;;not so N.U.M.B.

[<Fallen>:.]

You don't remember my name.
I don't really care.

The wind from over the open cemetery was chilled; unnaturally so, even for this part of Miami. the gentle breeze snickered as it ran, dancing between the head-stones and stealing petals from the flowers. It was like a young child let out of school early; free from rules and responsibilities. What a sweet, sweet feeling.
The sky of brilliant azure seemed to be missing out on the fun; its usually clear surface showed a less-than-perfect hue today, tinging with the clouds on the horizon. It should have been warm... But the chill wind and cloudy skies ended that deception. The head-stones, though well kept, still had a macabre, Gothic quality to them. All in all, a perfect place for Laura to call her own.

Touching a single pale finger to the stones, a light smile touched the girl's features as she considered her surroundings. The cold was a generous blessing, a release from usually scorching heat, and she was grateful. But the smile held no warmth in it today. Today, there was nothing of Liam's prescience beside her to lighten her mood, so the dark-haired girl had allowed herself to sink back into her familiar, shadowy depths.
The cemetery was her favourite place for such occasions. It wasn't that she laughed at the misfortune of those in the children's cemetery, or smirked at the departures of the elderly; nay, at times such as these she felt their loss as keenly as if it had been her own. But there was something that her darker side revelled in, something that was sucked out of her when she was in this mood, around 'real' people.

Laura Leithwaite had been confirmed to have bipolar disorder when she was in primary school. There had been no trauma from her parents; they had known for a long time that their daughter wasn't like other children. Lyrica -Laura- had seldom taken any school days seriously enough, had often missed them altogether. But in doing so, she had become a rather good judge of character, and also a little happier with herself. Today was different, though.
The touch of cold stone against her fingers was comforting; not quite as comforting as the feel of the smooth, polished marble against her back, though. Sitting with her back to the hard stone, Lyrica found herself withdrawing her black pad from one pocket.
Her neat, flowing script proclaimed it to be her 'Dark Angel', written in silver curls.

All she felt was numbness... Only physical sensations were of any good to her at this stage. Grey-green eyes, framed by dark, Gothic make-up, black waves, and sitting atop a slender, pale neck, Lyrica began to draw.
First, she slowly pencilled in the outline of the tombstone before her. It happened to be her grandmother's, and one of her favourites. A small, black angel sat hunched atop a cross bearing the words

'Rita Markson, Who Trod This Earth Eighty-Seven Years.
We Will Remember Her.'
♥

With small, neat strokes, she began to shade in the lettering... but they read something different from the dark stone before her. Just some words, meaningless to anyone who cared to read them, and meaningless enough to her. But they would be there, for as long as she cared to keep them.
"So, raven, do you still say nevermore?" she murmured softly, as she perused over the text.
Probably not, she concluded, for the Raven had died with its author, even though the poem lived on in the poetry books of many. And yet it still gave her some degree of comfort, as much as anything can comfort one whose mind is numb, to know that the words were there. And that no=one would ever read them.

Can we play the game your way?
Can I really lose control...?

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[Night Hawk]

"The raven shall never utter the word, so it is said and set by the lord. The raven shall fly in the sky no more, and again shan't utter "Nevermore". Perched in the shadows of a tree, the raven shall watch over thee. Never seen and never heard, so it is said, by the lord." Felix smiled, leaning on the gravestone behind Laura. Yeah, he liked some poetry, The Raven being one of his most favoured pieces. So he did a little thing of his own. He nodded towards Laura's book. "Nice drawing.." He murmured. Laura Leithwaite. Wasn't this the girl that the Government were looking for? Oh, indeed it was. And look here. Felix had found her. He could feel the shape of his sig saucer digging into his hip. The scar on his shoulder burned in protest from the way he was leaning, stretching it. He rubbed it, but otherwise ignored the pain. The wind ruffled his hair, playing around with it, making it dance around in the aind. His golden eyes glanced over his shoulder and then turned back to frown at Laura. "You think it's a good idea for a young lady like yourself to be here? Alone?" His eyes twinkled as he chuckled lowly, letting out a low sigh though his nose. "Damn scar," He growled to himself.

[<Fallen>:.]

I don't need to touch the sky.
I just want to feel that high.

"The raven shall never utter the word, so it is said and set by the lord."
The words, unfamiliar to her as a Sunday in church, fell on attentive ears. Laura couldn't remember hearing this particular verse... But there was always the possibility that she had. Wasn't there? Allowing the strange words to wash over her, a smile played with the black corners of her mouth. A single black wave fell over the pale face, as she tilted an ear towards the voice.
Lyrica had no objections; she didn't care that whoever was speaking had chosen to come to a cemetery, almost certainly without the intention of mourning. Though thoughts of the intentions of such a person crossed her mind. In her current state of mind, today she was unlikely to care about another who had come, and if he recited poetry, so much the better. She could listen to the soft caress of the words as she drew.

It was hard to believe that such a permanent, uncaring numbness could envelop any one person... It was a little unbelievable, if her actions were set down in a story. Any normal person would have expressed curiosity, looked up, done... well, something, surely? But no, Lyrica was content to listen.

"The raven shall fly in the sky no more, and again shan't utter 'Nevermore'. Perched in the shadows of a tree, the raven shall watch over thee. Never seen and never heard, so it is said, by the lord."
The voice appeared to be done. With a little sigh of regret, she made a mental note to look for those lines sometime soon. Perhaps she would find them somewhere.
"Nice drawing..."
At last, the young woman turned her grey-green eyes to the figure who was casting her in shadow. The first thing she noticed was his eyes; dark, golden orbs that reminded her of an amber ring she had once seen. His eyes had the same glittering cast; they seemed to dance between colours. His hair, too, appeared to be a golden colour, matching his eyes as the most vibrant thing in the grey, cloud-covered cemetery. 'So, what would he be doing in a cemetery on a day like today?' she mused, idly perusing the subject. 'Surely someone like him has a pretty little girl to entertain?'

"You think it's a good idea for a young lady like yourself to be here?"
Lyrica smiled, brushing her hair back with the hand that wasn't otherwise occupied with pen and paper. Had he been to the cemetery before? Oh, all right, she would readily admit to not having been before either. It seemed safe enough to her though. Despite the fact it was in the middle of nowhere. Was a place devoted to the dead. Oh, and was probably a favourite haunt for shadowy people of many descriptions. Shadowy people who didn't fit Lyrica's idle, part-time darkness into their category... People with darker things on their mind than considering suicide in their free time.

... Alone?"
The chuckle was enough to distract her thoughts long enough to permit her a twist of the mouth in return... Something that, had it contained any emotion, would have been a friendly smile. Without feeling, it just looked like a wry grin that didn't meet her grey eyes. His concern touched her, though she didn't fully recognise the fact. Perhaps, on some sub-concious level, she found it... chivalrous... of him. That, really, was what drew her to actually respond.

"Who said anything about a good idea, stranger?" she asked. Her tone was intended to lightly his attention to the fact that, to her, he could represent one of the dangers his words alluded to. Though the fact remained that she did not count him in that category.
"Is a little peace too much to ask for these days?"

And you refuse to lift me.

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[Night Hawk]

Felix shrugged. "Peace... It's a long time since I've had that..." He murmured. "Peace is little to ask for. Your life, on the other hand... That's a completly different story.." He straightend up, his scar finally getting the better of him. "The raven shall live eternally, forever watching you and me. He shall not be heard, shall not be seen... With a flurry of feathers, he takes wing, beware all those that hear him sing. If the raven sings and you should hear, then it means your time is near... Screeching at the sky, it begins to rain, drops falling on your skin, it'll show you true pain. When the raven swoops down, eyes glittering like knives, then you shall know, it's the end of your life. Do not fear, do not cry, let not a drop of water wet your eye. Take your fate, so it shall be, yet let the raven's soul live, eternally."

[<Fallen>:.]

If you want to live, let live.
If you want to go, let go.

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"Peace... It's a long time since I've had that..."
She barely noticed his shrug, but paid attention to his words. The side of her (the normal side) of Laura was beginning to wake up with the prescience of another, and she no longer felt the need to be in a cemetery... And began to wonder why she had found the spot so attractive in the first place. Sure, it was beautiful... But this person, whoever he was, was right. You never knew what could happen out here. Suddenly her little hideaway didn't feel quite so safe.

As she began to put her book and pens into the black and silver shoulder-bag she had brought, Laura listened with attentive ears. It amused her slightly, the fact that you could go without peace. But she understood what she thought was longing in his tone. Laura herself went well out of her way to find peace, and though she usually managed to find it in music or in a garden, today she had required something a little more macabre, to match her mood. The cemetery, with its final, solid headstones, seemed to have done the trick. One hand on the shoulder-strap as she prepared to stand, she heard him prepare to speak, and tossed her hair over one shoulder to watch as she listened.
"Peace is little to ask for."
Laura couldn't help twisting her face into a wry grin at that. She felt quite the opposite.

"Your life, on the other hand... That's a completely different story."
The raven-haired girl's twisted smile contorted a little more, his line all too familiar to her. The councillor at Blue Raven Primary had said much the same thing. Except it had been a precaution, should the thirteen-year-old attempt suicide. 'Your life is a gift! It is too precious to throw away!' Many such optimistic lines had been stuck up around the walls. Repeats of such lines made her smirk, remembering the woman who had tried to get some long, drawn-out explanation for her dark fascinations and her depressed moments. What she had expected, Laura knew full-well. What she had gotten... Well, that was a whole 'nother story.
The clouds parted for a moment, lighting up the deep crimson embroidery on her dress. She'd fallen in love with the dress many years after that conversation with the councillor, but had sewn a few extra patterns around it with those words in mind. 'Your life is a gift.' And she had smiled.
"Depends. Some say life is cheap. New ones come every day."

Listening now, as the Miami sun had warmed her neck and shoulders, she let the poetry warm her in a similar manner. Her dark side had been numb, but now she recognised that the chill of the stone was colder than she had imagined. A slight shiver, before she continued to listen with avid attention, face still turned to watch him.
"Eternally..." she mused. Imagine. Your only duty, to assist in the deaths of so many. Or was the raven a metaphor, perhaps? For the murderers in this world, for the pain of the murdered, or something a little less dark? Perhaps the entire ting was a metaphor... A metaphor for a metaphor, even. 'Or maybe you're trying to find meaning where there is none,' she thought, chastising herself. The pale girl often thought this way.
"But why let the raven live?" she asked, half to herself and half to the poet. Surely revenge would be sweet; after all, dying at the claws of a raven was not how Laura would like to go, even in her most melodramatic moments.

I'm not afraid to dream; to sleep, sleep forever...

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[Night Hawk]

He raised his eyesbrows, smirking. "The raven? Is he not the killer? Or maybe he's forced into living eternally. Maybe he doesn't want to. He was forced into living eternally.. And into killing others." He ran a hand through his hair, staring at Laura, but his gaze seemingly to pierce straight through her. "Yet maybe he does all he can not to kill others.. Maybe he tries to find a way out of living eternally. Maybe he just want's to be left alone. To go his own way.." Felix sighed, fingering his sig saucer absentmindedly. When he realized what he was doing, he quickly snatched his hand back, hoping Laura hadn't seen. He glanced around, dark gaze penatrating the shadows. "Hopefully none of them bloody lot will be here..." He murmured to himself.

[<Fallen>:.]

Now, I have nothing worth fighting for.
We're wandering now.

"The raven? Is he not the killer?"
Laura was unsure what to make of the question, and was a little amused by the fact. Outwitted. Again.
"Or maybe he's forced into living eternally. Maybe he doesn't want to. He was forced into living eternally... And into killing others."
Well, he confirmed her earlier theory, at least. The raven was indeed a metaphor. The question was, for who?
Forced into living eternally... She remembered reading many fiction novels surrounding immortality. Often, it was the goal... A goal that wasn't worth the asking price. Many people died in pursuit of it (and the irony was far from lost on her); still more died possessing it. Take Achilles. Think how immune, how special he thought he was. And all it took was a blow in the right place... And he was finished.
Such finality was often a topic of her artwork; ends, beginnings, choices. Such common topics for discussion that were seldom solved.

As he continued speaking, the man's gaze began to disconcert her. He was focusing on something behind her, as if his words were not intended for her ears.
"Yet maybe he does all he can not to kill others... Maybe he tries to find a way out of living eternally. Maybe he just want's to be left alone. To go his own way.."
His tone was now distinctly... nostalgic. Not a happy nostalgia; almost regretful. Or perhaps her ears deceived her, as they did only too often. Only too likely, she surmised.
However, that didn't change her wary appraisal of his expression. If he was some kind of axe murderer...
Meaning to continue her walk, she shouldered her bag and stood... Just in time to catch a glimpse of his hand on the gun.
Funnily enough, her mind flashed immediately to a line she had learnt in Social Studies class. 'It is the right of all Americans to bear arms.' She began repeating it like a mantra, her eyes still locked on the place where she had seen the gun.

Laura had to admit, it was quite funny. All this talk of death; the cemetery; (their clothes); even the weather seemed to her a bit like a bad horror movie. It almost made her laugh; the funny, hysterical kind of laughter one expects to have in such situations. After all, they were both wearing black. In Miami. Even on a day like today, that absolutely screamed 'wacko'.

It took only a split second for all of this to cross her mind, and then she noticed that he had withdrawn the hand. Her heart was thumping so hard against her chest that she hadn't noticed.
As quickly as he, though a few seconds too late, she averted her eyes. Finding something else to look at instead of the place where she thought she had seen the handgun.
There were a few trees to her left, and she examined their depths, wondering how far they went. Just managing to distract her mind long enough for him to break the silence.
"Hopefully none of them bloody lot will be here..."

She didn't ask what he meant.

All in parts and pieces, swim lonely.
Find your own way out.

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[Night Hawk]

Felix saw her avert her gaze quickly, and he smiled grimly. His eyes flickered to where her gaze was settled. A few trees.. There was a movement in one. He cursed. Walking around the gravestone he was leaning on, he walked over to Laura and let his hand hover around, a few inches from her back. "Prehaps we should get out of here... It's a bit gloomy and what not..." He coughed. "Not safe... Not safe at all," He muttered, casting a dark glance towards the set of trees.

[<Fallen>:.]

I can't see your star.
I can't see your star!

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'No guns. No guns., she thought, still staring at the trees. 'Hah, dreadful horror movie moment number... whatever.'
There was nothing suspicious in the trees; she took comfort from their darkness, idly wondering (as she was apt to do) how long it would take her to cover the twenty odd metres or so before disappearing into their shade. And how long it would take for this muscled, golden-eyed stranger to catch her, if he was so inclined.
She came to the conclusion that, if her odds were that bad, she would never wear a dress again.

A curse caught her attention just as she arrived at that conclusion. Turning her head sharply, her personal silence broken, she saw him. Closer than she had been bargaining on. She could smell the gel, the leather of his trench-coat... Thinking about trench-coats distracted her enough from his sharp, cold expression to make her smile again. 'Trench-coats... Black clothing... Bad horror movie...'
There was little not to amuse her in the thoughts.
'Eventually, I'll ask him what his name is.'

"Perhaps we should get out of here... It's a bit gloomy and what not..."
Hm. So now he really did want her out of here. Oh well. But what could he see in the trees to disturb him so? There was nothing worrying, she found, in a few leaves rustling. Or was that the shape of a figure darting among the trees...? She blinked her heavily made-up grey eyes and squinted closer. No, the proximity of the stranger (however wonderful she might find his poetry) was messing with her head. And, if truth be told, she didn't really like it.
'Only I am allowed to screw up my own head.'

"And what troubles the fearless one? The king of Ravens and the lord of the Word? Oh, just a drop or two of rain," Laura muttered, trying to disguise her own misgivings... Hers were more about actually leaving the cemetery, though. There was the faint promise of rain on the horizon; a rare enough thing for Miami, but rarer still in summer.
Though it smudged her make-up -about which she seldom cared until afterwards- the rain was a beautiful addition to Laura's life, only adding to the Gothic world in which she preferred to reside.

How can the darkness feel so wrong?

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[Night Hawk]

"Rain?" Felix repeated, looking up. Indeed, it did look like rain... what a better way to escape than in the downfall of some rain. His phone beeped. Frowning, he pulled it from his pocket and read the message. 'What's this, Felix? We need the girl. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter. So come on now, are you going to kill her? Or are you a traitor? Am I going to have to kill both of you?' It read. He grunted and glared at the trees. He slid the phone back into his pocket, knocking the gun out of his belt as he did so, a move he had to perfection. Catching it, he slid it up his sleeve, keeping it hidden from view, but with his finger on the trigger. 'One wrong move,' he thought, looking at the trees, 'and you'll be dead in an instant..' He sighed heavily. 'Can't let 'em escape and inform Tobias or Rachel, now can we?' He frowned. Come to think of it, he really did need to kill the one in the trees, so that they wouldn't inform Tobias of his 'soft' side. "We really should, get out of here, Laura..." He said, then cursed, realizing that she hadn't giving him her name. She'd be wondering how he knew her...

[<Fallen>:.]

Just once in my life,
I think it'd be nice,
To lose control, just once...

"Rain?"
He said it like a question. Well, he had every right to. After all, in Miami such a thing happened in winter, if at all.
Then again, this was an unusual day.
She was about to respond, when his cell-phone rang. She turned away, uninterested, suddenly. She wanted to go, to leave the place... But she was here with a man with a gun. Hah, so why did she want to stay? Was she beginning to get her grand-parents' taste for adventure at last? Or did her councillor's words have the the opposite effect?
'Your life is a gift! It is too precious to throw away!'

Laura stared, blankly at the scene before her. What did he want? Every moment she stood here, she began to question his motives. He'd been here, watching over her shoulder. She hadn't noticed him watch her drawing; when he had arrived was a mystery. Had he been there all along, searching for unsuspecting mourners? Or was it pure coincidence?
She hadn't seen any fresh flowers on any of the graves, so that ruled out a mourner. (From the corner of her eye, she could see him reading.) There probably wasn't a car near by, so he'd either come on foot or he'd been dropped off. Meaning that he had intended to be there for a while. (She saw him glare; saw him look at the trees again.) She hadn't seen any freshly dug holes... He wasn't a grave digger. (Inhaling sharply, she saw him move quickly... taking out the gun again, or did he drop his phone?)

Closing her grey-green eyes, Laura reflected that envisioning this man as some kind of mass murderer wasn't really the best way to spend her afternoon. After all, what would he think if she let that slip?
'Unless your assumptions are correct, of course, and he is.'

"We really should, get out of here, Laura..."
She was about to laugh shakily at him, when Laura noticed the odd thing about his statement. OK, two odd things.
One, if he was a murderer (which she was beginning to doubt... slightly), then he'd probably kill her then and there... Unless it was a potential witness in the trees. Secondly... He'd used her name. She didn't recall telling him that; had actually made a pact with herself not to tell her name to everyone she saw. Her heart began to thump again, almost producing an eye-roll, it had happened so often. Maybe it was her hormones or something stupid like that.
Still... how could you tell a complete stranger that you 'didn't trust them', without looking like an idiot?
'Not that you care if happy-homicide here thinks you're an idiot, right?'

Her answer to that almost made her want to kick herself. Yippee for the damn besotted fool.
Oh, her mother was going to love this. She was always insisting that Laura not do 'silly' things, like conversing with strangers or going to cemeteries. She loved her mother; understood her very well... But sometimes, her overprotective side could be annoying. And now, she was really going to be flayed alive for this one, if Maia ever found out.
Laura took another deep breath, brushed her black waves out of her eyes, and turned to face the stranger. Time for a show of false bravado, perhaps?
"It seems we haven't been properly introduced, good sir."
Her tone was sharp, disproving. Narrowed eyes, pinched lips, and folded arms completed her expression. Of course, it was all a show to cover up her inner terror, but he didn't have to know that.
She spread her feet further apart, for greater balance.

"And I don't think I'm going anywhere."

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With all the pretty flowers in the dust.

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[Night Hawk]

Felix cast a desprate glance at Laura. "Felix Talon," He sighed, aiming the hand which held the gun at the trees. "Er... You might not want to watch.." He grinned grimly and pulled the trigger. Yeah, he hadn't fires a gun all that many times.. But he had a good aim. A cry of pain sounded. Then there was a pained growl and something wizzed over his head. "Shit!" Guess he must've been lucky.. that, or the one with the gun wasn't a very good aimer. Aiming at a dark shape of a human figure, and then fired. Unfortunantley, he missed as the figure fired a shot at Felix which managed to pierce his shoulder just when he was firing. Felix let out a string of curses and then switched his gun to the other hand. "Well, at least the guns have silencers built in," he thought grimly, then aimed carefully at the middle of what he took to be the figure's chest. His shirt, although it was black, had a dark stain forming on it. It also had a hole in the shoulder. Firing, he was satisfied to see the figure drop to the ground. "You shouldn't have done this, Felix," The voice gasped, loud enough for anyone near enough to hear. "Speakerphone." There was then a beep, just as the figure died. "Crap!" Letting out another string of curses, he turned to Laura. The poor girl was probably paralized. "We'd better get out of here. Your mum home? Or is she at work?" Pocketing his gun, he took off his coat and then his shirt. Tearing a strip off his shirt, he tied it around his shoulder and then slipped the coat back on. Frowning at the dead body, he shrugged. Ah, the Government will probably clean that up. He stuffed his bloodied shirt into a pocket and then slid over to Laura. "You have to trust me. And I know that's going to be hard," He chuckled darkly. "Your mum'd be the best choice to go to.. but if she's at work..." He sighed. "Then I suppose we could go to my friend's.." He tried to cast a comforting smile at Laura, but produced a slighty wavery twitch of his lips instead. "Tell you what, let's walk and you can call your mum..? Either way, we need to get out of here quickly.." He then started to walk towards the cemetry gate. "You can trust me and come with me, you can stay here, or you can get the hell out of here and away from me." He muttered over his shoulder.

[<Fallen>:.]

"Felix Talon."
'OK, you have a name. Now what the hell are you going to do?!'
It wasn't even as if this helped her much. But standing there, her body half turned to him... She felt even less in control than on one of her mother's 'holidays'. She wasn't even allowed to go to the bathroom unless there was a scheduled toilet stop.
Maia had been constantly paranoid all the way; not once did she let Dad take over the driving, even when she was half dead from exhaustion. When they got to the airport, 'no-one is getting out of my sight, you hear me?'. Mum had been constantly on edge, no matter what they were doing. Laura had managed to ignore it for most of the trip, but even so.

Laura suddenly realised that she was thinking these thoughts to distract herself. But her heartbeat hadn't calmed down, and she suddenly believed that it was a very good idea not to be there. What had he just said?

"You might not want to watch."

Why was it that at such moments, they world seemed to slow down?
her heart was beating like it wanted to get out of her chest and there was nothing she could do about it. He pulled the trigger. She saw a grim smile settle over his features. The bullet flew; she deceived herself into thinking that she could see it on its flight.
And all she could think was, 'My God, what the hell have I been caught up in?'

The gun's recoil barely seemed to bother him. But it was the groan of pain that bothered her.
'There was someone there. A person. A living, breathing being, and he just shot them.'
The answering bullet bothered her even less; the world seemed to make less and less sense. It was like her vision was going fuzzy. But she remembered the feeling. It was the feeling of calm, which (though it didn't slow her racing heart) signalled that Lyrica was taking over. Everything would be easier now. Slower. She didn't have to care about this, because the world was full of misery and there was no point crying over it.
'One death is a tragedy... A million deaths is a statistic," she quoted under her breath.

With Lyrica's cold, dead eyes, she watched as another bullet flew; a third bullet pierced Felix's shoulder. She understood, dimly, that her sub-concious was protecting her from the blood-shed. Not physically, obviously. And the thought made her give a small, disconcerting smile. So, now that the horror movie was coming into effect, what should she do? Scream? (She knew part of her wanted to.) Or would she be better off standing there? How would she know? It's not like shoot-ups were a daily occurence on her street.

Slowly, still smiling her soft smile, she sank to her knees again behind the headstone. She'd probably have nightmares about this; that was what you were supposed to do, right?
But it wasn't a very long gun-fight; she should've expected that. In real life, you didn't get a chance to dodge the bullet. You died.
She was facing the other way now, but she understood that someone must be dead. Not that she cared. No, she just cared whether it was Felix or... the other one. She twisted her grin a little, remembered when she was frightened of his gun. He hadn't even fired it yet.

A string of curses from the other side of the headstone told her that Felix was very much alive... and if not well, well enough to extend Laura's vocabulary.
"We'd better get out of here. Your mum home? Or is she at work?"
'And why, exactly, should I tell you?' she thought, calmly. 'So far, all I've seen from you is decent poetry and blood-shed.'
"Why do I have to trust you... Felix?" She said his name as if it was an unfamiliar taste on her tongue. Lightly emphasising the 'f', as if the name were a poison. When he said it was going to be hard, her dark smile increased. "You just killed a man, and you say that."
He talked to her as if she were a child. Good for him. He was just going to leave a dead body there? Fine by her too; it was a cemetery after all. But if he thought she would trust him now, for any reason, he had another thing coming. For while Laura was screaming at herself to do something, to run, to cry, to punch him, the calmer, cold side of her that she called Lyrica brushed smoothly over those... troubles.

"Your mum'd be the best choice to go to.. but if she's at work..."
He sighed. She snorted.
"Then I suppose we could go to my friend's..."
She had to look at his wavering mouth for a moment, before she figured out that his expression was supposed to be a smile. Oh. Well, if he wanted to smile while a man's corpse rotted in the trees just to her right, who was she to stop him? She could just sit in the corners of her mind, and watch the world she knew fall to pieces. She... she didn't need a smile. She needed answers. Specifically, why.
"Tell you what, let's walk and you can call your mum..? Either way, we need to get out of here quickly..."
He began to walk away from her. 'Good. Fine. Walk away from the scary Gothic girl. She doesn't care.'
"You can trust me and come with me, you can stay here, or you can get the hell out of here and away from me."

Ice water wasn't cold enough to describe the feeling that ran down her spine. Those were her options? Couldn't she choose something a little more... I don't know... mellow?
But he was beginning to recede into the distance. And whether she trusted him or not, answers were what she needed. What she craved. 'Sorry, Mum,' she thought. 'I'm going to throw all your advice out the window now. Hope you don't mind.'

She walked, quickly, after him.

[Night Hawk]

Felix heard Laura follow after him, and his lips twisted slightly at the corners. His phone buzzed. "Damn," He murmured, sliding it out of his pocket and checkign the ID number. Someone unknown.. Grunting, he threw it on the ground and stomped on it. "No use getting traced now.." Suddenly he frowned. "Demetri.. Dad.." He sighed and continued walking. "What'll happen to them? I mean, the Government are after me.. And if they can't find me, they'll go after my family.." Felix thought glumly. Rubbing at the three scars on his cheek, he looked up at the sky. "Rain.. Rain'd be good.." His right arm hung limply at his side, and he cast his eyes around the graveyard.
"There lie the graves of both young and old,
Lives that use to be..
Each and every stone tells of a life,
A life we shall not see."
He looked down at the ground as he walked, mind working like clockwork. Perhaps they could catch a taxi.. Seeing as he didn't have a phone anymore. Speaking of which, he really needed another phone. "Right, what you need to know," He said, turning to Laura. "I work for the Government, your mother works for Twilight's Rain. Twilight's Rain is a spy organization. The Government are trying to kill Twilight's." He sighed. "Somehow, the Government have managed to get a list of all of Twilight's members, except for the new ones. They are trying to get at Twilight's any way they can. To get at your mother, they're trying to.. well, to kill you." He shrugged. His usually warm, golden eyes were dull - cold. "I'm guessing you'll want to know more.." He began explaining more about the Government and Twilight's Rain.

[<Fallen>:.]

If you want to live, let live.
If you want to go, let go.
I'm not afraid to dream.
To sleep, sleep forever.

The velvet of her dress rustled against the grass. The garment came right down to her feet.
So, what would she tell her mother? There were two options. One of them involved being alive long enough to suffer her anger, and the other involved death, very soon.

Laura studiously ignored what Felix was doing. 'OK, murderer murders phone. Score is two-nil to him.'
Her thoughts were completely disinterested in anything other than what he had to tell her. She would get the information she needed, and then, if she still had a mind to live after whatever horror he would probably put her through, she could go home to her family with a warped mind. Her family... She bit her lip. If anything happened to Liam while she was gone, what would she do? Her favourite ray of sun shine, her only brother... She loved him half to pieces.
Only last week, he'd learned the music to one of her favourite Evanescence pieces, Lithium. (So appropriate, really.) He'd played it on the piano for her, and though his playing held little of the experience that the song's pianist had, the elegant melody was enough to make her scoop him up and tousle his hair. He hadn't complained; only that she hadn't let him finish.
Her hands went up to her head, untying the carefully plaited bun that rested there.

"There lie the graves of both young and old,
Lives that use to be..
Each and every stone tells of a life,
A life we shall not see."
Tilting her head forward slightly, so that her black waves covered her face, she folded her arms gently and stepped in time to the rhythm of his voice. It took her mind off of the body behind them. She swore she could feel dead eyes burning into her back, though she was certain the body was facing the other way. 'His eyes would be closed, anyway, right?' It didn't justify the warm feeling on her back. She stopped for a moment, slipped the black Samsung from her pocket. Wondered if she should leave it behind as he had... But her phone was off, and she usually had it on silent anyway. He didn't need to know. She slipped it back into her bag.

"Right, what you need to know."
Laura's face was the perfect picture of neutrality, up until then; his words forced an interested expression onto her face. She needed to know.

"I work for the Government, your mother works for Twilight's Rain. Twilight's Rain is a spy organization. The Government are trying to kill Twilight's."
It took a moment for this to sink in. She couldn't help smiling a little... but then she felt the dead man's eyes on her back, saw Felix's expression, and he smile slipped. But surely he couldn't be serious. Her mother?!
"Somehow, the Government have managed to get a list of all of Twilight's members, except for the new ones. They are trying to get at Twilight's any way they can. To get at your mother, they're trying to... well, to kill you."
It was the coldness in his eyes that struck her more than his words. They echoed in her mind a few times, before she could process them. 'To get at your mother, they're trying to kill you. Trying to kill you. To get at your mother.'
She swallowed, thickly. This was... she couldn't think the word 'insane'; the word was too strong for her vocabulary right now... but it was too weak and simply didn't cover the situation. 'Weird. Abnormal. Confusing. Horrifying. Whacked-out.' She felt herself flinching from the last one, and then a twinge of pleasure that she was still sane enough to complain about strange words.
'So... they're trying to kill me. OK, turns out I may be going home in a casket after all. He's Government. I'm dead.'
"I'm guessing you'll want to know more..."
"No kidding," she managed, weakly. He was going to kill her, was that what he was saying? No; if he really wanted her dead he'd have done that already. She knew that. So why was he telling her this? Amusing himself before she died, or genuinely wanting her to know why she was going to die? 'This is, of course, assuming he does actually want you dead. People don't usually take the time to get to know people they want in ashes by the end of the week.'

Her head was spinning. She couldn't see straight. Blinking furiously, she regained her balance, and tried to catch up with that he was telling her. Information she'd have to know.
'Well, Liam... maybe you're not gonna get a chance to finish that piece for me, tonight.'
She began to brush away the nagging, (And, frankly, annoying) thoughts that she was going to die. Thinking about Liam and death in the same moment wouldn't give a very good message to the Fates.

She interrupted him, midway through some names she didn't comprehend the meaning of.
"I'm sorry. You're telling me that my mother..." she paused for a moment to let the word sink in, and to get her head straight. "Is a spy." Her blue eyes pierced into his cold, golden ones. "And you belong to an organisation who wants me dead."

I don't need to touch the sky.
I just want to feel that high.