convergence (Earinor & marquis)

"That too, but what does that matter? You'd be rid of her, she'd be in custody and pay for her misdeeds and she'd also be save, you know. It's not like she'll never get out of that cell, and they're quite cushy." It wouldn't reform her, but Ros wouldn't want to get into the details of that. Why care? It wasn't his life, he hadn't picked that path of thievery, of making the wrong choices in the wrong place - not anymore, anyway. Why care about that which once was, when the frost in his bones was beginning to thaw, heralding a spring that should never come? "I understand. But it's not that I care. You want to take it apart, make something out of it, use it for some do-goodery, or at least for what you believe would be right, don't you? Well, I don't think something so powerful should exist, or belong to one person alone, and the magistrate would agree. It's not getting thrown out, handed to the next best geezer that claims to work in the same field as you. It's going to be destroyed, simple as that - after it's been analyzed." If Nathan would work the same job as him, he'd understand, but Roscoe knew that he'd rather rid himself of those all-seeing eyes of his than actually care for what the world was worth. There was no icebreaker here - only stupid ideas, and a mind so childish, Ros didn't expect Nate to have grown up in the time they hadn't seen each other.

"And what do I care?", Ros asked, without a shred of remorse. "It's eat or be eaten. And since when do you care?" His patience for Nate was running drier than just about any desert would and could. There was, frankly, no need for the form of hostility he was showing, but Ros felt attacked, in a way - maybe his pride was being scrutinized, or he just took things too seriously than they really were. "And might I remind you, you were just the same as me. Why care, for someone like that? Why care now?", he grunted, offended by the alledged realization that he'd never change, or at least by the mild complaints Nathan seemed to have. Roscoe grabbed the wooden spoon he stirred the sauce with - it would crack if he kept that up, worse yet, it would probably dig it's splinters into his hand. "Pretend to be her, fool Abaddon, get what we want. Unless you want to do it your way. I don't care.", Ros soon made clear and went to strain the noodles themselves. Sure, the two of them weren't always friendly, but right now, it was ever so much worse it seemed. "You should eat something, and meat is food. If you don't want any, we won't have any. Fine. God forbid I ask my guest what he wants to eat. Ungrateful as always." What a complaint - it was true, and yet, what else was he supposed to ever say about someone like Nate if he failed to just be normal, for once in his fucking life? It pissed him off, badly. Ros poured the water down the drain, through a strainer, and then tossed the noodles with the sauce, because frankly? Now he didn't care about making it presentable, or eatable, for that matter. He rubbed his face. Agony. Could Nate tell? Most likely - he always could. Flowers would sprout from his bones before Ros would not be vindictive. "So? Fuck dinner, who cares, what do you want to do? We better get to it right now."

"I didn't want to be rid of her, she's a friend. I was right not bringing her here or asking your help.", Nathan replied with a mix of being taken aback and anger. Ros wasn't making things any better with his view on that artifact, or any artifact. "I'm really sorry you and your peers hate my kind so much. Analyze? If you had any half decent mage employed to do that job, maybe I'd agree, but all you have is some second hand idiots who never even touched an artifact like that outside their job. I study these things for all my life and I used the leyline artifact once to figure out what it is, in a save manner. I'm not running around and use all of the things I gathered over time left and right. Don't you think I have one or two artifacts in there that would help us now? I won't take them out of there and if I have to, I will sever the connection of my door so they are save like I kept them save for decades." It was always the same with Ros, one day if he had stayed he would have turned him over claiming he was a danger to himself and others.

"You're worse than when I left. All this time you strife to be normal in an abnormal world and you choose to retain your ruthlessness, but fight your hunger? You care so little for others I don't even understand why you refuse to eat. Telling me to take care of myself is rich for someone who hasn't eaten in a while and don't think I don't notice." Not only was he willing to get someone killed, he probably would kill someone soon if he continued to deny his nature. "I was never like you. You always wanted to mold me into someone that agrees with you on every account. You don't want a friend, you want someone who agrees with you. When I complained about society or the people in it, I didn't mean that I wouldn't care if they died!" Get someone in trouble and don't care about it was the plan? "And how do I fit in that plan of yours?", he asked. Sitting at home and wait? "I didn't ask you to cook for me.", he reminded Ros. "You know what? I don't have to deal with your moods anymore." Nathan felt this situation grow out of hand and there was no winning with Ros. The next moment he was gone, back in his own home, whether it was save or not. He ran once more, but Nathan didn't know what else to do. Maybe Ros would calm down eventually, or maybe it was a mistake asking him for help. He was too tired for this and some sleep was in order. Maybe his dreams would tell him how to get Abaddon to fess up on his own.

Was this all too much? Roscoe knew that he had a hard time controlling his anger, he always had once he had grown sufficiently hungry, yet even overall, he was as vindictive as could be. Why care for others, for roadblocks in an already unsteady path that he had carved out himself and why make it all his problem in the first place? As Nathan disappeared, he'd done so not the first time - he'd rather run from the truth, from the realization that the chill was going to eat through his skin and muscles, until his heart would frost over as well, beating ever so steadily until it would stop. Winter wouldn't draw them apart, neither would a frostburn - instead, Ros was almost convinced that, if only Nate gave it a chance, would accept the dismissiveness that the cold brought with itself, he'd learn to enjoy it to. Now, instead, because his ex wouldn't see eye to eye with him on it - as always - he stood there, confused, befuddled even, his eyebrow twitching with annoyance as the corners of his mouth were dragged closer to the ground. There was nothing but crushing silence, something that weighed him down like a heavy blanket of snow would - his annoyance burned, hotter than a thousand suns, and brighter than the reflective surface of white snow. There was nothing to be done about spilled milk, sure, but there was something that he could do to combat the insane idea of all of this being deserved.

Why could Nate see? Why had he ever told him about that anyway? His body was tense, yet his flesh was tender, defrosted - aching from the way his muscles had been compressed within the form he was molding himself into, even as none of his body would really fit - and yet, he was too prideful to even consider cutting any of his own flesh off, dastardly convinced that he'd need it, even while he lived a life that he wasn't supposed to. Nate was right, and Ros hated it when he was; because it meant he was a failure in every aspect, not able to mimic what he'd worked so hard towards to - and then, again, why care about this mans opinion? Roscoe bit his tongue, not that there was anyone to direct his anger to anyway, but he knew that if he didn't, he'd explode into a thousand angry splinters. What kind of paint could hide that miserable visage of his? How was it possible that Nate still hurt him in all his prideful glory? Ros hated it. Every aspect of it. Right now, he was like an animal, driven by the idea of ignoring an old wound, a misdeed done to him that he was scorned by, all the while there was something in the back of his mind that called out for him as well. Silence. He didn't need all of this. Shut up. Silence. Right. Ros wasn't hungry. Nathan was insane. What did he need? There was ... what ... no. Right. Alright. Collecting his thoughts, he finally straightened back up and tossed the dinner he'd made out, went for a shower and then crawled into bed.

The next morning wasn't much better - he'd ignore the details of it and trotted to work, his face the slightest bit sullen. Was Nathan really right? Why was this affecting him so much, why was he still thinking about all of this so intensely? There was no way out of this, there was no way about it - nothing he could do, no way out, simply none. When he ducked into his office, there was something on his desk in an envelope - one peek in and he was sure it was Lilya's, and that was all he needed. Ros crumpled it in his jackets pocket after reading it, then left again instead of even sitting down. One message to his boss would work; he didn't want to work today. That was a rare case. For a while, he just walked around, contemplating life and all that which was said yesterday. He sneered at it in the end, knowing it was just another idiotic portrayal of him. Eventually, he went over to Nathans place, knocked, but wasn't let in - he let himself in thereafter, only to find it empty. Was this idiot dense? Did he really go after Abaddon by himself? Ros pulled his phone out, which had happened more often in the passing days than he'd like for it to, and sent Nate a message. >Where are you?< No response. >Are you dense?< Why care for him now of all times? Silence permeated the air in the most uncomfortable way. >Fuck you.< Then he'd have to pick him up, huh? Once Ros procured the letter from Lilya out of his pocket, he at least knew where to go - and how would he get in? Not like this, but using her was wrong, wasn't that it? Nate was already planting seeds of doubt at the back of his mind again, but Ros would figure it out himself as he made his way there.

Nathan couldn't deny that all of this affected him. He didn't fall asleep right away, not at all actually. He got up again to have a quick snack, then read a little bit to get his mind off of things. Eventually he found a few hours of sleep. The next morning he didn't quite know what to do yet. Ros didn't write him, he rarely apologized for anything, he was thick headed and Nathan wondered if any of his apologies were ever genuine, or if he said anything for Nathan to come back home. Whatever, Nathan had his own home now and he was his own accomplished person. If he needed information from Abaddon, he could get it himself. There was no way he could teleport in or out of his headquarters, no matter if it was his club, his office, or the archive or vault. Maybe he could with a bit of time disable the seals, but he'd not have much time. Maybe if he just got what he wanted and then got thrown into a cell, he'd get out? This wasn't the best of plans, but all he had. He'd figure out the rest.

Nathan packed a few things, some potions and powder, some tools. Some of it he just neatly stored away in his pocket dimension, some he kept on his person, then he got going. His plan? Ask to speak to Abaddon who had it out for him anyway, claim the magistrate knew he was here, get Abaddon to feel safe and run his mouth to learn what he could. Right, he got going more or less confident. Abaddon liked his clubs, he had many and he regularily had private dancers of all forms. Shapeshifters were the best to employ, they could just look like whatever their clients wanted. It was easy to get someone to lead him through the halls outside the club and to the higher floors where the boss resided. In the beginning dancers lined their path, eventually it looked far more serious. Two centaurs escorted Nathan, a few werewolves stood guard along the way. The big door to Abaddons office was opened and Nathan was shoved inside. "You here. What a surprise...", he was greeted. Nathan shot him a glance, then looked around a bit. "You stole something from me, I want it back.", Nathan told him, being shoved two more steps forward so he stood in front of the big desk. "You are not in a position for demands." "Were you after Shiva?", he interrupted him. He could see in his eyes that this surprised him. "The magistrate is involved and if you are not after her then whoever paid you probably is. They might be after you too. It would be better for you to just tell them who you are working for." This wasn't even a bluff, but nothing that would help Nathan directly and Abaddon knew that. He laughed. "If they show up here, which is unlikely, they will find nothing and if someone is after me, which is even more unlikely, they won't get through to me. You are only here because you pose no threat. You're overestimating your abilities Nate, you shouldn't have come here." "The leylines collapsing could affect you too." "Nobody will be in my way. What, did you come here to talk me into giving up the information I have?" He laughed again. "No...", Nathan answered having had enough time here to break at least a few seals. He wouldn't be able to get out of here, but a few rooms were possible. He was gone in an instant, teleporting from room to room, seeing things he didn't want to ever see, but that was a price he paid willingly. Once he found the archive, he tried to find some order. Ordered by years, good, ge just snatched every folder of the current year, throwing it into his pocket dimension. The door crashed open only a minute later, it wasn't hard to guess where his goal was. He could still teleport, even though he didn't know his destination. He fled downstairs, figuring it was harder to catch him amongst the crowd or the private rooms. He defiently left some chaos, spilled drinks, spooked customers, all that. One werewolf grabbed him and landed with him in a couples bed. The chaos helped and if he could teleport to the entrance... No, his luck ran out before that. While in the middle of a teleport something hit him out of it as soon as he left the lower floors, as if he hit a wall. Not impossible if someone used seals, but that wasn't it. He crashed into some chairs, but that wasn't all. He couldn't teleport anymore, let alone get up. He felt as if all energy was drained from his body and trying to push himself up was of little to no use. "Got you...", Abaddon grinned as he came into the room. "Now, you are lucky I still have use of you."

Roscoe texted Lilya - her work phone, anyway - and told her where he was going now, and that if he wasn't back in time, she might as well show up to give him a hand. The combination of odd, maybe even stupid coincidences that culminated over one another was almost forcibly so brought about by both of their shortsightedness of certain events - while Nathan could never wait, Ros could never really stop. They could have and should have done that together and not by their lonesome, but it seemed as if one stupid, maybe mean comment was enough to push either of them over the edge like little children, fighting with sticks over the actually important things. It was stupid, and Ros knew he was stupid for even attempting this, but at least he used his way there to let others know where he went, unlike Nathan, who'd get himself in trouble because his only contacts were an ex-boyfriend he abandoned and a possibly already dead thief on the run. This world was unforgiving, quite rude even, but all that was fine, wasn't it? There was no way out of here in the first place, not before they didn't fix all of this crap with the leylines and whatnot - but Ros was already thinking too much about the words that Nate had said yesterday. Maybe he should allow himself food, something to eat, once in a while when the insides of his eyes started itching and his skin felt like it was tingling, comming off of his flesh in one swift pull anytime soon. There was nothing he couldn't endure, but there was something he just didn't want to endure.

By now, he was smoking a cigarette at some street corner, trying to catch a cap and to mask his smell better - he knew that he was the one with the fine nose, the eye for details while being imperfect himself. There was nothing to be done here, not that it ever had been, and yet he was stalling, still, wasn't he? Where was he supposed to go, and more importantly, why was he heading there with such confidence that they'd let him in in the first place? Somebody would sniff it out immediately, so pretending to be Lilya seemed like it would be borderline impossible. Roscoe, eventually, took a detour to where Lilya lived, or he at least heard that she did - this was simple, she wasn't home, and he'd borrow some things from her, that was all - frankly, he should have asked first, but why ask if he could just do it? She'd understand, he was sure of that at the very least - and Ros knew that just about any fine nose was fooled easily. Not wasting his time away, he shot her another message just so she'd know, then fiddled with the lock on the door. To his surprise, Lilya opened it not a second later and looked at him, befuddled. "What do you want?" "Break in?" Another odd look of hers, then she let him in. "Didn't take you for that type.", was all she said, then locked the door behind the two of them. "I don't, normally at least. Why are you home?" "I knew this was going to happen. Besides, I'm fucking tired from all that paperwork you made me do for you!" Her apartment looked sufficiently messy, maybe even in disarray. "You should clean-" "Ros, shut it. Do you want my help or not?" There was a long pause, before the two started fiddling away at the finer details of it all - while it was easy to mimic someones entire looks, it wasn't easy to be them, and even when Roscoe played pretend as his second nature in life, it still needed more than that. His own clothes didn't fit anymore after a much needed adjustment to Lilyas form and his eyes were sore rubies' that would stand out. "I didn't know you were like that." "Because you don't need to. Who needs to know what I am, anyway?" They both smiled at one another, equally deranged, only for Ros to take a shower in this filthy hellhole, to at least start smelling like her. Afterward, she presented him with some of her clothing that he could wear, a pair of earrings if need be, a jacket - as if he'd need that - a pair of shoes and a proper hairstyle, as well as complimentary make-up and a little tincture. "You're not going to put that in my eyes." "Shut up, I will." "Ugh." Being a woman was already one thing, but then having some sort of potion crawl over his disjointed skin? Ew. Disgusting.

With all precautions taken, Lilya shoved one more thing in his hand - Ros knew what it was, but he didn't acknowledge it. He just solemnly nodded as he walked off, got a little boost to where Lilya was sure Nate had sauntered off too and then let himself into the place - pretending to be her could do him more harm than good, true, but he'd left all of his belongings at her place, was wearing her clothes, smelled like her in all aspects and looked like her as well - even the eyes were fine now, and to adapt to her walk was by far the more challenging thing. Blame it on a sore leg or something, she'd told him and he hoped it would work. What was he even going to do? Find out where they'd put Nate first, or second? Somebody needed to get rid of Abaddon, and Lilya had told him that it would be quite easy to get close to him like this - if he was here, and yet, Ros had a bad idea about it. Begrudgingly he'd entered the den of this bastard and told what Lilya had told him to - hand the barkeep his card, let himself be escorted up, past the dancers and guards, and then just play pretend. The thing, however, was that this place seemed to be in disarray for some reason, or at least in the middle of a pick-up session post some problems. It was weird to see - was this Nates fault? He'd bite his head of, and speaking of which, it was ... smelling too good in here. No. This wasn't the time to eat. "Lilya?" ... How funny they all looked. "Lilya? Hello?" Maybe, if he just sank his teeth into one of the- "Hey, Lilya!" Finally, Ros looked up. "Ah, yes, sorry!" "Man, don't space out around Abaddon, he's already ticked off enough as is. Anyway, wait here for a bit, yeah? He's busy, but he'll pick you up." The stranger directed him to sit down in a cushy chair - well, better than standing around, waiting for this guy.

One could have thought someone placed a gravity spell on Nathan, but no, he just felt incredibly weak. He lifted his head to look at Abaddon who stood above him triumphantly. At the very least Nathan got what he wanted and it seemed there waa no way like this that could force him to give it back. "What...?", he asked. Was that the thing that disabled the seals? Was it possible it held so much power it disabled all magic around it, even the naturally produced one of his kind and others like him? If so this arrifact was more potent and volatile than the one which he lost and more than a fair trade. With this it would be easy to subdue half of the magical population, even if it didn't seem to have an effect on demons, centaurs, or minotaurs. That made sense though, they didn't produce magic, they were born how they were and didn't need magic to survive. Not that it was something like food, it was everywhere, but right now the air was emptied out of it, much like Nathan.

"I was wondering what kind of effect this little thing would have on your kind. I needed to switch my werewolves for other guards, they are no use if they can only transform during a full moon", he explained. Nathan tried to see it with his own eyes and Abaddon didn't hide it. It was some form of box that looked like a casing, inside he saw something shimmering in green light, that was all. There was nothing much he could say about it from here. Abaddon nodded and one of his goons pulled Nathan up. "I wanted to visit you anyway, I'll drive you home and you can conjure that vault for us. Like this I can be pretty sure there will be no traps or illusions." Nathan glared at him. "Your plan sucks, there is... No way I can conjure that door right now...", he huffed. Abaddon demeanor changed and he punched Nathan straight in the face. "That's for destroying my club and almost making me use that thing down there. Imagine the damage then." Nathan had no witty reply and Abaddon was interrupted by someone whispering something in his ear. "Put him in one of the smaller rooms and keep this close to him, I don't want him to weasel his way out. Send for Sait, he can figure out how to get me what I want." He tossed one guard the artifact, then left and Nathan was dragged somewhere else. He soon found himself brought to another room that at least didn't look like the inside of a dungeon, but rather had a bed and some red light. His pockets were emptied, the contents lay on a table out of reach and while he was for now placed on the bed, one of the guards had his hand firmly planted on his shoulder to keep him where he was. Not that he could run like this. The artifact was in the other guards posession. He had no idea who this Sait guy was but when someone entered with snake like eyes, he could imagine. The artifact didn't affect him either it seemed, he was in human form, aside from the eyes and split tongue. What had he gotten himself into?

While Ros waited, he wondered if Lilya was ever scared of this goddamn place - it seemed so large an imposing, yet, at the same time, it felt empty in all its vastness. Ros hated it, it was an eyesore and this dress was, if anything, annoying to even have to wear. Why was this stuff so short, and why had Lilya not just given him a pair of pants? Yuck. With all this time on his hands, he just mulled over how he'd best approach this entire scenario - Lilya had rolled it out for him just fine, and Ros knew he could trust her, because if he couldn't, she'd be in for a world of hurt and she knew as much. How much was too much? That, he could only fathom, and yet, at the same time, he had so much to think about that, in the end, it hardly mattered how he went about it - this situation was clear as anything could be and so was his goal. All of this was cemented into the fact that he had someone call Abaddon for him, who would hopefully fall for this shitty little trick of his and then be stupid enough to actually get into a lone room with him, away from guards he couldn't all take on. Right here, right now, it was easy to be content with what he had anyway, but he feared that - the closer he came to any living, breathing organism, the hungrier he would get. Why control himself, why deny himself? Ros wondered if Nate had been right all along, or if a transformation of this kind just amplified his need to consume to uphold what power it was using to get through to him. Speaking of which, something was odd, maybe even off - the atmosphere stunk of something heavy, like lead flowing through the air.

At some point that felt like it had been forever, the door finally opened up with a shriek, and the man of the hour was brought before Ros, who had grown almost bored, almost complacent with the idea of waiting for literal years before somebody would come to address him, then throw him out for mimicking Lilya of all people. The air hurt, it was heavy, like a blanket of snow, crushing him and his bones. Something was off. Terribly. "There you are. Found your way back, huh? I suspected you'd grow hungry after a while.", Abaddon spat at the person in front of him and Ros smiled - he already hated this man, with every fiber of his changed being. There was nothing to be done here except play coy for now, and maybe even get him to be alone with him. Sure, two of his men had followed him inside, but Roscoe knew there was more to that. "It's not the hunger." Was he starving? He, himself, definitely was - not yet, but he was close to it. Lilya? Who knew. She always ate everything she could get her hand on, as long as it was food that tasted somewhat edible, yet, Ros only knew that she was a glutton that never put on a single pound, and not exactly what it was that she ... no, actually he had a hunch. "Don't deny yourself now, Lilya. And don't waste my time. What is it that you want of me?", he asked her - Ros started fidgeding, Lil had told him to at least play a bit hard to get and not divulge everything at once, to make it more believable, to turn this act of supsicion into an act of understanding. "I ... wanted to report back.", he lied, but his ever so bright eyes - not red anymore - gleamed with innocence. "Report on what?" "There's someone that's trying to get ... do they have to listen?" There was a pregnant pause, as the cold air almost froze over. "Lilya, do not waste my time." "I'm not wasting your time, but this is meant for your ears and your ears alone.", Roscoe told him. Everything to be closer to Abaddon. What did he have to do? A smirk appeared on the mans face, much like it had been conjured onto it. "I guess, for a price." "What price?" Another moment of silence, then a snicker. "Why don't you come sit here? If you make it worth my while, I'll entertain your stupid request." Oh, absolutely not. How disgusting. No. He couldn't show that.

Ros, his limbs ladden with lead, weariness drinking from his very essence, got up and walked over to him. Abaddon didn't comment on it, not even when he let himself fall into his lap, daintily sitting on it. He wanted to tear his hair out. "Well then?" "The guards first." With a wave of Abaddons hand, the two guards walked out the door, probably guiding it from the outside. Surely, this man wasn't this stupid. "A kiss, yes?" Roscoe wanted to throw up already, but he'd signed up for this. Biting back the urge to audibly gag, he leaned in, and placed one on the mans cheek - his skin was salty, more than Ros would enjoy. "You're being coy. Well, nothing new. So, what's so important that you came here?" "The magistrate. They know." Abaddon laughed. Hard. Deep. "That's all? I'll say it one more time, don't waste my time, Lilya. Out with it. You're already wearing on my nerves. Make it worth my while, or I'll dispose of you like I should have already." One of his hands was on Ros' leg, wandered up his thigh and stroked it, uncomfortably. Disgusting. What a freak. No wonder Lilya had left. "They know that you had someone steal the artifact. But they don't know where she went. They just know it's you. Someone told them. They're going to come for you. You should run." Abaddon snorted, amused. "Oh, sweet girl, you're naive and closeminded if you think I won't be able to defend myself. Is that really all you came here for? Then you might as well be more stupid than you look.", he chided Ros, but he knew that this was the best chance he had at getting so close to Abaddon. "But how would you ...?" "It's simple. I had someone steal something valuable for a client of mine, and in exchange, I got something else that those idiots from the magistrate won't see coming. Just like you. And now that you know, I fear I won't be able to let you go anymore. Too bad." Ros hated this stupid fucker with every second that passed and the last straw was when he leaned in for a kiss and moved his hand further up beneath his dress - in vain, he tried to conjure an icicle which to stab Abaddon with, something that hadn't gone unnoticed, even though it had mainly been a bluff.

The next thing Ros felt, however, was a sharp surge of pain in the left side of his chest, followed by an uncomfortable, sticky hot warmth - he looked down to find a blade buried deep in his chest, blinked at it in confusion, and then back at Abaddon. "You stupid bitches never learn. What did you think was going to happen?" Visible confusion arose in Ros' face, and he started stammering. "Oh, Lilya, you were never the brightest of them, but this really is a new low for you. You come back here, expect me to care for you, feed you, when there's nothing I could use you for? And as a thanks, you try to stab me. You're pitiable, but don't worry, I'll put you out of your misery." With that, Abaddon grabbed the knife and before Ros could even think of moving, thrust it back into his chest, twisting it. This hurt, horribly, and when he was shoved to the floor, it hurt even more. "Don't take it personally. It'll be over soon, and you'll be able to reflect on it in the afterlife. Maybe, if you gain any sense between then and now, I'll welcome you back in my arms. It wasn't always so bad." Abaddon chuckled, then kicked Ros, who wheezed at the sudden impact - afterward, he turned heel to walk to the door. Before he could, he checked his pockets, haphazardly, as if he were looking for something, and a shit-eating grin soon spread on Ros’ face. “Looking for something, boss? Your little artifact?” “You fucking-!” Before Abaddon could get ahold of his emotions, he stormed over to where “Lilya” lay on the floor, the blood seeping from her chest, he tumbled down himself and had a knife in his leg and a hand over his mouth, forcing a piece of fabric into it. “Mh!”, he was trying to yell, yet the doors and the gag were enough to drown that apathetic sound out. As Ros finished gagging him with ease, he came to close - Abaddon was disgusting, but the scent of fresh blood from his body made his hunger worse. Before he knew it, the knife was out his leg and he was licking the blood off of it like a starving vampire would - Abaddon stared at him in disbelief, trying to use the opportunity to wrest himself free, but even with blood trickling out of his chest - something that needed energy to heal that Ros didn’t have - he overpowered the other man. “Wrong side.”, he remarked, pointing to his chest as he tore parts of the dress to ribbons to tie Abaddon up with wholly. It wasn’t the wrong side, really, but Ijiraqi were not knowing for being quite true to human anatomy. Instead, they were often called flipped beings, and for Ros, that just meant his innards were the wrong side around. His heart worked, even though he often alleged he didn’t have one. “You’re disgusting. Be glad I have need of you.”

Abaddon had more tricks up his sleeves than that, Ros was sure, given the man struggled currently - but he held Lilyas little present to his head instead, as he removed the gag from Abaddon. “Now, if you don’t want a bullet in your head, you better start talking. What does this thing do and where is Nathan?” Abaddon snorted dryly. “And I would tell you that because?” “Not afraid to die, then?” There was a long pause, inbetween which Abaddon seemed to consider his options. “Not of you, missy. You’re bleeding out, how long do you have left?” “Alright.” Ros couldn’t fire the gun without causing ruckus, he knew as much, so he brought the blade back up to Abaddons shoulder and drove it deep into it, gagging him while he did. He panted as his eyes darted around and Ros, hungry as ever, bit back his instincts as the stench of blood permeated the air. Hungry. So so so so hungry. His stomach churned. Then, he removed Abaddons gag again. “Start talking. Now.” “Why do this? You could join me instead. You’re … clearly capable. Why care for him? Come on, I can pay you and feed you more than the magistrate ever would. You could be free, with me. Hah … think about it! A life in luxury, without rules … ngh, by my side.” Roscoe spat in his face. Abaddon looked back at him in bewilderment. “Where’s Nathan and what does this thing do?”

Abaddon clearly didn't want to divulge any information, not about any artifact in his posession, nor Nathan who'd be able to get him loads more once he cooperated. Sure his plan hadn't been thought out completely, mage without power couldn't open that damn door for him and Shiva was gone, so she couldn't do it either. In essence the threat of traps was always present too, because for that doorway to appear they had to stop using the artifact for at least a short period of time. At first Abaddon wasn't even sure it did anything, it didn't effect him, nor did it effect his werewolves visbily. When they couldn't turn he thought they were joking, he had to try it on some other beings too. He had some ferries employed and they dropped like flies, being fatigued long after as well and it got Shiva into Nathans highly guarded vault, but even she didn't come back unharmed. For now Abaddon looked at Lilyas face and conjured up a lie that doubled up as a distraction. He didn't know why anyone cared about Nathan, maybe to get ahold of his stuff as well, but he seemed in high demand at the moment. "I told my men to dispose of him, you better hurry if you want to get to him in time. I left him a few doors down."

Nathan wasn't being disposed of, but that didn't mean he felt terrible. The magic sucned out of him, he felt as old as he waa for once and he didn't have any ideas on how to get out of here either. "Cooperate, don't slip away, but being able to cast magic...", the snake spoke. He had some round glasses and was tall and thin. His movements were that of a snake too. "I wonder how fast a mage can regenerate their magic. Either way, we need something in placd, your kind is as slippery as an eel." Nathan could only hope this thing was disabled and he'd be able to get away immedietly. For now he stayed silent though, there was no way he could talk his way out lf this situation. Writing down instructions that would conjure a trap room? They already anticipated that he'd lie and they'd probably throw him or someone innocent in any room first. Sait came closer and flicked the hood off Nathans head. He didn't look up still. In the end he didn't habe to cooperate and a spell influencing him wouldn't work now. He assumed any potion with magical components wouldn't either. They'd have to make him change his mind and even though Nathan didn't like seeing innocents die, the contents of his vault were too dangerous, especially for someone like Abaddon. "I wish I had some poison to make you do my bidding, but for now it'll do." What a snake. Said snake didn't wait long and didn't explain more for now, maybe because Nathan remaind boringly unresponsive. His teeth sank into his neck and a burning sensation flooded Nathans veins. He flinched. Once the snake pulled back, the sensation didn't go away, but it wasn't unbearable. "It'll take about an hour to take full effect. I'll be back later and you two stay here, don't let him out of sight and keep that artifact working and close." With that the snake already turned to leave and Nathan was left wondering what the poison did.

Disgusting - which one of them? Ros’ hunger grew, it was much more than he could anticipate at this point, but he knew it was the bloods fault. It dripped from his chest, rivulets stained his clothes and it hurt, it thrummed deep and hot, pulsing so much he thought his heart was the right way around. Hunger crept up in his stomach and his awfully pale face grew even paler - the promise of fresh meat, even when he was feeling awfully sluggish, was killing him, especially when he knew that nothing could compare in the first place. And why would it? Abaddon had never looked better in anyones eyes, probably - he looked like prey, like food, like a delightful meal, but Ros knew he still needed this guy alive. Sufficiently pissed off by his food talking, he put the gag back on and wrested Abaddon out of his clothing, who looked at him bewildered. Only then did he stab his other leg. “You’d not dispose of something you need. I think you’re even dumber than should be allowed.”, ‘Lilya’ complained and Ros, who knew getting information out of this man was impossible, kicked him in the stomach as he got up. Then, for good measurement, punched him in the face. Once. Twice. Thankfully, he went limp thereafter. With Abaddon passed out, he dragged the man to one of the supply closets included into the rooms walls, threw him in, and locked him inside. There was now a single problem - Roscoe had no idea if his transformation worked and if so, how it would.

Regardless of the fact, he had to wipe his mouth first - he was starting to salivate because of the smell, and it clung to him, too. Well, with Abaddon temporarily disposed of, and that stupid artifact in his possession, he could probably figure it out - somehow. The only problem was that there were probably more than these. Ros, not knowledgeable in these things in the first place, was glad he’d taken a passing interest in them at some point, when they’d been together for a while and Nate finally felt like he could trust him enough to show him his prized possessions. This one wasn’t wholly different, hopefully. It didn’t take too much for him to figure it out, even in his frenzied state of hunger and the actual threat of Abaddon being right about his charge - someone he loathed to call that, yet he’d rather be attached than feel like ever eating him - that made him nervous. Thankfully for him, shapeshifting wasn’t much of an issue at all and he looked like Abaddon in no time. Ros slipped into his clothes, then tossed Lilya’s in with him, after he’d ripped it up enough to bandage his chest for the time being. The other stains were unfortunate, but lying wasn’t so hard - not when he was in the search of prey. Adjusting his posture, Roscoe left the room. “Lock it. Keep your eye on the door and whatever you do, don’t go in. I’ll take care of this vindictive bitch later, if she’s still alive.”, he told the two guards who seemingly didn’t bat an eye - he walked off, in the direction Abaddon had kind of told him to. Just as he was about to, he saw a slithery fellow exit the room - this might be it, then? “I need your help.”, Ros informed the snake, who was quite eager to listen to his boss - or whomever he perceived to be him. “Ah? The intruder is already being taken care of. Unfortunately he’s as uncooperative as you can imagine. It’ll be an hour. I apologize.” He bowed his head ever so slightly. “It’s alright. You still have to help me with something. It’s urgent. Come here.” The snake was dumb enough to follow him, yet not dumb enough to ignore the cuts in Abaddon’s suit. “What happened? Do you need help?” “Just a dumb bitch thinking she can do whatever she wants.”, he answered truthfully, then opened the door to a different, empty room and let the snake in first. Roscoe used the blunt side of the gun he’d gotten from Lilya to knock that guy out, too, with a stab in his stupid snake legs to make it harder for him to get anywhere if he woke up sooner than anticipated. Still, in case he needed it, he took some tinctures he’d found on the man - he didn’t know if they were potions or poisons, but he’d find out. Door locked behind him - the key was thankfully on Abaddons suit - he finally made his way over to where they’d put Nathan. By now, he felt as if he’d grow ravenous and eat anyone he’d encounter - the scent of blood, of the hunt, of trickery and a fear-filled meal was already permeating in his head.

Bloodstains on his suit didn’t matter when he approached the door the snake had some out of - and opened it ever so slightly. The atmosphere inside was sickening. “I need one of you. It’s urgent.”, he told the two guards, only his hand sticking into the room - one of them obliged, and soon seemed alarmed by the state his ‘boss’ was in. Ros dispatched of the creature, wiping away even more saliva before ridding himself of the body of the guard, his suit now ever so slightly more torn up. At least it gave him something useful for the next one. As he re-entered the room, in which he indeed had found Nathan, the other guard looked at him in perturbed confusion. Why was his boss so bloody and where did his coworker go? What a thought. Ros, this time around, pointed the gun at the guard who, struck with the realization he was being tricked, was about to start revolting. “I’d not do that if I were you.”, he hissed, his breathing ragged and his posture disheveled. Pain and hunger mixed his senses into a flurry of stalwart emotions that he couldn’t control - ijiraqi were vindictive beings, driven by their instincts and denying oneself that was akin to dying. He didn’t care - it probably was why he used the gun to get closer to the guard and then rammed the knife into his throat, impeded by a choked cry as he twisted it. The guard fell to the floor and gurgled, grabbing at his throat to gasp for air - and Roscoe gave him another gift to go with that, a knife in his cranium. Killing people was ever so easy. As he pulled it back out, the guard now sufficiently limp, it broke off, and Ros sighed. This thing wasn’t even a proper, good knife, huh? What a joke. Perturbed by what was going on, he looked for the artifact in this room and deactivated it, then pocketed it as well. His gaze fell onto Nate, who had probably caught on - and onto that snakebite. Ros was hungry … but that was just awful and cruel to his hunger. Was he salivating again? “Can you … hah …. get up? Does … it hurt? Anywhere?”

Nathan felt his body stiffen as the burning sensation crawled trough his body. There was even less he could do now than before he'd been poisoned on top of everything. It would take a while and yet his toes and fingertips felt weak already. He didn't have much hope in that moment, but he looked up curiously when one of the guards was beckoned out. When Abaddon came back in and Nathan weakly lifted his head, he already knew that something was amiss. He looked very disheveled and not only that, he looked unlike himself. Also, why would he kill his own guard? "Ros...?", Nathan asked as the guard died. He knew that gaze, that way he breathed and all that. His instincts immediately told him to help Ros, despite his own state. He'd probably hat if he ate one of these people here and they had to get out still, but Nathan didn't even want to suggest it. Aside from that his heart jumped realizing that he got out of here after all. He'd have to endure Ros' complaints, but that was okay.

Finally he remembered to actually do something. The artifact was turned off, but that didn't mean he felt any better for now. "My stuff... There...", he pointed to the table where they tossed his things. He brought some anti venom just in case and even if magic doesn't work, they should, there was no magic components in there. "Yellow vial..." Once Ros handed it over, Nathan unplugged to cork and downed the liquid inside and through the empty glass container to the side. The burning sensation subsided and he closed and opened a fist. Yes better. Now to get up, hopefully without Ros' help, not because he was too prideful, but because he knew being too close to him now was dangerous. He fought himself on his feet, only to almost fall again, grabbing the bed post that held up some fancy fabric. "Sorry... I... That thing..." It didn't matter right now. "I'll manage... Maybe not very fast though. What's the plan...?", he panted. He'd keep up somehow, not that he could help much in his current state. Most of his potions were useless too probably, all he had left were some form of smoke bombs. Humans had funny ideas, they were colorful too.

Ragged breathing, peppered with labored wheezing were working in tandem with one another as the threat of passing out was drawing closer. What came first - falling victim to his instincts or to his injury? Ros didn’t know, he just knew that his body ached, burned as if he were being boiled alive and his hands felt cold. Freezing. The inside of his eyeballs itched, terribly. They were the wrong way around. They hurt. He wanted to claw them out. No. “Hm?”, Ros asked, as his name was being questioned, then nodded, as if to reassure Nate he was still the same old guy as always - just in someone elses skin. That, per se, wasn’t even the problem. Instead, there was something else that he had to deal with, which wasn’t a mystery to him or his former partner. Vial. Right. Bag. He grabbed it with shaky hands and handed it over to Nathan, who was fairly adept at taking care of himself even in this state, at least until he struggled to get out of that torture device akin to a bed. Ros, meanwhile, undid the tie on Abaddon’s suit. It felt too tight, as if it where going to tie his throat close and rob him of all air. Naturally, he knew why, and Nathan had sniffed it out, too, but he didn’t say a word, not at first anyway - one look at the possibly dead guard was enough to make him drool again and wipe it away with the suit’s sleeve.

“Leave soon … I …” Roscoe knew he wasn’t the man for this stuff, so he grabbed Nathans wrist, maybe a bit too forcefully and motioned for him to open his hand, then he put both of the artifacts that he’d managed to get ahold of in his palm and - as gently as possible - closed Nate’s hand around them. “Keep them. The … hah … magistrate can take care of the rest … hah … they already know.” Then, afterward, he took a step back and slapped his own face. Being close to Nathan was fine, better than being close to that corpse for sure. Was he supposed to spell all of this out for him? No, Ros just reached for the door. They could probably walk out of here, no issue, as long as they avoided too much attention. “Abaddon is … not gonna be … a problem at least. Ugh.” Did he want to eat or throw up? Ros wasn’t so sure at that very moment, but what he was sure of was the fact that he could just punch himself in the gut and be done and over with it, but instead, he slapped his face and turned around to look at Nathan. “I don’t think I’ve ever said it … but … you’re right.”, he expressed all of a sudden, with no reasoning in particular. Nathan would be able to tell what he meant by that. “Let’s just … get out of here. I need …” Ros didn’t finish that sentence, but it was obvious, too. “Unless you want to … hah … stall til the magistrate shows up?”

Ros grabbed Nathans wrist and he looked up to him, then down again at the two artifacts, then up again. He was confused, Ros just gave them to him? Maybe he agreed that the magistrate should'nt get this, at least not now, but... "Two of them...?", he wondered aloud, but this could wait. He put them in his coats pocket and nodded at Ros. Right now they didn't emit whatever it was they did, so he was fine holding onto them for now. Still he felt drained and even though the air didn't feel as heavy anymore, there was no way he could cast anything right now, not that it would help much in this situation. Ros meanwhile struggled with himself and Nathan looked at the corpse on the floor. He'd never get used to this, all this blood and gore, he had his fair share of fights so to speak, but he was the kind of person who got what he wanted and then simply ran. Only now he noticed that Ros wasn't just covered in his own blood. "You're hurt!" He pointed out, Nathan never saw Ros bleed before, never.

"Is he dead...?", he wondered about Abaddon, not that it mattered right now. Ros wasn't looking good, not at all. Nathan knew his hunger, but he didn't know what it meant when he was injured too. His kimd was elusive, there weren't many books about them that weren't just myth and clearly they never showed weakness. There was a time Nathan thought nobody could hurt Ros, not in a physical sense anyway. Nathan averted his gaze, he didn't want to be right in this case, but it was clear Ros hunger grew out of control. "Food.", Nathan completed Ros' sentence. "I'll get you home. I doubt you want your coworkers seeing you like this and... Frankly I rather don't be implied. Also these..." Nathan patted the pocket the artifacts were in. "... Let's figure them out for ourselves first, then we will hand them over... If you still want that." If they were questioned here, they'd find them. Maybe Nathan could hide them without magic, he knew some of the humans magic tricks, but he'd rather not find out. "I'm... Not sure if I can teleport us home though, once we're on the street..." His magic regenerated very slowly and although this spell was connected to an enchanted item, he'd still need some magic to cast the activation and to get through Ros' very lash security. "We'll figure it out... Come on... And... You'll get a proper thanks at home. Promise." Nathan wasn't rude all the time. He knew this was all on him and without Ros... But there was no time now. Nathan went to open the door slowly to peek out. The hallway was clear at least.

“There … was one here. And Abaddon had … hah … one too.”, Ros explained away, leaning onto the wall next to the door to catch his breath for a bit before they left. Right now, right here, it was important to push through, when he was bleary-eyed and beads of sweat dotted his forehead like an ill-begotten rosary, draped over his less than holy cranium. It pounded - the hunger wanted to be let in, or maybe even out. The last time he’d gotten hurt was as a wee creature, with rosy cheeks and childish ambitions of conquering the shadows that encompassed his lands; he’d wanted to be friends with his prey, yearned to grasp at the straws of comfort human children would lend him through their selfless acts of love, and yet, their parents had shooed him back whence he came from. Roscoes blood ran cold as the mental image haunted him, a moment frozen in time, brought about by a camera shutter being pulled the moment those eyelids fluttered shut for a second too long. Nate called him back and he chuckled, as exhausted as ever. “He had a stupid knife … thought he was doing himself a favor by getting rid … of her … but. Wrong side.”, he told Nathan, unsure if he even understood what that meant.

“No … hah. Should’ve … killed him for … having me kiss him and … eugh … he’s disgusting.” Not something Nate probably wasn’t aware of. All the better they could waltz out of here soon enough; Abaddon would be taken into custody, Ros was going to make sure of that and if he weren’t, he’d fine him - or someone else would. Marked prey wasn’t going to escape anyones grasp, especially not his ever-hungering kind. “Mhm.”, Ros agreed with Nathan almost too swiftly as they got ever so closer to moving out of here. “Good … hah … call. We’ll figure all of this … out at home. I want to … shower.”, the ijiraq expressed, following closely behind Nathan - they didn’t have a lot of things to protect themselves with, yet, if need be, they had two artifacts they could use and, at worst, they could sacrifice one of them if need be. The thought was revolting, yet, Roscoe stalked after Nate, then pointed into a direction. That looked like a marked fire exit staircase, if this building had a thing such as this. “Is … that real?”, he dared to ask.

Two of them? What if there were more? This wasn't good, this thing seemed way too powerful, but maybe Nathan was biased because it hit him especially hard. There was no time to think about it now though, Ros was hurt badly and Nathan felt like he could sleep for a week once he lay down. "Can you... Maybe close that wound with some ice? For now?", he wondered, worried about his friend. He seemed more bothered by his hunger, bit losing blood couldn't be helpful. Nathan went on ahead, holding on to the walls, he already felt like having ran a marathon, but they both needed to be strong."A shower sounds good..." Ros went through more for him then he ever needed to. How was Nathan going to repay him? He looked up when Ros pointed in a direction, a fire exit. "They have to uphold rules too, come on.", he nodded and opened the heavy door that led into a narrow empty hallway. Nobody was awarw the situation wasn't under control anymore, so nobody was stationed here. Nathan hurried through, looking back every now and then to see if Ros was still there.

His current form was useful now, in case someone stopped them, but on the other hand there would probably arise more questions than answers. Nathan opened the next door, a waff of fresh air blowing in his face. He looked back once more. "Ros... Can you transform into something smaller? I can carry you... With how you look... We probably draw attention.", he suggested holding open the door for him. It lead to an allyway, but at this rate they needed to find a taxi or something and nobody would let him in like that. Besides, Nathan wasn't sure how mich further he could go and how tasty every stranger would look to him. Maybe it was better if he could take his mind off anything else, including walking.

He hurried after Nate as beat he could - for now, his body was at least cooperating, but anything after that would probably become a hurdle. How long until his mind failed him? Ros grit his teeth and wondered if he’d even make it to the shower. “Can’t. I would’ve … hah … if I could’ve …”, he replied and shook his head. His magic was already feeble to begin with, but his encounter with Abaddon had sucked it all up and now, he was too tired to even exert the smallest amount of strength to pull it out of his fingertips at that moment, knowing it most likely wouldn’t amount to much of a help in the first place. There was something so sinister about that artifact, he wanted nothing more for it to explode into thousands of pieces, but there were more important matters to attend to - he wanted food, badly, and his chest wound wanted to close up, soon. No wonder his transformation felt like it would come undone soon enough, torn apart at the seams by the inability to sustain himself with enough power to keep the cogs in this machine running. “Yes … and then … some rest …” He didn’t want to know what the rest of today held in store, even if the sounds in his head were quite shrill and yelling at him like no other. Roscoe wanted to be at peace for once.

As they hurried down the stairs, his wound was whispering, aching with every step, squeezing and pulling taut as he descended the stairs one after the other in what felt like endless monotony. Ros wanted nothing more than to escape his place, then see it burst into flames but that wasn’t something he could simply wish for, or hope that it would occur, or no. That would take effort. As the being at the back of his mind pulled him back to reality - he was still hungry, still drooling - even Nate spoke up. They’d reached the bottom of the stairwell and the door opened without any problems it seemed. Right now, he felt on the verge of passing out, but he could pull through, were it not for Nate’s request. Being seen like this might actually be a bad thing, that was true. Ros heaved. Was he breathing or was that his wound? Who knew. “I … can try. But don’t expect anything … I’m spent …” And too hungry to use up more energy. Stupid fucking knife. Ros took ahold of Lilya’s gun, handed it to Nate and leaned in - slightly onto him - he’d never smelled better than this, and yet, with the fresh air and the differing parts of this city, his brain was confused. Before Nate could keel over, at least, Ros - in Abaddons form - disappeared into nothingness. In his place, there was a canary on Nathan’s shoulder instead, yellow chest feathers stained with blood. That was small enough, hopefully.

Nathan was worried beyond anything he ever felt. He had had his adventures and Ros had had to save him from stupid situations before, but this was different. What was he thinking running into the lions den all on his own like this, knowing something that disabled all his seals sat right in there as well. He'd been petty if he was honest, he wanted to show Ros he didn't need him more than he wanted to solve this current problem. Nathan felt at fault for Ros' condition no matter if he refused to eat for a while. It was admirable if anything, fighting his violent nature like this and even now, beat and hurt and amongst people who didn't care about others themselves, he let all of them live. "And some food... You have something at home, right?", Nathan asked. At this point he wasn't sure if he could prolong his hunger any longer and Nathan had no idea if Ros' kind had any self healing abilities at all either. Even with his magic not impaired, he wasn't a healer, much as he couldn't do anything for Shiva either.

Nathan still waited at the door and was surprised to be handed a gun. He never held any before, but just quickly shoved it into his pocket as well. The heavy demon form leaned onto him and Nathan leaned against the wall. Then in na instant Abaddon was gone and the weight as well. A little bird sat on his shoulder and Abaddons clothes were scattered on the floor. Nathan didn't lose any more time and hurried outside. The alleyway was empty still and it lead to a bigger street. The mage quickly merged with the crowd, pulling his hood further into his face. He also softly grabbed Ros of his shoulder, to gently hold him in his hand, shielding him with the other. He didn't want anyone run into him or his little bird feet get to weak to hold on. Around the next corner Nathan quickly called a cab over directing him to Ros home.

Once they finally got out Nathan paid, then hurried to the entrance of Ros home. With his clothes long lost Ros had no keys and Nathan didn't have any either anymore. "Sorry Ros...", he whispered to him and got together all magic he could muster to teleport through the heavy door. On the other side the landing was anything but graceful. He fell on the floor, making sure to not fall on top of the little bird. This whole teleport knocked the windbout of him and Nathan needed to catch his breath, didn't give himself a lot of time though. He fought himself back on his feet, heading to the bathroom. Some warm water would help melting that cold heart for the moment, helping Ros to concentrate and maybe to transform back, but Nathan was never sure if that had ever been Ros true form. For now he turned on the hot water, then looked down at his friend in his hand. "Ros, are you alright?", he asked worried.

Food. Right. Ros chirped in retaliation to the question of if he was in the possession of food at home, which he definitely was. Not that he didn't anticipate this to happen sometime soon, but he simply knew that these things were going to happen eventually, when his need for meat and the pangs in his hungering heart became too much. Right now, he would be happy to simply eat anything, he figured, but non of that was full of nourishment for him - he could only deny and delude himself for so long and right now, he'd hit a stopping point, one that he didn't like to step over if he didn't have to, for that matter. Alas, the only other option would be to go back in and actually eat that cooling corpse of that guard, but he didn't want to waste more time than necessary, nor did he really want to make Nathan wait and risk any of the people he'd knocked out and locked up to actually come for them. There were many things he'd rather not engage with, currently, and Nate's hand was warm enough to actually relax in - it already felt better than having to carry his corpus places where it would inevitably shamble and then fail him. Things hurt, all the time, but like this? He could get used to it again, especially when thinking bigger thoughts felt like a chore that would wrack his brain.

Somehow, some way, he managed to hold onto that shred of consciousness that inevitably escaped him every once when his thoughts drifted off. Maybe that was why he didn't even notice the quick teleport at first, but when Nathan audibly fell and shook him around, he made a perturbed and confused chirp, almost a ruckus so to speak. Then, not long after, everything moved again. His bathroom was familiar to him, and so was the sink he had been placed in, and then ... did Nate just dip him in warm water? Despicable. And that hurt, too. Offended, yet too weak to actually move much, he flapped his wings with a bit of effort in protest. What was he even to say about that? He couldn't know, let alone could he form much of a usable thought at that very moment. Alas, he wracked his brain about the wrong things and he was going to pay for it it seemed. Whether he was alright or not wasn't of much concern, no, he let himself rest for a bit before he figured he'd be good enough to actually crawl out of there. But how? In a human form? Ros had many an idea what he could look like, but he knew how this was going to end. The soul took the shape of that which was perceived as true, and Ros already knew where that led - he could circumvent it, but only in one direction, and he'd hate for Nate to actually see that. And yet, his hunger begged him to get out of here and actually feed himself. Should he tell Nathan he didn't want to hear it when it inevitably happened?

Normally, a transformation was almost seamless for Ros - he was experienced enough to not go through the seven stages of grief while picking apart what he looked like, but the leap out of the sink, compared with the injury and the fact he was weak enough that transforming was taking a big toll on him were all factors that that contributed to his body sinking into the shadows around them at first, much like any ijiraq would. Fine dust settled, left Nathan alone for a heartbeat's length as the bird had disappeared and then, a formless claw, belonging to something much bigger than this apartment could bear, crawled back out of it, only to size it self down into something much more human. What kneeled there, on the floor in the end, was Ros in the way Nathan knew him from their first few meetings way back when - a young face, eyes brimming with the innocence of a doe, fingers that ended in black tips and sharp claws, scarring on the corners of his mouth almost all the way up to the ears and long hair that, even if he were standing up, was enough to cover most of Ros. Unlike the new Ros, this appearance was full of holes and less about looking like he was trustworthy - there was many a scar on his body, be that from humans or other magical beings that he'd had too much of a stint with. All completed by that gaping wound on his chest, but Ros didn't even say anything; not that he would have. He had no clothes to speak of, which wasn't the embarrassing thing, but a nagging feeling of hunger that made it hard to even think about anything too human, like speaking his thoughts. Without waiting for anything, he took off, on all fours, much faster than he'd run if he was human, probably, and almost crashed into his fridge. Regaining his bearings, he helped himself up by the handles and tore the door to the freezer almost off its hinges, throwing out all and anything that looked like vegetables. Then, he found a bag of meat, and another. Not nearly enough - but why be picky now? He tore through the plastic with relenting ease and didn't even wait for it to thaw - opened his mouth wide, the membrane that kept it together immediately showing as he unhinged it. This form had been his for a while, it was easy to fool people with it but convenient for eating, and hunting, yet he'd discarded it for a more proper appearance. Never had he been happier that this was still, wholly, his. With one piece of frozen meat swallowed, Ros chucked the still packaged one in the sink, turned on the water as hot as possible - he wanted something proper - and let it thaw, hopefully as quickly as possible, as he bit into another frozen chunk. This would probably go on for a while.

If Nathan had any magic left maybe he could have peeked into Ros' thoughts to get answers to his questions. Now he only got some chirping and the fact that Ros sat there after in the hot water for a bit. Omce he climbed out Nathan looked at him, about to offer to search for some meat in this place but just like that, Ros vanished. Nathans heart sank to his stomach while his eyes darted around the room and them a shadowy claw reached out of the shadows. Nathan jumped back a bit, staring at the dark spot that slowly revealed a more human form, even if not quite and defiently not Ros himself. Nathan stepped back again and the creature ran past him, out the bathroom and into the kitchen. Nathan sighed somewhat relieved and sank to his knees. He was exhausted. Beyond exhausted actually. He was thinking of following Ros, but he figured he might not want to be seen like this or tempted to bite Nathans head of after all. He gave himself another moment before he got back up.

Shaky knees he turned off the hot water, then left the bathroom. He stopped near the kitchen, but didn't go in. He heard some squelching and some rustling of a pot, so he assumed Ros was fine for now. Carefully he raised his voice from outside, still not coming in. "Should I call someone? A healer maybe...?", he asked. Once Ros had eaten he'd be fine to see other people. Nathan only now remembered the things in his pocket. He got the gun out and put it carefully on a shelve. He also looked at the artifacts in his hands, but he was too tired to think about them now. He put them back in his pocket for now. Unsure of what to do next he waited for a response. He felt a bit intruding in here, but where else was he supposed to go right now?

With that aching spot of exposed meat in his chest, Ros felt almost like he could devour an entire mountain of food and it wouldn't be enough. Every breath made him his, and every single time he chewed too hard on that frozen puck, it actually felt worse with every movement he made, all the time. Was that thing just tearing more and more? Ros wanted ... no, he needed more food, soon. Turning the water in the sink of, he stuck his fingers into the hot water and hissed at those cold, frozen excuses of fingertips hurting like a thousand suns. The slightly deformed, warmed up plastic was discarded on the floor and the partially thawed flesh felt like a delicacy he'd been deprived off for too long, too hard - this was never good, and he knew it. His conscious mind would be able to tell him as much, but Ros had turned it off as he bit and chewed and tore and pulled and ate. This was his, ripe for the taking, and human language was a sacrifice he'd never not give up for that, if only temporary. Nate knew him, knew how ravenous his hunger was and could be if there was any way for him to even escape it. Why run from it? Ros knew why, and how, but he was also fairly aware that he should. Keeping his distance was important.

As Nathan finally caught up to him, he'd devoured much of the corpus already, his fingers stained a rusty red with sweet, gooey, crimson goodness. Ros, ravenous now and evermore, actually had dug even the oldest package out of the back of his freezer that he could find, and was currently seeing to putting it into his stomach, if only in its unthawed state. It would stink the whole place up. With Nate at the door, and the beast's thirst hardly quenched, he peeked out of the kitchen, his entire face caked in partially still frozen blood and other meat juices - to say it was sufficiently red would, perhaps, still be an understatement. "It'll heal ... on it's ... own.", he told Nathan, then reached his fingers out to him and grabbed him, not gingerly enough to actually not be forceful, but Ros was being as gentle as can be here. He had his fill, and he leaned in to smell Nathan, without saying a word. "You're not ... food. Don't ... be shy ...", he beckoned Nate forth and put his partially stained fingers in the other mans pale face without asking. Clearly, they both were tired. And actually, that gave Roscoe an idea. "Wash up ... then sleep? You need rest ... my couch is free?", he offered, uncharacteristically soft of him, knowing that he wouldn't eat Nate. In fact, he'd simply dress him in his clothes and circumvent any kind of smell that would entice him. "I won't eat you ... hah ... pinky promise."

It's been a very long time since Nathan saw Ros in this form that seemed to be easier to maintain for him than any other. No hiding his scars or much of his nature. He knew much less of their society than Nathan but quickly clung to the notion of wanting to be normal. Sure, some might have thought him frightening with the black claws and the mouth that looked like he could stuff a human in it whole, without dismembering it first, but Nathan never judged him for it. In a way he maybe preferred Ros to be truer to himself, not hurt or hungry, but not hiding as well. It was easy for Nathan to say however, he easily passed as a human even and somehow their appearance was the most sought after. Vampires, werewolves, mermaids, demons, shapeshifters, they all tried their best to look like them and mages like Nathan were born this way, some even from human parents. Nathan didn't have a problem with his human appearance, but he also didn't try to fit in like the others, just by dressing himself differently. Even the humans were more accepting nowadays though.

He looked at Ros' face that was full of blood and right now he didn't mind, but Nathan knew soon enough he would, once his hunger was stilled and his instincts stopped to overpower him. It always hurt him to eat others and even though he often acted like he stood above anyone else, Nathan was unfair to call him out for his eating habits. It wasn't comparable to Nathan forgetting to eat or seldomly being hungry, just because his brain was occupied with other things, while Ros' couldn't just eat an apple or even a cow to sufficiently quench his hunger. Right now was the wrong time to apologize though and Ros was, frankly, not himself when he yanked Nathan closer. He tried to be soft, Nathan knew that, but even that notion felt out of place. He leaned in closer, close to the dried blood on his neck that couldn't be much, but Ros could probably smell a bleeding person from miles away at this point. It had happened that Ros got hungry and refused to eat and that Nathan lay under him in bed, with Ros forgetting to swallow as his hunger rose, but he never hurt him. Instead he often seemed to have misunderstood, maybe deliberately, his hunger for lust at times and Nathan thought that if it kept his mind occupied, why not? Now however they weren't a couple anymore and as he grew older and was ways apart from those situations, he questioned those occasions in general. The clawed fingers reached for Nathans face that was painted with blood of Ros food and possibly his own or even Abaddons. Bein caked in someone elses blood was also not exactly in either of their interests if Ros was still hungry. In a way Nathan wanted to tell Ros off, wanted to tell him that this was inappropriate, no matter the circumstances, but he found himself tongue tied. It wasn't fear, it was something else, as if he was sent back in time and watching their younger selves from a distance. It didn't feel good, but Nathan knew better than to blame Ros for it. When he was offered the couch he finally took a step back and nodded. "I know.", he told him and turned around to get back to the bathroom. "I'll use your stuff then." The more he smelled known to Ros and the less he smelled like anyone else the better. Nathans own smell seemed to work for Ros as well, but right now? It was probably better Nathan disappeared for his nose. He locked the bathroom door behind him, then hung his coat on the door. The rest of his clothes landed on the floor. A hot shower felt good and he hurried scrubbing the blood off his face before it dried, then hurried still to cover himself in Ros' shampoo. Only then did he give himself a moment. He needed to sit for a moment, the hot water still pouring down on him. The range of emotions he felt the past couple hours was immense and confusing and all this time they had bigger things to worry about. Not that he thought Ros would be bothered once he was feeling better. Just... finish showering, dress in a towel for now, borrow some of Ros clothes and he was probably sufficiently tired to just crash on that couch immediately. Ros wouldn't eat him, even though it was only less reassuring that he had to point that out.