quickly had she fled, yet no matter where she went, she felt like the song was following her, singing next to her ear like an endless whisper that would forever play like a broken recorder. She dodged few people, for there wasn't many people roaming London while at night. Nobody would ever be foolish enough as to walk around on such a late time.

She was irked by the persistence of the man who followed her and the song he sang, a song that was impossible for him to have any knowledge of, unless if he was connected to certain people of that one kin that created it. As she attempted to lose him and his haunting voice by forming an escape rout which consisted of sharp turned around the corners of the streets, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure if he was still there or not, yet saw no one. Ravine panted, falling forward, leaning her hands over her knees, her raven hair descended over her eyes.

"What're you running from?" asked a voice.

Ravine screamed, leaning back up and tossed a fist forward, aiming for the nose of the following man, but her hand was caught within the palm of his own, enveloping his grasp around her fist and making it so that she had no control over it. Ravine tried to yank it back, but she found that she couldn't move.

Gritting her teeth, she hissed. "And why are you following me?"

"I asked my question first. What are you running from?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Mmm, a little," he smirked. "But I'm not the one you should be running from."

"Oh really?" Ravine glared. "Then who?"

"Him," he nodded cheerfully, then pointed over her shoulder with his free hand.

Ravine's eyes widened as she made a swift elude with her head as a set of arms attempted to grab her and pull her away from the man. Quickly, she found herself freed, away from the man and away from the assassin. Ravine coughed at first, worn out from running, but resumed her escape down the street, before she had fallen onto the ground, and everything swirled into darkness....

2: Commencement

Light peered through a glass window, shimmering over her eyes. Ravine groaned, rubbing a hand over her face as she sat up from a soft cushion, a bed. She then realized that she was rested within the quarters of a motel in Diagon Alley, she could tell due to the architectural designs of the buildings she saw on the outsides through the window.

Suddenly, like a knife stabbing into her back without her foreseeing it, Ravine's head had begun to burst with pain. She recoiled into a ball, gripping the sides of her head and digging her nails into her skull. Ravine grunted, flinching, trembling until the pain subsided after a while.

Just then there was a voice coming from the opposite side of the door.

"How is your fiancé, Mister Vincent?"

Ravine blinked, bemused. "Fiancé...?" she muttered aloud.

"Still resting, of course. Hopefully she'll be up soon, like you suspected."

"Yeah, hopefully those potions started to do their work by today with her wounds. Well, good luck," said the tone of an elderly woman, whose voice diminished through the footsteps that headed towards the opposite way of the hallway. Ravine sat up, her hands kept behind her to sustain her torso above the sheets, looking around.

The bed was set next to the window, revealing the open streets of Diagon Alley, people were walking down it, children were playing with sticks, pretending that they were wands and swords, and others were supporting each other upright over their shoulders as they walked out of the bars. Next to the door there was a closet, with some clothes that didn't belong to Ravine, but they were feminine-like, fitting for a woman. On the opposite wall of the room, there was a bathroom; She could tell from the sink, as well a well working stove with cabinet attachments. Next to her bed there was a bookshelf, containing some antediluvian muggle literature of Shakespearian tragedies that Ravine had been aware of, such as famous plays like Hamlet, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, et cetera.

Gods, Ravine wondered, rubbing her forehead. How long have I been in here?

"Good, your awake," said a man who walked through the doorway. She didn't recognize him at first, seeing that his hair seemed much lighter through the beam of the sunlight that shown through the glassy window, and his eyes were a darkened black hue, more like an amber brown. He had a strange, frosty blue hair with brown edges, showing that the cerulean dye was starting to run out due to his growing hair. He wore black denim jeans and a T-shirt that was slightly cut shorter at his left arm than the other. He didn't look half as bad as he had the night when he was following her and such. Or that was what she thought, he resembled a lot of that man.... Had to have been.

In his hands he was carrying a tray full of food, buttered French Toast, syrup, muffins, and a couple of large cups of orange juice.

"I bought some breakfast for you, hoping that you would get hungry when you wake up. The old woman who takes care of this motel said that she predicted you would wake around this time," he said with a smile, setting the tray down next to her bed stand. Ravine never took her eyes off him because she had been too busy eyeing him suspiciously, and she didn't want him to get any ideas. He didn't seem to care much about this, her shifty gaze, her suspicion.... He stood up, rubbing his back and looking over to her with a wink and a cunning smirk. "You've been out for a week, worried all of us around here. Luckily the old woman was more than happy to give me a 'betrothal discount.'"

Ravine quirked an eyebrow. "Betrothal?"

"Yup. Just between me and you, we're--"

"Oh my god...." Ravine groaned. "Its true when they say that when things start out bad they only get worse," she held herself close, rocking herself to and fro.

"Don't worry, I just said that you were my--"

"Supposedly affianced?" Ravine shuddered. "...yeah. I know."

The man laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Okay, sorry about that, but I've been really short on money, and the other inns ask for at least two hundred Galleons a night. Something I can't afford."

"Cheapskate," Ravine retorted, her eyes narrowing as she eyed him through the corner of her gaze.

"Hey, at least I bought you breakfast."

"Just."

"...and a room."

"Fine, I'll give you that much," Ravine sighed furiously, still angry that this man had to have done so much behind her back. She hated it when people didn't tell her things, and she's had enough of secrets and lies. It all got to her, and by now her liking for this man wasn't any different than her distaste for those two things.

The man laughed nervously. "Oh, geez, where have my manners gone? Well, the name's Vincent. Vincent Halcross," he said politely, holding out a hand for Ravine, assuming her for a formal shaking. "I've been traveling around since my graduation from school, looking for any sort of jobs that people would hire me for, y'know?"

"In other words your sort of like a mercenary," Ravine said stoically, just staring at his hand.

Vincent coughed, taking his hand away. "Well, yeah.... Call it what you will," he laughed again. "So, who're you?"

"Don't you already know?"

He shrugged. "How could I?"

She sighed and looked away. "Just...Ravine."

"Ravine? That's an...odd name, for a person, at least," he said, rubbing his chin. "Isn't that a type of landscape?"

"A land with a hole in the ground," Ravine retorted bitterly.

"Interesting."

"Not really."

"Heh.... Yeah, I guess it isn't," he said, and laughed again.

There had been an awkward moment of silence following the laugh, and Ravine just sat there, her head bowed low, cringing. She had been too caught up within her thoughts, contemplating about what she was going to do with her life, and how she was going to accomplish what she mainly came here for.

Recently, she had just departed from Hogwarts, fearing for the lives of her friends, or what little she had. Truly, she was running out of them, and the last thing she needed was to endanger their lives because she was being hunted. The last thing she wished was to lose another thing precious to her, on account of her being there. She had been tired of losing things, but right now she didn't care if she died or not, so she was going after the assassins.

Was it selfish to leave? Ravine didn't think it was.

Vincent seemed to have noticed Ravine and her contemplation, so he just turned and started out the door. "Well, I'll just come back to you later, okay? Make sure your all right. Eat up, you hear? It'll be good for your strength."

She nodded and he left. As she ate, but there was a sense of acidity in her food, it just didn't taste right, not like it should be.

Ravine sighed, and laid back down as she was finished with her meal. She rolled over, facing to the window and stared upward at the clouded sky, scanning the outside premises, and found that nothing changed.

Nothing ever changed.

3: Persona

A week passed, and Vincent had done as much as he could for Ravine. He cooked for her, discovering that he had turned out to be quite a chef. He made food of all sorts of nationalities; Mexican, Italian, Japanese, Chinese, Indian, French, Arabic.... She named it, he'd cook it. And she found his food quite pleasing in the end.

Vincent also turned out to be quite the kind of guy that Ravine was grateful to have run into. He didn't mind her being there, as a matter in fact he complimented her for the company, telling her that it was lonely being by himself all the time, and hated having to talk to himself every now and then; made him feel crazy.

Once when Vincent had returned from running some errands, asking her if she needed anything, and after a while of questioning her about hospitalities and such, she found him moving onto more personal questions, such as her family, her life, where she came from, why she was here, and, ultimately, what she was running from last night.

Of course she didn't want to tell him. There was no reason to, but then again there was no reason to keep everything to herself as well. However, she lied. She told him that her family were living in the Americas, and they had sent her over to Hogwarts. Her aunt lived in London, and came down with a serious illness, and Ravine had to take a train back and take care of her for the time being, and will hopefully be back at school in a week or two, perhaps even three, she didn't know. All this was devised in a matter of her sitting next to the window in monotony.

However, she failed to answer his other question, who she was running from, who those people were that were trying to kill her, had beaten her and left her in the alleyway to rot. Ravine knew, yet she didn't. She just told him that it was complicated at it was an exceptionally long story.

Vincent crossed his legs and rested his chin under his palm. "I have all day," he said with a cheeky smile, which faded when she returned it with a sincere frown and told him that she didn't feel like explaining it him right then. He only nodded, understanding, and walked away, making her a glass of butterbeer, and handing it to her. "Well, sometimes it isn't good to keep things to yourself, other times it is. I'm not going to interrogate everything out of you, you know? So keep as many things as you'd like from me, since it's not like its any of my business anyway," he smiled, and Ravine took the mug.

"So, what about yourself?"

"Me?" he repeated, looking away and rummaging through the cabinets, next to the dresser that was displayed next to the bathroom, where the beverages were placed. "Well, I grew up with a family. I wasn't very liked, though. Got myself into lots of fights with my siblings and parents, and then I got hooked up with the wrong sorts of people, and did some pretty bad conducts. Yes, you could say that I started with a family. But...." His voice trailed, turning to her. "...they sort of abandoned me. Not that I don't blame them."

"So...you don't have them anymore...?" she asked.

Vincent replied in silence.

Ravine sighed, taking the mug into her hands and laid her back against the bed, taking a sip of the butterbeer while looking at him. "I must have been pretty bad when you found me then, huh?"

Vincent looked vastly disconcerted. "There were burn marks on you. I saw them. And the scars."

"So I bet you'd want to know where I got those then, huh?"

"Can't say I'm not interested."

Of course, who wouldn't be interested? Ravine had actually gotten those burns scars from when she had "died." Killed with a sword in her chest.... She spent years in a place she called "Limbo" merely seeing nothing, hearing nothing else but the hatred within the voices of those who once cared, and she was burned for what felt like years in an astral plane, hated and punished for who she was.

"Well," Ravine looked into the liquids that swirled within her cup. "That, too, is a long story."

He nodded again. "Understandable," he said, before taking another sip of his own butterbeer.

4: Murderer

About four days had passed, and Ravine had finally managed to go out and buy herself some new clothing (gifts of Vincent, in fact.). She bought a completely new attire that wasn't quite as ripped and torn as her last one, her school robes and cloak that had barely kept her warm throughout her travels from the school, basically due to the holes punched into it that allowed cold air to seep through. Her black hair was also tied up now, around the waist where it was sustained by a large, thick, dark brown hair band.

Above all of her progressions, her wounds had begun to heal. She didn't realize that there were scratches and blood seeping through the bandages that Vincent had securely placed over her. As a matter in fact, she didn't really know that they were there until he mentioned that he wanted to take another look at her wounds.

By now they started to go away, except for the scars that would remain with her forever.

The scars would always be there. Marks that would never leave; They were her penance.

Ravine's expression became pained by the unpleasant memories that Vincent had been so curious to know of. Honestly, she didn't want to relive through them, whether or not if they be through her words or not. His curiosity reminded her that of a schoolmate at Hogwarts, a close friend named Gabryal, and one that she had immense feelings for, however, he couldn't, or ever would, return her with the same feelings. Ravine knew this, and yet it pained her to pursue these feelings since she knew that their positive reactions would be severed, on both sides. Besides, there was no way he could ever love her anyway, not only for he belonged to another, but Ravine was shamed of her emotions and loathed herself immensely for it.

Perhaps it was just best that she not get into any intimate affairs. Ever. Such a being like herself, a creature who was thrown through time, destined to spill blood and a monster whose already taken the lives of others.... No, she shouldn't have it. It was a dream too far for her to grasp.

Ravine pressed a hand over her upper chest, closing her eyes and thought in the sincere silence within the vacuous atmosphere. She looked over at Vincent, who had started to make dinner already, afraid of what he'd think about her afterwards should she have told him, afraid of what he might say to her, call her. The last thing she wanted was to be betrayed again, to be kicked and looked down upon with scorn and abhorrence.

Her heart beat faintly under her pressed hand.

She thought a lot about the words she wished to say over her meal. At last she finally had the strength to get up and walk, making her way over to the table so that she could sit and eat with him without having to lay down. Yet her legs were stiff and sore.

"Vincent, I think I am ready to tell you who I am running from," Ravine said quietly as soon as she was finished, swallowing her pride and ready to face her fears, her punishment of the outcome with words, sitting back down on the bed with her eyes closed. He remained silent, waiting for her to speak, but he sat back down in a chair, and looked at her intently, allowing her all the time she needed to gather her jumbled thoughts.

Ravine found the words, and began.

"I have...killed people," she said, almost inaudibly, she looked up and stared at him in the eyes as she spoke, he continued to watch her, yet he said nothing, and his expression told her nothing of what he may think. "More than the one I've killed while I've been here in London, a self-defense that you may claim that isn't a crime.

"I didn't have much of a choice, but I had to.... No, I guess you could say that I had a choice, I could have stopped myself. But there was nothing I could do to have found an alternative route around the problem. I was caught within a bind, with no way out...."

She looked over at him, a confused expression on Vincent's face. Ravine smiled weakly. "I lied to you. My family...they're dead. I have no family; They died because of me. About a year ago when they died, I would have black outs, thus I would wake up somewhere else. I had forgotten about it, only hearing about the death of my only family, and even my legal guardian, Edith. One moment I'd be in one place, and then suddenly everything would turn black, and I'd find myself somewhere else, occasionally...with blood staining my hands."

She looked at him again, and found nothing within his manifestation. "In a sense, I belong to someone else. My body is no longer my own. I'm not sure if it ever even was. There is a group of people who claim to be my factual family, the people who are also responsible for my life being in danger and for my alienations, which divides my true nature and abilities from others," she spoke so vacantly, like she had never been effected so by these actions. But they had. And Vincent had no idea.

"That man I killed in the alleyway was after me first, like I said, you could call it self-defense, but it is still taking a life, and with that, I deserve no better title than a murderer."

"Alright, so...let me get this straight. This is some advanced thinking for me, here, so give me a break," Vincent said at last, leaning back, rubbing his temples as though he were trying to meditate to gather his thoughts together. "There are people who are after you, of course, because apparently your different in some way. Obviously you know how to kill, some sort of hand-to-hand combat, since you flipped the guy over your head like you had, and overall, you have any idea who they were?"

Ravine shook her head. "Only that they're assassins."

"Any distinguishable marks they have? Patches, that and whatnot?"

"They all look like normal people to me. I don't think there is a way to tell. There were two that were after me at Hogwarts, one of them almost killed me, the other one...." she paused, thinking about the time that she had died.

It had been the day she was departing. She was ambushed from behind, a sword plummeted through her flesh, cutting through her chest like butter, an image that would forever haunt her; the sight of her own blood flowing off the metal edge of a blade and her life gradually draining. Ravine died that day, but something went wrong as she was departing from the world of the living and heading towards death, because she didn't fully die. She was caught within a dimension between life and death, imprisoned for over a hundred years of burning torment. It was amazing that she made it out the way she had, being retrieved by a woman of the Nyne who called herself Sheika Forthlasa Nos, the bearer of the Songs.

She was the one who sang to her, used her luring song to reel her away from the school and pull her away from death. She had died that day, yet her mind was still alive for over a hundred years, tormented by the harsh words of the people she had once cared for and loved. And some that she still did love.

"Well...?" Ravine said softly, watching him. "What do you think?"

He sighed and stood back up. "I don't think any less of you as I had before I first met you, however, I do know that you have some serious issues, but...they're unavoidable ones, that's for sure. I'm not going to hold them against you, nor am I going to call you a murderer, as you called yourself.

"So...you killed people. Life goes on, and one day you'll eventually die, just like them," Vincent continued. "In my opinion, there are two types of murderers, some who can go on through life, continuing to kill people and living off it. And then there are those who have killed, stopped themselves, yet mope everyday, bitching from time to time about the sins they've committed and wishing they could take those sins back. Its an impossible dilemma between either one for a murderer, but its either one or the other. You choose whether to be the one killed, or to be the one who kills. Nothing changes, because in the end, someone dies. And in my own words, people should just stop bitching about the horrible things they've done and how much their life sucks and just get over it."

Ravine stared, shocked and yet feeling much like she had just been told off. She smiled faintly, and said in a weakened tone, "Yeah.... I guess I must have sounded pretty pathetic then, huh?"

"Just," he said with a grin, turning back to her. "Only just." He then stared at her after taking another gulp of his butterbeer. "You have a vacant smile, you know that?"

She tilted her head, confused by his sudden change of subject. "What d'you mean?"

Vincent set down his own mug of butterbeer and started to walk towards her, looking down upon her fixedly. "Uhuh...you're smile is very much vacant, which means that you don't do it very often, do you? You need to make it more fully, like mine," he said, and then smiled broader than her own so that dimples materialized on his cheeks. "Of course, judging by what you previously told me, I bet that you don't really have anything to smile about, would you."

Ravine leaned backwards, crossing her arms. "Not really."

"Yeah.... Well, you need to smile a bit more like this," he pressed his hands over her face, his thumbs caressed the edges of her lips and he began to pull them outward, until Ravine smacked his hand away and let out a single laugh.

"Stop that!" she said with a more complete grin this time, her hand over her mouth.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

"Eh...."

"Well, I figured that you needed happier memories, you know?" he said with a shrug. Ravine was suddenly reminded again of Gabryal, one time when they were talking upon their schoolyards. He'd been there to cheer her up from the things that currently troubled her, and even made her smile back then. But that was a long time ago.... Once more had Ravine frowned, an expression that seemed to have caught Vincent's attention. "Not good enough, was it?"

She shook her head. "It was a good attempt at least, to actually talk to someone who tries to enliven me again. Its been a while, or it feels that way."

Vincent beamed back at her. "I try," he said.

5: Kiss

The next day, they both managed to get around Diagon Alley. She had started to go about on her search, yet that day there was no success. Vincent reassured her that she always had some other time to deal with it, she can look for any of the assassins the next day.

As they had gotten back to their room at the motel, Vincent had asked her what she'd do if she finds one as soon as they had gone back to their motel room. Ravine replied, telling him that she would use him to find where he was working at.

"And what are you going to do when you find them? Those assassins?"

"I'm going to kill them."

"So, that's how it is?" he asked, his voice grown stronger and more irritated for some means. "You're going to just go and kill them all, simple as that? Stooping down to their level just so that you can get your so-called revenge?"

"Its either me or them, you got that?!" Ravine raged, fuming about Vincent's persistence as well as the fact that they still haven't acquired any clues just yet. She wanted to hit him, yet she didn't find the heart to do so for some reason. "It isn't necessarily a good feeling when you die, and are trapped in a hell-like prison for so long! One can only take so much in their life, lose so much, and apparently someone like you wouldn't understand!"

"I see," he said calmly, backing away. "So is that what happened?"

Ravine glared. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

He tapped his temple with a wide smirk. "Its called a 'babysitter's mentality,' a gift of mine I have."

"And your a bastard, you know that?"

"Uh, I think I still have a dad," Vincent's beam widened once more, and then he sighed. "Of course someone like me wouldn't understand. I've gone through some pretty bad crap in my life, but from what you've explained about yourself, it's not quite that bad. However, you still don't know enough about me to judge."

"What is there about you that I can judge?"

"Well," he looked up in a mocking form of contemplation, "I'm a fun loving guy--" ("Says you," replied Ravine quietly.) "--who likes long walks on the beaches, a good dinner with a date with someone outside of the family, avoid hillbillies at all cost--" (...because we all know that you aren't one yourself.) "--and most of all, I enjoy also a fun loving girl. ...or a lost soul who drifts along on those beaches that I oh-so love to walk upon." Vincent smiled sweetly.

"That's...interesting," Ravine said, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms.

"Really?"

She stopped, made a mock-thinking gesture, then said, "Nah, not at all."

"Thought not," he grinned. "Anyway...." He sighed, walking over to the window and gazing on the outside, watching as the sun outside had begun to set. "About your current circumstances, we're going to have to do something about that."

Ravine quirked a brow. "We?"

Vincent beamed as he peered over his shoulder. "Of course. Like hell am I gonna let a cutie like you get away, and I can't bare to see cuties in pain, thus I am going to help you through this. I'm pretty good at critical thinking, so perhaps that may help a little. On the plus side, I am pretty good with muggle technology, so perhaps they may have some information outside the magickal boundaries."

"Perhaps."

"So, I guess you are after these guys for doing some pretty bad stuff to you, huh?"

"You could say that," Ravine said, combing her fingers through her black hair as she sat down onto the bed. "What about it?" She said, finding his silence rather peculiar, then the thought came into mind. It had been a while, and she had forgotten about the night when he found her, that song.... "Um, Vince?" Ravine trailed discreetly.

He turned to her, his brown eyes blinking. "Eh? What?"

She scratched the back of her head, averting her gaze away from him. "That night that you found me, and that song that you sang...."

"What song?"

She looked over to him, and noticed his bemused expression. Ravine shook her head, staring. "That song that you sang...that was you, wasn't it? Forthlasa Eden, its not a common song for just anybody to know. I wanted to know how you knew of that song--"

Vincent snorted a laugh, and Ravine fell silent. What did he find so funny?

"You must have been daydreaming or something, either that or it wasn't me. I found you sprawled in an alleyway, beaten to a bloody pulp. By the time you woke up most of your wounds had been healed, so you may not have noticed that they were there right now. I'm not sure what happened to you the night before, but I saw what those guys had done to you, and I couldn't help but allow my curiosity."

Consequently, this man, Vincent, wasn't the same man she had ran into, the same person to have sang the song that was only sung by the woman who claimed to have been Ravine's biological mother, Sheika. Which also meant that he hadn't seen her kill that assassin. But why did they look and sound so much alike? Was it just that her ears had been playing tricks on her, or just a simple mistake?

"So...I was beaten...?" she said, cringing slightly.

"Yeah," Vincent retorted nonchalantly. "I patched you up pretty well, though, yet for some reason I didn't think that it was enough.... Surprised some of the residents when I brought you in, and that was where I got the help. Told them that we were mugged," he then turned to her, pulling up a chair and setting it next to the bed that Ravine had settled herself onto in a sitting position, seemingly watching her for some reason.

Ravine cringed, as though feeling ashamed of something. "I left my former life behind to pursue an enemy that I have no knowledge of. I wear a mask to fool those around me, my burning sins emitting from my fallen foes, and words of uncertainty of an emotion that I have never felt before.... I don't think those wounds that you found on me that night were the worse I ever had." She huddled, folding her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs, and resting her chin over her knees, staring into a dimension beyond contemplation.

For the first moment, Vincent looked as though he wasn't so sure what to say, his shifting eyes telling her that behind that face of his, he had been devising up of the right words to say. "Well, y'know," he finally said, "they say that if you replace the bad memories with the good ones, life becomes a whole lot easier," he said, kneeling down onto one knee. "So, what d'you say?"

"Say to what?"

"About good memories."

Ravine shrugged. "I guess it wouldn't be too bad to--"

She had been caught in mid sentence when Vincent made a quick flash within a movement that Ravine had failed to foresee, pretty much because nobody had ever made such a movement to become this close to her face before. The next thing she knew, something was pressing against her mouth, and it wasn't Vincent's fingers, they were his lips.

Her eyes widened, her body gone stiff and ridged, her huddled position broken between her and him, leaning further back but Vincent had followed, his hands gripping her shoulders. Ravine winced in a momentary twinge, yet with it being spoken between their mouths, any sounds she'd made came out relatively muffled.

Finally, after a moment, he pulled away. Ravine stared up at him, shocked to see a smirking Vincent. "That was supposed to be very friendly, and only that. It meant nothing else whatsoever, so you don't have to mind m--"

"No shit!" Ravine snapped, angered as she pushed him harshly away. She wanted to smack him, yet she couldn't find the right to do so. Instead, she pushed him even further away and decked him in the face with her balled fist. Nobody would ever touch her, whether alone earns the right to kiss her, without her consent, and expects to get away with it.