capeandcowllogs | do you hear this breath, it's an obessive breath

do you hear this breath, it's an obessive breath

WHO: Kraehe, Mytho, Fakir, Duck, Ivy, anyone else who wants to rescue the idiot poof.
WHERE: Some old abandoned church thing.
WHEN: Tuesday evening.
WARNINGS: Creepy petting, crazy Desire'd crowgirl, possible violence.
SUMMARY: Rue has kidnapped Mytho (again), and is keeping him in a creepy old church! Concerned individuals come to save him, and crazy ensues.
FORMAT: Paragraph or something.

The light of the sunset filtered in through the church's filthy window, casting a dim light over the interior. Ravens lined the walls and pews, watching the center of the room with a certain interest. In the center, on the only undamaged pew, Kraehe sat, leaning over Mytho's sleeping form, watching him carefully.

It wasn't enough. Before, she would have been overjoyed just to be near him, to see his lovely face, to have him in her arms. But now there was hole of wanting within her he could not fill, now, it seemed to hurt her just to look at him. Why? Why was it no longer enough for her to have him with her?

Her hands tightened into fists. It was Fakir's fault, it had to be. Every time she looked at Mytho she thought of him, how this was normal with, how he could spend as much time with Mytho as he wanted, yet he left him alone and left him wanting for love. The thought of it made her furious. He didn't deserve him. He didn't deserve anything, save for the awful fate that had already been decided for him.

She reached over, gently running her fingers through Mytho's hair. He would meet it soon, she thought. And no one would stop her.

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Mytho made a very faint sound at the touch, starting to wake.

Kraehe moved her hand away, then gave an oddly gentle smile.

"Hello, my prince."

Mytho blinked, slowly pushing himself to sit up. "Rue..." he said softly.

"I'm not Rue anymore," she said, smile still fixed on her face. She moved to place her hand on his, leaning forward so that they were very close.

"Kraehe..." Mytho didn't seem especially happy as he said the name, a small wary bit of fear creeping into his expression, free hand going to his heart.

"Don't."She reached up to move his hand away. "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

Mytho didn't protest, letting his hand be moved. "Are you going to call out the Raven Prince...?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "No. I won't let him interfere again."

Mytho blinked. "Interfere...?"

"With us," she said, leaning against his shoulder.

This did not seem to abait Mytho's confusion, however. He looked around at where they were, not at all at ease with the situation. "The crows..." he said softly. The one bird he did not at all care for...

"They won't do anything unless I tell them to," Kraehe said lightly. "Don't worry, my prince. You're safe here."

It was at that precise moment that the doors to the church were thrown open to reveal Fakir silhouetted against the lingering light from outside.

He hadn't told Ben where he was going, or what had happened. He hadn't told anyone, really. He'd simply gone out and hurriedly hounded every last junk shop in the immediate area for a sword that wasn't essentially a toy. Luckily, he'd found a shop owner willing to sell one to a teenager, and all that was left to do then was use the tracker he'd been given to find Mytho.

And get rid of Rue.

Time, permitting, armor would have helped as well.

"Fakir..."

Almost on instinct, Mytho raised his hand up, as if reaching for his knight.

Kraehe's face broke out into a wicked grin as she moved in between Mytho and Fakir.

"So, you've finally arrived. I was beginning to get tired of waiting. The ravens were as well."

As if on cue, the ravens all turned to look at Fakir, a strange eagerness in their beady eyes.

Old fear flared in Fakir's heart when he realized just what he had walked into. From the floor to the rafters, the church was packed with ravens. He gave a little shudder and reached for the sword at his hip, his gaze moving from the ravens, to Mytho, to Kraehe. He had to eliminate her as soon as possible. The ravens were an obstacle.

They're only birds.

But there are so many of them.

They're only birds.

"Get away from Mytho," he commanded, raising his sword in challenge.

Mytho looked over at Kraehe, eyes wide. "Kraehe..." he said softly, fear very faintly evident in his voice as for once, it seemed he understood all to clearly what was going on.

"Make me," she said playfully, moving even closer to Mytho. The ravens in the rafters began to raise a commotion, squawking and cawing and moving about. Kraehe let out her own crow-like laugh.

"They sound so exited to fight you, don't they? Are you going to disappoint them and run away?"

Fakir's stomach lurched, and he briefly felt as though it had lodged itself somewhere in his throat. He swallowed, shook his head, and forced his breathing to slow.

"Absolutely not," he said, the hand that held out his sword not wavering. "Now move away from him."

Mytho looked up at the cacophony of crows, fear in his eyes growing as he put his hands to cover his heart. "You said you wouldn't fight..."

"Shhh, Mytho," she said, hand brushing his shoulder. "I'll all be over soon." She leaned back, still grinning at Fakir.

"Get him."

Suddenly, ravens began flying from their perches, heading straight for Fakir.

~~There is no fear.~~

The first volley of ravens managed to reach him, tearing at his clothes and what little skin he had left exposed. He recovered as quickly as he could manage, swinging his sword in wide swaths to clear the path to Kraehe. She controlled them; if he could reach her, he could stop the assault. Of course, the ravens just kept coming.

"Fakir!" Mytho exclaimed, eyes wide with fear. He took a small step forward, but was half frozen by the strong emotion racing through him.

"Stay back!" Kraehe said sharply, holding her arm out to block Mytho's path. With her other arm, she motioned for more ravens to swoop down and go after Fakir.

"Mytho, don't move!" Fakir barked, stupidly pausing in his assault just long enough for the next wave of raven to catch him in the chest and bowl him over.

The back of his head connected with the remains of a pew, and he saw little else but stars as he sprung back to his feet and started swinging again. Almost there. He was bleeding, he was disoriented, and the ravens just kept pouring out of the rafters, but he was almost there. He'd cut her down and it would all stop. He just had to keep going.

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