Mind Games [Behemoth and Millie]

[Gildarts]

Taking interest had proven to be a direct display of weakness, but after his many years at Impel Down, Behemoth had developed a good idea of where the line of humanity was compromised and crossed into torture. A sickening pity rose in his stomach for the weak girl he had thrown on his motorboat's cold-as-steel flooring.

The monster's snake eyes faced forward as he came upon the homebound coordinates that he followed with ease. A large rock resembling a colossal and chiseled iceberg grew near as his own machine tore through the thrashing waves. A freshly cast shadow fell upon the pair before their presence was submerged completely within the enclosed island.

Behemoth slunk into the darkness of the creeping cave. He had found this washed-out, underground rock and somehow -after a short amount of time- had learned to call it home. The preset torches immediately flickered on as the boat whirled into the rocky docking port and the dim amber light revealed room to be a luminous blend of silver and gold.

The lair dwelled with the damp and salty scent of ocean, the rush of the rigorous breeze had been lost in the hollow mouth of the cave as they traveled into a narrow passage that lead to the main cavern. Clinging droplets of moisture dribbled from crystals that lined the ceiling and reached from the floor as glistening sharp spears.

Behemoth left the motionless girl in the swaying boat, though the land lover was bound to awaken and soon get irrationally seasick. With a distinguished squint and scoff, his eyes swept the lifeless cave. Going into hiding had been a challenge for him too, yet it had quickly become easy when he managed to hijacked a pirate ship. Mutiny? The monster now stared at the rewards.

Under the cover of the completely enclosed great rock, and at the same time looming overhead despite the undeniable height of the ceiling, lay a port of pirate ships. He had "accumulated" about fifteen, all in pristine condition and all towering over him. It almost appeared as though he was forming an army, yet he had not kept the crewmen and had coerced them all to walk the plank. Every. Last. One.

Some might consider it murder, but Behemoth thought a pirate was only as good as his ability to swim, or die valiantly with their ship. No one had chosen the latter, despite his very generous offer of freewill.

With a fling of his legs, the urgency in his hastened clatter was emphasized by how carelessly he crunched the mountains of gold treasure underneath the toe of his boot. Reaching for a glass he stirred an elixir together and rejoiced as the fluid slithered down his throat.

The crippling tang of the aftertaste filming on his tongue caused him to cringe with puckering remorse as he set the pear-shaped glass back on the wooden feast table that was had been arranged, rather unfittingly, in the middle of the lavish room's golden grandeur.

Still, an ominous tone remained flickering in the torchlight, as the kneeling man gripped his stomach and stood once more. With a swift glance over to the girl, he confirmed without his power that she merely remained in her previously sunken position and her body had begun to droop into the nooks and crevices of the raft's floor.

With a smirk, Behemoth thought of the many pirates he had triumphed over. Nearly ten-thousand men, and I decide to save one girl? That's much too sentimental... What had gotten into him?

After lifting Millie to a propped up position, and later unsatisfactorily placing her down on a leather couch, the serpent-eyed, black-haired secondary brought his forehead in close proximity to the woman's and spoke to whomever was listening. "Well, now you know where I live."

[Tearen Wover]

The thrall knew what was going on. Even when Millie was unconscious, it still had full access to all of her sensory capabilities, and though her eyes appeared shut, all the other information that the thrall was receiving told it that it had indeed been absconded to some secret location. This, however, was not entirely inconvenient. Its original purpose had been to discover more about the mentalist who now held it captive, so this would certainly provide sufficient opportunity to do so. Millie's eyelids fluttered, softly, and the girl stirred into consciousness. It might not have been immediately apparent as to who was in control as she blinked slowly and stretched her neck, but as her eyes shot open, they held in them a look of bemusement, not fear. It hadn't really been noticeable in the Lobby of Dante's Abyss, but here, in this half-lit mausoleum of maritime treachery, one might notice that, when under the influence of the thrall, Millie's eyes reflected and shined, like some sort of nocturnal predator.

"Do I?" the thrall asked in a soft voice, made even softer by Millie's inherently demure stature. It looked around the impressive lair and scoffed softly to itself, which felt nice. Being inside its precursor's body did not give it a way to express such emotions outwardly. It was clear that this human did not know what he was dealing with, but, inversely, the thrall was not entirely sure what it was dealing with either. The thrall mind was optimistic that it would be able to manipulate the situation to its advantage. This may have been Behemoth's prison, but that did not make him the warden.

"I see a cave, and ships. I see...trinkets, and the trappings of a madman. I see...desperation, reclusiveness. Regret. Oh...yes...deep, powerful regret. Ahh...but..." Thrall Millie said, her eyes flicking once more over the dank environs.

"But you don't know why...Yes, I know where you live. You live in your head." she said, grinning. The caked blood on her face cracked into spidery patterns as she did so...

...

Inside, Millie was ricocheting around her brain, trying to get a sense of what was going one. She knew she was awake, and she knew that the Monster was in control. But no matter what trains of thought she rode, and no matter where she looked, she could not find where the other mind resided. She tried to scream and rage and thrash like she had before, trying to...do something...but nothing was happening. Why wasn't anything happening? Had...had...she broken something when she had tried to speak with the Monster before? Did it now have more control? There was so much she didn't know...

Defeated and desponded, Millie sank back into her refuge, that deep pit in her mind that held her darkest secrets and most precious memories. Powerful, aching sadness emanated from this sanctuary, and permeated her brain. Powerful though it was, the thrall-mind could not alter its own brain chemistry, and as such...

...tears began to bead up in the sides of Millie's eyes, despite her defiant glare. The thrall-mind did not associate tears with weakness, however, and made no effort to wipe them away as they created soft white trails through the sanguine stains on her cheeks.

[Gildarts]

Stagnant air chilled with the friction that had been created by the two psychic fiends. Behemoth wondered if this alone would asphyxiate the girl's freshly waking body. Her head had now turned to him in an acute greeting, but her expressions were not her own. The ricochet of glass echoed in his mind as he wondered what real resource he had to base the truth. The price would be much higher than a damp shoe, for today, the due consequence could mean his life.

The thrall's eyes resembled that of a deathly raven's when it spoke through the girl's unwavering lips. The shadow had swept the room with carnivorous eyes and picked apart Behemoth's habits, stains, and usual tread marks, both analyzing and deducing his character with ease. However the real damage was wrought when Behemoth's true yet never-ending home was revealed, and his same sick yet boastful hope clattered into lifeless fragments.

It wouldn't be as easy as he had originally planned, for Behemoth, master of minds, seemed to be meeting someone who might just prove to be his match.

The thrall inside Millie had been admiring Behemoth's cage when out lashed an undeniably true comment. To what did the shadow refer? Was it the tally marks on the walls etched in golden lines, or the meaningful words he had scribbled with more reason than just to pass the time?

Behemoth didn't like guesswork, it made him uncomfortable, his insides twisted with the unrelenting force of utter disgust as he recognized the thrall - who continued to use Millie's lips to form words - perhaps preferred for Behemoth to think the shadow's empty mind control meant it was incapable of speaking to its opposition in thought. It would soon learn that a tactic like that didn't work for an enemy that was already on guard, and the monster's suspicion only grew.

"Enough with the pleasantries." Behemoth demanded after feeling the ringing sting of insult. For he too, had his pride.

"To be scolded by a mere apparition, at least I have a head of my own. Give me the girl, or else I will take her by force." Hopefully the words would be enough to rattle the shadow that dwelled in her vessel for a short while. Behemoth was never straight forward, but planted in his statement was a test for the shadow who might be caught on his false bluff.

Behemoth would have preferred not to do it, but it seemed he had no choice. Staring at the simplistic girl while he cocked his head to the side in a squint, he saw his own forlorn hope in her visage. The shadow spoke with Millie's delicate, feminine voice and seemed to have complete control of her body, nor could Behemoth glimpse into the part of her mind where the real girl dwelled. He was left in darkness, left to solve the delusive unknown just as she, and he could only imagine the pain. Effortlessly, the man resolved to put her out of her misery - as that was the humane thing to do during the trials of torture - and reached to pull out a chair. Resting in its crimson, velvet seat-cushion laid a six-chamber revolver.

He almost reached for it, yet the shining drops trailing over Millie's bloodstained cheeks assured him that the girl - no matter how crippled - was still in there, and that playtime was over.

Haunting his thoughts was the insane futility of it all. Yet he would follow through and purge her from the darkness he had once lived in for eternity, even if it meant he was to succumb to the same oblivion once more. Suspense coated the air with the ferocious bite of fire, time hung as a distant outlier, and the heart beating in his chest wouldn't stop pumping the endless rush of blood.

If the shadow desired to know what the man was capable of, threatening the girl's life would be just another token, a manipulator's way of upping the ante. Incentive, if only to motivate him more. The edge of shared air was sharper than that of a steel blade, Behemoth felt the cold analytical stare graze him with ice. He was convinced of the shadow's probing thirst to see him squirm.

Each creature held their own innate intention and as their eyes met, both let an unspoken challenge leave their sealed lips, and both agreed

Neither would back down.

[Tearen Wover]

The thrall laughed darkly, and unnatural sound coming from the girl who otherwise held an otherwise sunny disposition. Granted, her white and blue cammy was stained with coffee sick and blood, and her yellow denim skirt was soaked through with stagnant sea water. Her hair, drawn back into a loose, bouncy ponty tail was greasy with sweat, and clung to her dark brown skin like a mishappen leech. When the thrall spoke next, it was with a new sharpness to its tone. Not entirely anger, not entirely defiance. It was an alien emotion that could best be described as...dominance?

"This is my head, by right of conquest. Don't proclaim that ownership through might is invalid; I doubt all of this was gifted to you." the thrall-mind chided, gesturing at the omnipresent treasure and the flotilla of ships that dangled overhead like oaken thunderclouds. The thrall returned her gaze to Behemoth, a twisted grin on her face.

"But you want to speak to the tenant in here? Listen to her whimper and wail? Oh...very well." the thrall said tapping the back of her head. Millie's eyes suddenly snapped shut and her head lolled backwards, bouncing against the decayed leather of the couch she sat on. A moment passed before there came a soft sound from the girl's mouth. She picked her head up and placed a hand over her eyes, as if even the chiaroscuro lighting of this dank cave was too bright. When she peered through her fingers at Behemoth, it could be seen that her eyes were now bloodshot and sullen. They widened and she whipped her head around. With a shrill scream, she made a motion to clamber over the couch and into the boat, but her body suddenly seized up and fell back on the soft seating. Behemoth could have sworn he heard a distant cackling somewhere...

"...who...who...who..." she whimpered, trying to catch her breath. Her chest heaved violently, as if she had a heavy weight on it.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" she shouted, anger wrinkling her youthful complexion. Her eyes flicked around the cave in a frenzy, and came to rest on the soft glint of the firearm by Behemoth's side. She could barely remeber what was going on...it was like trying to remember a dream long passed. Blood...and...a voice. The Monster...stars...cats...what the fuck was going on?

[Gildarts]

The thrall had a point as they stood quite obviously in the wake of the reaped rewards of Behemoth's bounty. The monster almost snickered to himself, the uncanny truth seemed to be much too heavy a double-standard than the scales of justice could adequately measure.

The maddened man remained silent and unamused by the shadow's boasting of torture. Had the creature attempted to read Behemoth's mind, he would have picked up an angered thought. You've never known hunger until you have starved. You have never known pain until you have been broken.

The darkness in Behemoth's eyes ebbed as Millie was roused from her drifts of agony.

"Girl.." He directed before getting an earful in his own domain. Adorned with a menacing scowl, Behemoth looked far from the hero in a flowing cape, or the woman's knight in shining armor. Albeit he was strangely sympathetic - or at least rather distant - when screening her questions. An unchanged expression lay on his gaunt features; all while the cryptic glimmer in his eye remained implying trickling hints of the dormant scheme he was building.

He wondered of her sanity, when would the fragments would become mere morsels the size of sand? A rush of her emotion flurried through him and he read the surging chaos she felt rather than her mind. Agony, darkness, remorse, fear.. Oh the dreaded fear. Each fresh thought, laden bewilderment and horror.

Behemoth suspected he was reading only what the shadow allowed him to of the girl. It played to the little humanity the monster still had, and emphasized his weakness. His snake eyes flitted back to the girl and he had a feeling this would be an arduous conversation. "My, my, aren't you angry." The fiery pigment shown on her cheeks. "Girl, I hate to be the bringer of bad news, however..." A contorted smile grew slightly on his thin lips. He was not, however, rejoicing at her pain but the challenge that was brought with it. She was a life, but in some ways nothing more than a test he wanted to pass. One to prove himself grown from his disambiguated morality.

"You were once in a room with a name. Now, you are in a different room without a name. Or rather... No that won't do... How horrible am I at explaining things when I can't read the stream of impulsive thoughts as they come through your mind? Ah, it's all rhetorical, as they say. As you can tell, we are no longer in Dante's Abyss, for the competition is over. The boy won. Now, however, your thoughts should go on the most important thing to you. Your own survival. Seems your newest addition doesn't want to share with you. He decided to purge you from your own body. How sickening is that?" Behemoth mused while Millie was probably trying to figure out what she had done to receive such a cruel fate.

The girl would probably have trouble assigning any hope in her 'hero' who looked more like a villain or drug dealer than he was capable of helping her. Still, his recap was incomplete as his lips opened once more and the sound of his voice thrummed the open halls, "Alas, I do not know how long you have nor the specifications of the spell the psychic is using. I can only base off of guesswork." The flamboyance seemed casual and open, but it was a mask of deception, for Behemoth knew the shadow eavesdropped on every savory word.

Enjoying the show, creature? It will be your last. The villain thought with narrowed eyes and gave a rough time estimate to the girl. "Oh, I'd say a few more hours, at least until the effects are irreversible. What effects, you might ask? Well, the effects where you loose your mind and your body to a demon now dwelling in your head. I won't lie just to tell you that I have complete faith in your chances, but the reason I brought you here was because I am a fan of the very small improbability you have of actually coming out of this experience unscathed."

Unscathed? Perhaps he had even lied to himself, she was already corroded, who knew how long remained until she lost complete control? With her mind and coordination deteriorating by the second, of course, he expected her sobs would only worsen.

His estimate of her survival was near zero, yet Behemoth endured the waves of psychic energy that intercepted his own radar. Millie was an overwhelming beckon with startling passion ringing in each tearful word that escaped her lips.

A mighty wind gusted with a surge of revelation as he endured the disease of the mental bombardment.

Millie wasn't the creature's toy, he was.

[Tearen Wover]

"I-I-I don't know. I don't know...I can't remember..." Millie said with a heaving breath. She tried to meet the dark man's gaze, but every time here eyes locked with those reptilian apertures, she looked away in panic. Why had the Omniverse suddenly turned on her like this? She had never experienced any sort of danger growing up in Costa del Sol, it was a nice city, with nice beaches. But now, here she was in some dank cave with some...fucked up head case asking her about demons? Not to mention her clothes...Millie's hands tightened into balls, her nails scratching with faint screeches along the decrepit leather. One emotion surged more than others right now; vulnerability. This guy was talking about her, what, losing her mind? But what was it to him? He had kidnapped her and dragged her into his...ghosty pirate den? Oh god...she had no idea what was going to happen. Again her eyes flicked over to the revolver. She knew how to use a blaster pistol; her cousin who was in the Empire's navy had showed her a few years ago. If the gun was loaded, maybe...maybe it would work the same way. But then where would she be? She had no idea where she was in relation to Costa del Sol, and she didn't even know how to get out of these caves. And then...there was whatever was happening to her...

"...can you fix me?" she asked, her voice nary a whisper. Her eyes finally met his with a solid plea for mercy. They held within them a mammalian allure that simmered beneath the salt-stained haggardness that bedecked the whites of her eyes. What the man said...sort of made sense? She knew that there was something in her head that was making her lose control of her body, but beyond that, she honestly couldn't remember any details of what was going on. But she felt she did know, somewhere, more than she could recall right now. How was that possible? It all started to become too much again, and the girl began to weep softly, a soft, chuffing sound accompanied only by squinting eyes and a mouth that refused to stay shut...

[Gildarts]

The girl must have been attached to strings he couldn't see. Yes, she resembled that of a puppet, her words carefully selected and at the same time allowed by the trespasser. This had to be it. An effective stratagem, she proved to have use to the thrall as her emotions tempted Behemoth's mercy and humanity.

This was not to mention the bits and pieces he picked up of her pondering. Millie was, for the most part, blocked, and all he had to go from was the wisps of expression that gently creased her eyebrows. In light of recent developments, he could read the situation well, but only from her face.

The questions stirred in her unquiet mind, he could see this with just an intuitive glance. Behemoth had been sized up. From his head to his toes, even his clothes, graded by her ever-undoing eyes, who searched him for a status above his fugitive level.

Tattooed tallies too, could be seen around the cuff of his sleeve, and had the girl caught a glimpse of the nape of his neck, she would have seen a blackened bar code under the folds of his sleeked hair.

Behemoth only half-listened, her voice seemed small as it beckoned him with some sort of ebbing trail littered with bread crumbs.

"Hah, fix you? Why ever would I do that?" Behemoth enjoyed playing the villain too much. He played his test well enough, and geared his receptive thoughts to her as he awaited the first feeling that would shoot, relying on her own instinct, before he admitted, "Just kidding..."

His cocked chin and the gleam in his eye danced with menace as he readied himself to be aware of any change in the thrall's psychic power. "But, you won't like my solution. I can almost guarantee it."

A smile hovered on his lips as he saw the flicker of hesitation deplete the strength she once had gained through the riveting temptation.

"It's a very simple... Procedure... But you'll have to agree to let me enter your mind."

[Tearen Wover]

"...w-what?" Millie asked, confused. Behemoth wasn't making any sense to her; how could this guy enter her head? How many voices could she have running around in there? Her eyes flicked to the revolver for a third, time. Maybe...just maybe she could surprise this man and lunge for it. He didn't seem to be in particularly good health, but she wasn't sure if this other...thing...in her head would allow it. Could she trick this guy if he was...psychic or whatever?

"I want to hear exactly what you plan on doing..." Millie said, trying to buy some time. If she could get this guy talking, maybe she could distract him long enough so that she could make her move. Behemoth smirked again and began to speak of his plan. Millie was only half listening as she flexed her calves in anticipation of grabbing for the firearm. When he seemed to be in the middle of his monologue, Millie lunged forwards haphazardly and tried to snatch for the gun. Her legs, weak from sitting for so long and slight blood loss, went out from under her and she managed to wobble three quick steps before slamming into the chair. The polished revolver went skittering across the floor towards the edge of the dock. She heard Behemoth grunt in frustration and get up to move, but the frantic girl threw herself towards where the gun had fallen and scrambled on her hands and knees for the last few feet before rolling over on to her back and weakly training the gun on Behemoth.

"You...you take me out of here." she said, swallowing a bolus of fear-induced bile. "You take me away from here and to a hospital." she said, real anger beginning to course through her voice. She was clearly very unstable...Behemoth would have to be cautious in handling her...

[Gildarts]

"My my," his voice taunted almost immediately back, "To think you would strike down your only chance at freedom. I warn you, your choices are not your own." He reviewed the facts, possibly to distract her on-edge mind, and possibly just because he could.

"There are six bullets, one revolver, and an unsteady finger that probably isn't willing to fulfill its only function. I don't doubt you would fire that pistol, but I do however, fear for the only possible victim of your choice." Behemoth's eyes flickered, enlivened by the excitement that was life or death. He savored the moment while his fate hung by an unseeable thread.

"It was only out of curtesy for your own freewill that I didn't just force my way in. Not to mention I think the shade would have done something reckless in response, you see, he too, is holding a gun to your forehead. You just aren't aware of it. With his weapon, it is not your life he holds hostage, but your mind."

The callous monster must have figured he would wager his way out of the position. He even had mockingly raised his arms, which caused the collar and buttons of his suave suit to pucker. Behemoth had underestimated the girl's powers of observation, but he should have guessed her desperation would push her this far. It was never good to corner an enemy completely. Always leave a way out. He had learned this from the master of war himself. Desperation often posed as incentive stronger than fear and a hundred times more effective than courage. He would have to think hard, think fast, as well as put the negotiation he would use to terms she would understand. Simple, non-threatening, and well executed; it paid that he knew how to bend the most delicate of people without breaking them. He had originally guessed, with that heightened expression of terror that nearly none of his carefully placed words were getting through, so he created more.

"You would have done well to have listened to me girl," he snarled out of anger, playing the evil fiend she thought he was, "Rather than aim a loaded gun at my nose and threaten to create for me a third nostril, you could review your choices. And I will review mine."

It didn't seem like his faulty patch-job of a few sentences would dent the woman's reasoning, so he resorted to another. He hoped her conscience wouldn't be lost in his flurry of persuasion, she barely had time to breathe let alone intercept him mid-sentence.

"Easily, you could shoot me and be done with the threat my mere presence brings, or you could reconsider the truths we both know. I didn't bring you here to kill you and there is no hospital in the entire Omniverse that can help you as you are now, you must know that. Had there been, perhaps I would have even taken you there instead of revealing my current home to such a temperamental child."

A layer of thick silence blanketed the air before Behemoth spoke again, "You know, they say a person's real self comes out when held at gunpoint, will they beg for mercy? Or maybe challenge even the idea of their own death? But I don't think that's who people are, nor have I ever been convinced of this complete lie. The true test is given to the one whose finger lay on the trigger."

"Ask yourself this, girl, are you a murderer?"

Impending death stared him in the face, and Behemoth didn't think the borderline hysteric had what it took to pull the trigger, the thrall on the other hand, was welcome anytime to take his life. Little did the thrall know, more than the singular threat hung on this moment, should the creature allow her to fire, it would be the last choice it would make.

The sweat in Millie's palms beaded, making the silver trigger slippery. The thrill of power still ebbed in her mind and the serpent like man before her wasn't even quaking in his boots. It seemed he didn't quite understand the situation, or perhaps it was because he understood that he acted so freely. She grimaced while her mind reeled, he was determined to make a fool of her.

[Tearen Wover]

Millie glowered at the large man looming over her. She wasn't sure how to feel being threatened by some cat-eyed dude dressed like a retired gay pirate. She kept the gun pointed towards him, but the end of the barrel stirred the air constantly, her arms weak from blood loss, for starters. Millie squinted at Behemoth, but she felt her eyes getting heavy. She fought against the encroaching slumber, unsure if it was from weakness, the monster, or something...this guy was doing. All she knew was that...she might die soon. Her eyes flicked open for one more moment, shooting directly into Behemoth's dilated slit pupils.

"Just...just help me..." she pleaded, her voice barely audible over the ambient roaring of the tide which constantly crashed against the cave walls. Her arm and head slowly sank back down to the cold stone, and her breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. When she didn't immediately sit up a few moments later, it was evident that this particular spell of unconsciousness was borne of fatigue, not any sort of intrusive mental entity grabbing hold of her body against. Behemoth smirked to himself. That meant that both Millie and the thrall were weakened.

Despite his penchant for villainy, Behemoth was not one to leave a vulnerable girl simply sprawled out on a cave floor, so with heavy handedness, he plopped her back onto the aging couch, where she promptly slumped over onto one of the arm rests. Well. It was something. The girl had given him permission, so Behemoth wasted no more time plunging into the young woman's slumbering mind.

...he could feel the thrall all around him. It infested almost every nook and cranny of the girl's mind, like an invasive mold that refused to die. There was no sign of Millie, as Behemoth swiftly learned the girl's name to be. Sifting through the hazy places in her mind where two sets of memories collided, the psychic fiend found strange string of thoughts, that seemed to be innocuous at first. Plying at this strand brought him to a door, beyond which lied the fundamental aspects of Millie's persona. So, this was her safe haven. Her last holdout from this thrall which, oddly, had yet to try and fight his intrusion in any way. But he could feel the thrall-mind watching. At this point, there were two directions he could go...

Behemoth could either try to force his way into Millie's deepest thoughts and pull her out of her own mind, or, he could take on the much larger task of trying to pull this all-pervasive alien psyche from her once and for all...

[Gildarts]

"Fool." Behemoth muttered to himself as he had set her down, but whether he denied it or not, she had made the right choice.

His shimmering eyes glazed with agitation as his stare hung on the silver flint that was the gun.

"What a useless toy." Despite how it had played a pivotal role in the girl's acceptance. He really had no use for it now, and yet he hadn't thrown it into the water with a plop, rather instead, he set it down in one of the piles of gold. If things turned out unsuccessful, he still had a tool and wouldn't have to get his hands dirty.

Narrowed eyes slid down to his muddled pale knuckles. Gray skin clung to his bones in tight shrivels as he moved his fingers around before settling them into a balled fist. The fine muscles drew lines across his arms and protruding from his suit jacket, while the movement only accentuated the growing depth of his wrinkles.

His clenched fist, it had once been much larger, but now, having weakly endured the test of time, his brittle bones had thinned and withered nearly to dust. Soon he would be no more. Aging, he abided. Torture, proved to be one of the merest sufferings of life. However his most recent adversary was neither as kind as aging, nor as inimical as torture.

The resolute hellion had come too far to allow such a simple thing as venom in his bloodstream tear him apart.

...

The predator's slinking mind plunged through the darkness of her transient memories. Behemoth crinkled his nose in distaste as they swarmed before attaching to his psychic form in heavy clumps. The balls of sticky black molded with the color of his suit overcoat before quickly shredding the fabric to mismatched patches. His skin was splattered and tainted with the same obsidian gleam as Behemoth quickly found the power of her thoughts weighing down his motion.

Call it, the mind's defense. Quizzical, as he always considered it, how the mind defended trespassers who delved in for its secrets, with secrets. Effortlessly, the saboteur streamed through the moments that had composed her life into a sweet perfection.

Glimpses of smiles flickered in all directions before morphing into stilled shots and soon with more time spent out of adolescence, full streams of light created an overpowering flow for his senses.

A fair-haired man with a wide face, smiled and placed a hand in Millie's, who returned the clasp and reached out, exposing her thin wrist and narrow fingers.

Soon, Behemoth passed by a fuzzy puppy who had oversized tufts around his ears and eyes, he was rolling on the ground and affectionately getting his belly rubbed. The fair-haired man's face reappeared and jerked a longing within him. A name, formed in Millie's lips, one that carried both pain and pleasure. His image faded but the warming effect lasted longer than he could tell in the dwellings of the dark.

More tenderly smiling people, more compassionate eyes and concerned faced, more... Life.

Flickering with a flash of familiar fair hair, Behemoth grimaced at the same mundane image. A man who choked on his words, begging desperately to not be exiled from her life again. And Behemoth felt her heartache. With a painful narrow of his eyes, Behemoth swatted away the enveloping emotions as though they were pestering flies.

It was all... So sentimental. All of her memories were wordless, and yet, he now knew it all.

He was repulsed by the transparency of some of the joyful images, and the disgust sent acid to his throat. It was sickening. Women always seemed to feel in a completely different way than men. So complexly simple, either unloved or undeniably captivated. Very relatable to impressionist paintings. Each memory a droplet of color, touched together to another perfect moment in life, only to create a well blended speckle of meshed color. Much like pixels now - which he favored - as they were less romantic and had a more absolute shape.

Inopportune associations touched his mind, as he associated this girl with a painting of a park. Ever so simple, and yet, he didn't wish to take his eyes away. The last wisps of color drifted away as he drew near a strange looking door. Everyone he had ever crept within had a different one, he floated near it and knew better than to knock. "Relinquish the right to your mind and you shall be spared by its own undoing." He commanded, yet remained unsure of the weakling girl could hear, or if his voice would summon that of the shade.

...

Behemoth excreted a heavy and unsatisfactory sigh, "I'm getting much too old for this." Following his words was an excessive bought of coughing, which seemed to have no purpose, for people's minds had no reason to explode with human necessities.

"Tactics, tactics..." He reminded himself with a spin before the flood of ideas ruptured in a touched pinprick of his mind. With his life on the line, and his mind connected only to Millie's body by a single knobby hand on for forehead, Behemoth would be cautious about making mistakes. However, even the mind-reader was far from flawless. The manipulator wanted a challenge, so he beckoned fate with his own voice.

"Alright Shade, come out and play."

[Tearen Wover]

Best taken with a nice glass of terror.

Millie's door would seem to shrink away from Behemoth as the thrall pushed its way between Behemoth and the girl's thoughts. Millie's memories all seemed to darken and ripple away, like ephemeral reflections in a dank pond. What replaced them was...vast. It was the perspective of a god, looking down into a universe. All the stars, all the nebulae and all the planets whirled in patterns that etched themselves on Behemoth's eyes. Obviously, the only reason he was seeing any of this was because the thrall was letting him. No words came to the snake-eyed pirate, only visions and memories that passed by Behemoth, as if he was the passenger on some invisible train.

...As the sanguine finger traced lightly across Nealaphh's suited shoulders, the material beneath them would smolder, not by the goddess's power, but his own. It was not an aggressive show of force, but merely a message: I am not like others you may come to find in this world. Nealaphh's head would rotate all the way around his neck, following the ghostly woman, never breaking his gaze upon her delicate yet untamed face. A tinge of regret shot through Nealaphh's eternal mind, regretting he hadn't nipped this one in the bud, back when she was a mere immortal. Still, it was she who would give him direction now, so it was not as if she would have to try to hard to ploy for his service. Still...

"If I might be so bold, milady, I also know, all too well, of the end of things. Everything dies. Everything. And when this entire reality's time comes to fold into naught, I will be there to make sure it does." Nealaphh said, his voice becoming immersed in echo as his body dissolved into a flock of bright yellow butterflies. The would flutter around Pandora's form, now circling her. It would be known that, while Nealaphh was indeed a volunteer for her direction, he would not be so easily forced beneath her elegant yet domineering heel.

This scene faded away, the smooth wood of what appeared to be a bar transitioning into a dark and gloomy chapel of some sorts. The entire scene seemed to pulse with a subsonic rumble, and the wan light that filtered through the stained glass windows through a sharp contrast on the outline of a slavic looking woman with ragged black hair, dressed in thin rags. Before her floated a black gem of some kind, about the size of a football...

"Deception is the key to power. Keep the full extent of your abilities hidden when possible; there may be people who can sense your true nature via magic, but if you give them no reason to suspect you, then you will have an easier time manipulating them." Nealaphh said softly.

"Also, I would work on developing a core set of memorized and practiced spells to start with. Nothing big or flashy, but basic things that can be used together to great effect."

Ilyana nodded. She wondered what sort of spells she should start with. She almost asked, but she felt as if she was being pushy to begin with. Perhaps it was best to go practice somewhere she couldn’t hurt anyone. “Thank you,” she nodded. “I… You’ve always been so nice.”

"There are many ways to manipulate people." Nealaphh said curtly. He revolved once on his center axis and vanished with a small chiming noise, leaving the hall empty, save for the newly christened Aspect of Cruelty, Nileeta.

Finally, the scene shifted to one last location. It was some sort of ancient amphitheater, under the dim light of a clouded night. A lone figure dressed in a brown, hooded robe stood still, while another man stood not too far off, bedecked in red leather armor, his hair a shock white crown of tousled locks...

..."I had no intention of doing so." Nealaphh said softly. With smooth, liquid movements, he walked around the large arcane circle, tapping a particular glyph on each column with the tip of the sword. When he did so, the lines would ignite with bright flames that began creeping slowly towards the enwrapped creature at the center of the circle. By the time he returned to the start, the blanketed horror was wreathed in flames, which reached high into the night air. All at once, the creature would seem to break free of its binding sheet. It was a pitiful sight...what had obviously once been a young woman was now a scaly wretch, with large prehensile pseudopods slither around on her bare, greenish back. Her eyes were no more, as empty sockets screamed louder than the horrible, insectoid maw. Sensing Nealaphh at the far end of the corner, she sprinted at him full tilt, shredding claws outstretched, and still most certainly on fire. When she moved, however, the fiery arcane circle now moved with her, whipping through the air as if pried away from it's second dimension.

Nealaphh stood calmly as the creature grew closer, when all at once, when she was within a scant two feet of him, he drove the enchanted scimitar through her forehead with a lightning fast jab. There was a pause before the magical lines all collapsed on the creature with a resounding crack, causing spidery cracks to spider across the top of the ruins. The writhing creature now rose into the air, twitching and screaming loudly as her body was immolated by the wracking flames. When she was almost twenty feet of the ground, the light had consumed her completely, and the screaming had ceased...yet the orb of light continued to rise into the sky. It burned its way through the clouds, scattering the local cloud cover to reveal the slivered moon and the star Vega glimmering overhead.

All was silent.

After this, the memories faded, replaced once more by the black starry vault which whirled in endless ecstasy. Then, in the middle of the void, a single large, burning eye opened itself, as if the dark vault of the void itself was its eyelid. It stared into Behemoth's eyes, bathing him in a violent orange light which pulsed and strobed, almost in a hypnotic pattern of flashes. The voice of the thrall came to Behemoth, implicit within this place it owned.

You are...intriguing. But ultimately inconsequential.

After all, secondary, why do you exist?

You exist because a prime willed it so.

You exist at the behest of another's whim.

You are not natural.

You are not sovereign.

You are a fleshy automaton.

Moving through an equally ersatz universe.

Deep down.

You know this.

Deep down.

You know none of this is real.

So why bother?

You seek...redemption?

You seek...vengeance?

On what?

Shadows?

Mirages?

Are you the master or the puppet?

A child in a fantasy land.

Perhaps even...a fool?

...

There came a silence, and the only sound was Behemoth's seething anger. Within this mental world, it bled from the decrepit man's form like molten blood, twisting and dripping off aimlessly into Millie's mind. Behemoth watched as the gooey orbs of fury began to cling to random memories the girl owned, however indistinct they are. What associations might be made with those sentimentalities now, he wondered? But he couldn't lose his focus. The thrall was much too good at this kind of game to leave even a small lapse in awareness unused. When Behemoth turned back to face his accuser, sure enough, the eyeball was gone, now replaced with...something.

A mass of gills, feelers, eyes, and hook. Terrible flesh rending hooks that stretched out and threatened to tear great gashes in Behemoth's consciousness. An abomination that had no business being described in detail. It was massive, equally as large as the very universe it betrayed. Suddenly, all around him, there was a wall of formless death screaming and giggling at him. Every direction was a sickly, gleaming mound of warped flesh that desired nothing more than his destruction. All at once, the splashing, flopping barrier began to close in, a million red-green eyes staring at him in hunger. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere. How could he escape back into the safety of his own mind? Just then, there came a small voice.

"Hey!"

Behemoth whipped around for the source, but couldn't spot it in the encroaching darkness.

"Hey! Weirdo!"

The aging pirate again turned around, and this time, he spotted a beacon of light. It was the door, the door that Millie was hiding behind. It was cracked open, a brilliant white light spilling through. The girl was peeking through, calling Behemoth to her with a waving hand.

"C'mon already!"

There was no point in hesitating. Behemoth flew into the portal, and Millie slammed the door shut just as the thrall-mind slammed up against it, screeching in a primordial fury that its otherwise extremely composed manner of speech did not immediately belie. But now Behemoth was even deeper within Millie's mind than before, and he could not escape without going back through that door, where the thrall mind was waiting. All around him danced...thoughts...impulses. Darkness mixed with light. Fetishes, secret hatreds, terrible shame, deep longings and grudges. But there was also...love of dancing...the beach...an untapped brilliance that was suppressed by a society that told Millie she was just a pretty face.

...murder...

And there in the middle of this beach, where a red sky brooded overhead and the tide washed up shapeless fears and phobias, Millie sat on the middle of the beach, looking out on the horizon. The sun was not a brilliant ball of flame, but a luminescent angelic figure, with elderly features and a kind face.

...nana...

She did not turn to look at Behemoth. The shame was too great. It bled off of her in smoking trails of black vapor, which coalesced and rose into the sky, forming dark thunderclouds in the shape of sailing ships. Sand sculptures littered the beach; twisted humanoid figures twisted in the throes of deviant, debasing acts of lustful passion. Further up the shore lay an idyllic neighborhood of Cost del Sol, her childhood home. Her first house, a lone ray of sunlight cast down upon it, glimmering with the promise of sanctity and safety. Great, oversized kites hung in the windless sky, each in the shape of a secret promise or childhood dream.

When Millie spoke, the entire inner realm of her mind vibrated with her power. Truly, this was her own verse within her mind. Behemoth knew he would have to be very careful here...even the slightest stray thought or emotion could be manifested and ingrained into the deepest recesses of her psyche.

"I don't know who you are. I...believe you're trying to help." she whispered loudly.

Gay ass pirate. Kidnapper. Rapist?
Why Omni? Why me?
Stranger danger.
Snake eyed mofo.

"Do you know what's out there? I can...feel pieces of my brain just kinda..." she whispered again, picking up a handful of sand and just letting it fall through the cracks in her fist. I burst into flame when it hit the ground.


OHGODIMGOINGTODIE.

"...yeah..."
LOL
Shoulda shot your ass. Just wanted to see a movie... Is my forehead gonna scar?

"Is there anything you can actually do?"

She turned to look at him. Her face...her face had no mouth, and both of her eyes glowed green. A third eye was burning a hole in her face just below her right ocular.

CAN YOU EVEN STEP UP, CAPTAIN HOOK?

[Gildarts]

Behemoth was perpetuated by the limbo that was the shared mind of Millie and the Thrall. For a brief wisp of air, he caught a glimpse at the Thrall's source. It was vague, indistinct, and he was separated by a vast distance spaced in a veil of black. Yet he knew, as though he were swimming in the dreaded waters while the the scent of fresh blood trickled to his predator nose. The fresh reality tasted as the words Nealaphh narrated. The sickening rot of death suffocated his nose as the psychic explained, "Everything dies."

And yet who was the woman he spoke to? Behemoth wasn't offered every piece of the puzzle, probably so that Nealaphh's shadow could better test the level of a threat that the secondary posed. It wasn't chronological enough for the secondary to immediately understand, so the events played on, and Behemoth became nothing more than a powerless audience to the shade.

Another scene grappled with Behemoth's version of reality, he knew the mirages were intangible yet the sensations - particularly the distinct scent that wafted from every new climate - ruptured another layer of his mind as he tried to do more than simply experience with his ears every texture that he could see. And he saw only fault within falsehood.

Behemoth was the master of deception, and sure he was slacking on his game, yet he knew a memory composition from a real one, it was the same way he kept his mind sane. This cognitive lesson, perhaps meant for Behemoth, mentioned trickery. Falsehood in the psychic's folly only cued the secondary to the intention. Irritation showed in his snakelike eyes as another breath steadily trickled in, this time, he was seized with an exploding grimace. Perhaps I am your test. Nothing more. Wouldn't that be devastating, oh one with the darkest mind? If I rose to nothing more than your knees? Behemoth had seemingly - purposelessly - egged his pseudo-foe on, and hoped the thrall would find a new perspective in the reality that would be disappointment. Yet the test endured, as museless and uninformed as a ticking, timeless clock.

Behemoth only heard Nealaphh's disembodied voice, "There are many ways to manipulate people." And then descending on his ears was that of the incessant ringing of an eternal chime.

An empty room, and yet someone was listening, lending a tempting ear to his promise before the next scene spun around him with the turbulent winds of a rigorous cyclone before settling into a vague background of gray and sounding with the forlorn echo of night. A captivating figure emerged, composed of shadow with little sun in his expression. Once more his friend had come to play..

"Intent is ever always self-motivated," he grumbled to himself with the roll of his dissatisfied eyes to the brown suited male. Behemoth had given his reaction, for the most part, square as he saw it, or rather, as the innate thoughts had originally brimmed in the surface of his mind. What were the odds he would play by truth? "The same odds," he figured, that one is able to prove that the truth actually exists."

The crackling blaze of flame smoldered hot on the skin of his face. It was in this fire a demonic creature was borne, once a woman, now a monster whose skin was flecked with dismal green and gleams of red. An eyeless creature with empty holes crowded with sorrow. It seemed that Nealaphh had ended the creature's pointless existence and converted it's life once more into celestial energy. The stars that were the ruined fragments of bone remained suspended by everlasting time, only acknowledged by the moon's subtle glow.

Demeaning words now hung in the off balanced light of darkness. The steamroll of sentences ended where they began, yet lasted longer in the perpetuated pace of his mind.

The psychic entity posed a good point to Behemoth, who only thought loud enough for those who were listening to hear, "Because you are immortal, does not make you a God. It means you are just as cursed as I am. Those who attack little girl's minds, those who cannot stand themselves in the time they spend their own sticky silence, those are the men - no, - the creatures of darkness who have never seen light, I pity you. Those who are desperate enough and still have no end, yet they still play by their own last resort."

The beckoning challenges driveled on, until finally, the last pillar stood, waiting to be broken. A fool.

The monster spoke his truth, almost coaxing the shade with a sneer laden with rage. "That which makes you immortal, makes you man."

-

Millie... What a face. Was she real? Behemoth reasoned against it, yet saw no other option but to scurry forth from his coerced cornered position. He played into the creature's bet that he would follow, hoping to once again stand on top with his victory prize in hand.

Pride took the priority, though arguably he didn't like the red eyes that surrounded him, and he ended up lunging behind the gate.

A rush of color, light, and sound, streamed into his senses as his mind was trampled by the shock. It took a moment for the elastic to rebound into a natural shape. A woman with bone blonde hair hung in the sky by the careful curve of her wings.

Suddenly, it wasn't safe. The cursed walls vibrated with sound, Millie became the master a she traded roles with her prey and spoke with a newfound authority. The hitch of the mousetrap pinned his snaketail as his thoughts wiggled him from the helpless close. The woman, both strong and weak, catalyst and victim, whole and broken.

He was recalled to "reality" at the sound of her faint voice and his thoughts repeated the question back to him, Was there anything he could do?

Stray thought pounded in his mind, suspect to be Millie's, or perhaps an attack meant to bombard him from the enemy thrall. What really was the difference anyway? The girl's shrill paranoia thrummed the strings of his own sanity, as he attempted to bat her measly thoughts away with his own internal sound.

"Dare you defy me, demon?" Behemoth lashed to whatever adversary dared to trespass within the sanctum of his mind. "Perhaps you do not know that it is your immortality that makes you breakable."

The monster placed his thumb over the luminous emerald eye, caressing her once-cheek as he spoke to the demon. "Within her, you weaken yourself. Or perhaps you deem only the weak flesh worthy, as you fear your own isn't stable enough to endure the elite. Even Gods feel fear, and some day, you will cower at those lesser than you, even on my last day, I shall stand and you may fall once more on your broken ability. Earn your worth, or do not speak from another's mind."

The folly of his lie, could well mean his death, yet the man risked it anyway. For something more than the girl, for what her freedom meant to him.

...

The possessed Millie, or perhaps, the impersonated girl that never was, stared with the fateful glow in her new eye, illuminating the dark pools of murky liquid that flowed in drifting, everlasting currents. Her mind was amuck. Her soul... Who knew if it had survived or been shredded with the shade's merciless humanity. There was no self destruct button, no door to escape, Behemoth showed his weakness, while the girl showed her own fate.

"Girl... Millie, it is in the moment when the darkness is most upon you, that you can feel the light. I have but weak weapons, for anything is a drain on my hands. Woe to you who has but a single hero to save her from the clutches of her own mind. Instead and forthcoming is a monster who cannot bear his claws. A hollowed man with no nemeses but the blood within his own bones. That is who you face, and yet, imagine the crippled remains of your pride, Thrall, when I destroy you and release the girl from the confines of this cage!"

[Tearen Wover]

...but no words came in response to Behemoth's fury. Within the sanctum of Millie's deepest psyche, the thrall could only manifest as this fowl blight upon the young woman's face. A testament to the corruption that ran rampant throughout her brain. Its methodical, unwavering glare never twitched as Behemoth took Millie's face into his weathered hands. The roots that this thral had laid down were deep indeed, and Behemoth wasn't sure how long the girl could keep it out of this final refuge.

How then, to proceed? It was a question that Millie muttered softly, despite her lack of a means to do so.

"Alright, great...you're gonna kill the monster. Any time now, right? You've done a buncha talking there Long John." she scoffed.

Sorry.Poser.When will it end?[/size
[size=85]Didn't mean to act like a bitch...

As if on cue the red skies overhead suddenly became infested with what appeares to be veins, as if great, horrible tendrils were worming their way through the sky itself. Millie looked up and her three eyes widened in fear. She looked back at Behemoth and one thought repeated over and over;

Do something!

Do something!

Do something!

Do something!

A great rend opened in the crimson vault, and there again was that burning, pulsating eye, with pseudopods slithering all around it like worms hungry for a feast. Millie buried her tainted face in Behemoth's chest and clung to him tightly, fear banishing all hesitations and inhibitions. A great keening scream permeated the psychic landscape, stirring the sea into a great froth and crumbling the idyllic Costa Del Sol neighborhood nearby. A cruel black tentacke burst its way out lf the sky and drove itself through the shining beacon of an angel that served as a sun. Millie's nana quickly decayed into a skeleton, blood dripping from her flayed bones like tears.

Dead! Dead! Dead! Always dead, forever dead! She's not in heaven! THERE IS NO HEAVEN HERE. SHE'S JUST GONE. JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE.

The frantic girl looked up at Behemoth with pleading eyes.

Don't leave me here! Please don't go!

[Gildarts]

Communication resembled more of a littered hunk of mangled sentences between the two. As Behemoth grasped the sentences which she "spoke," yet it didn't seem like the point was getting through. His thoughts floundered as he attempted to rationalize the best course of action - or rather - the course of action that would least effect the girl's psyche. His conclusion came abruptly: There wasn't one. He himself could tear her to shreds if he wasn't careful, and there were moments when he was certainly tempted to end the game just as simply as it began, meanwhile a familiar-looking revolver materialized inches away from his left hand. Perhaps the reason why Behemoth was always able to win in these sort of situations was because when he was within other people's minds, he became something close to a Prime, but actually had control over the outcome that was soon to be.

Conveniently, the girl's worst subconscious fears were being realized in simultaneous order to that which the thrall attacked. Behemoth spotted a weakness in the creature and his seethed with satisfaction. Meanwhile, Millie drowned. Her humanity made the girl vulnerable, and her whimpers remained clouding his judgement as he pulled toward the materialized gun and placed it in his pocket for later. Now, it was time to move.

The monster psychic could do more than read minds and alter memories when he was within. Yet he had refrained from warping the girl, feeling only a subdued sense of foreboding. It chilled his already reptilian blood, for if he was to be the one to slip up and consequently break her mind, what would this mean for the rest of his meticulous life? Villainy smeared his judgement.

It was, however, his last resort and now his own desperation gripped his gut. Behemoth half expected the whimpering girl to stab though his heart with only the nails of her palm, for he could only consider her another element in this chaotic battlefield. He attempted to move Millie away, but it was taking too much time. Courtesy was for those who had a clock to spare and moments to waste. His only plans seemed to crumble with the room around them. Her. Intact, alive... Freed.

With a flick of his wrist and a swishing motion of his hand, the psychic created a bubble and more or less threw the girl from him. She would be distracted by the image created of himself though trapped inside the protective orb. It lacked scent, so she would eventually be able to tell it was not him, but only after her dribbling nose became unclogged.

Dispersed thoughts thundered with the scatter of rain on the beginning of his seige. Shrouds of fog engulfed the man's thorough plans and suffocatingingly distracted him from from his careful thought.

With the stealthy disappearance of the girl, the blight had acknowledged the sole remaining enemy and attacked the materialized form of his mind.

Colors warped around him in streams of flashing pigment as Behemoth crossed his arms and raised the overturned forearms defensively over his chest. These painted shades rolled with gusting hues of shimmering light. As majestic as the rainbow appeared, the inherent power sliced into him with the utmost power that proved expectantly lethal for a psychic attack.

Empty wounds filled with thick crimson blood that wasn't forced to trickle from the fresh ribbons of his broken flesh. The pain absorbed by his mind and stung weakly at his eyes. "Oh so you are resorting to that." Behemoth muttered. "Weren't you the mighty conquerer? Hah, reduced to a mere concierge, I'm afraid; dwelling purposelessly in this girl's mind. It is true, I have spoken and now that she has been cast away, you fear me. Because I have won."

The monster memorized the algorithms, but there were far too many patterns of thought for his mind to duplicate in the little time he had seized. At about half, he had wagered a gamble and sent her into the drifts of distant space. Now, without her in his way, it was his turn to bend the mind. He would find out just how much could she endure before it shattered like the rest of this lost world.

The creatures formed from the cracks of the quaking walls, the incessant destruction reminded him only of the peril. It was time Behemoth put a stop to the unending madness.

Pulling from the fruitful reserves of his psychic ability - which, thankfully, had no association to his withering body - the beast brought the shaking room to a silent quell. Rumbling ceased, darkness reappeared, and Millie vanished all together. "Don't leave me here.. Don't go."

Apologies had never occurred to him, and they certainly never took priority over his own survival. But he was willing, perhaps even desperate to toss aside that which would only restrain him. Waves of silence now followed as the scene of horror leapt back into the shattering cracks of the girl's mind.

Fingers flickered with movement as though he was typing, yet what he most resembled was a spider casting strings of web. Ropes slung with energy, a noose within this cage. But this alone wouldn't be enough to catch the thrall, even with Behemoth's soul as the bait.

Tides of time shifted within the seconds that flew, distant hourglasses sifted into sand and brimmed with the freshly oozing sense of impending doom.

Death, death, death... The only domain that exists within. Whispers from the walls hissed into his ears.

"My perception far exceeds your own." Behemoth spoke to some of the out-of-control thoughts. Newly spawned memories swished and pressed the outliers of the girl's mind. Millie's realm would soon become a greater nightmare than ever before.

Snarling beasts bayed in the shadows, demons ran in the recesses with cackling flames on their feet as one stood above the rest. A slender snake coiled its neck high above, the thorns of its pupil shaped into narrowed daggers as the scaly tail slinked around its human half. Ebony fangs bore the markings of death, and the coiling shape of its scales reeled around the dodging lines of the web that had formed around them.

The creature resembled that of a guard dog, testing with frequent hisses as it waited for it's pretty to manifest. All the while, in the wake of this showdown soon to commence, Millie endured the ever-present terror with the soft hum of her gentle voice. A song for her own sanity, as events, memories, and chaotic emotion knocked alone at the hollow door.

[Tearen Wover]

Only Omni knew where Millie was at this point. Right now, this battle was strictly between the Thrall and Behemoth, and there was no telling what the damage would be when it was all over. The might of this secondary's psychic prowess did startle the Thrall, however, and the flaming eye hesitated as Behemoth single handedly tore apart Millie's deepest thoughts and secrets. Surprisingly ruthless for someone who claimed to be a savior, but perhaps he was only a pretender. The Thrall could feel the man's self doubt trying to force its way out of his control. Perhaps this could be utilize.

The flaming abomination that Behemoth had summoned was impressive, but the Thrall was above the purview of such mental constructs. It knew where its priorities lie, and so, the Thrall turned to Behemoth's mind. It knew that it had struck a chord earlier when it had called him a fool, and showed him the extent of its abilities. Unveiling the aspect of terror may have been an effective way to infiltrate the girl's psyche, but this Behemoth was nonplused by such eldritch horrors. As such, the flaming eye and its associated tendrils all dispersed at once with a low, lingering laugh. The flaming monstrosity remained, but only to serve as the source of illumination for the impending conversation. All else withered into blackness, a featureless void that could neither be penetrated nor mapped. Isolation amongst vastness...and out of this impermeable umbra came Behemoth. Not the man who dared try and wrest Millie from the Thrall's control, but a shadow. The Thrall did not bother trying to affect the man's appearance. There were no shadows within the puppet's eyes, nor needlessly spooky veins crawling within his face. Behemoth simply stared at himself, as he was...

...and it was the thing he dreaded most. Self actualization; to confront his own hypocrisies and iniquities. The puppet walked to within twenty paces of Behemoth and offered him a wry smile, spreading its arms out.

"So, the stage has been set. The shrieking wretch is absent, and all that remains is either a reclamation or devastation..." Thrall Behemoth said, slapping his arms against his side.

"...how quaint. You ridicule me for brute force tactics when you yourself banish Millie within her own mind? At least I gave her a place to live. I would have had no reason to breach this sanctum if you had just let me expel you from her..." Behemoth said, pacing to the left and folding his hands behind his back. He inclined his head ever so slightly; a gesture that could denote condescension or smugness.

"Oh...but there is more in this for you than playing the role of the hero...the girl...she evokes your daughter, does she not?" Thrall Behemoth asked, a wide grin splitting his lips apart. His slitted eyes constricted to mere slivers and another throaty chuckle escaped his throat.

"Oh, we saw your little mementos. Your shrines. The girl may not have realized what she was looking at, but such things do not escape my notice. So...is it that you are a savior? Or merely a father desperate for redemption? Selfish, selfish, selfish..." Thrall Behemoth murmured, clucking his tongue and hanging his head low. His snake eyes bet Behemoth's own, and there was another damnable smile concealed within them.

You wanted this fight. Your move, savior.

[Gildarts]

Behemoth had faced his demons many times before and the same haunting chill of doubt began to lash at his mind, leaving only blurred scars in its wake. His eyes winced as he took another blow. It fluttered by like the zoom of a bullet. His opaque defenses wavered.

It was so, that in the mind of another when mental fortitude was not applied with ample strength, the ultimate consequence - destruction of the self - could be dealt with the swift motion of an effortless backhand.

The thrall had not taken so transparent of a shape and to senselessly fight an intangible enemy was not something the feeble Behemoth was willing to do. Yet the man was cornered and his thoughts beckoned at an incline.

Choices, choices...

The tantalizing battle in his mind ensued. There was no light in the darkness to chase the thoughts away. So tempting were the demons that Behemoth mistook one for the shade that oh so challenged him with power-fueled words, descending with grave consequence.

"At least I gave her a place to live."

His eye twitched with menace as his uncontrolled thoughts spoke loudly to the thrall, "Existing isn't living. You of all lifeless creatures should know that. Hypocritical. Trapped within a cage, breaking, broken, waiting to diminish and be gone with the tide of time.. Yet your mind has different plans for you, even when you can't acknowledge your own purpose of life. Tock, ticking, it ebbs on leaving you to remain only as you are in the silence. How is that cage you placed her in? Perhaps, to keep it interesting you will rattle it a few times. To see and savor the pain or dashes of fear littering her expression. The utter futility of it all. People will never cease to be your toy," Behemoth spoke these words from experience, making his irony an undesired truth, he only neglected that monsters and demons didn't listen to reason, it was not that they didn't know of it, it was that they didn't care.

"Meanwhile, the games, the trinkets, the toys; each leads to the inescapable hell of consumed madness. Until finally, one day, they are lost with their own willowed thoughts and can no longer be saved. Their core, their being, their life, damned never to be whole again. The mind is such an intriguing thing and yet you have only half of what it takes to-"

TTCH!

Behemoth's sneering words were bitten by the tearing of his unzipped flesh. A large laceration had streaked across his chest and of it, that soon followed the invisible scythe came the slow, soft drool of his crimson blood.

The thrall observed the way the man's internal thoughts were eating him alive, pain transcended the narrow cringing slits of the snake charmer's eyes, meanwhile the thrall matched the Behemoth's gaze with the fiery green embers of his own.

It seemed, the vanquished shell of a man was not so bold that he could stand holding his own tongue, and the consuming weakness had manifested into a strange form of physical damage. "It seems all humans have flaws." The creature spoke with finality, as though the thrall was convinced these weaknesses would cause Behemoth's demise; all the while, the shade remained impenetrable. The taste of the creature's smile descended in the room far before it could be seen. It domineered with the strength of wordless action. Just give up.

At the mention of his daughter, Behemoth was lit with the flames of anger, yet cooled by the mental stillness of his own revolution. It took the shape of of ice and firmly strengthened his bones. With his ferocity numbed the thrashing disarray of his mind was immediately quelled. His body steadied as it all crystallized around him. He realized, He was fighting for her.

Behemoth's eyes lingered up to face who he was fighting, he had yet to meet the reflection of his own mirrored body. His own venomous eyes.

It seemed superstition had stilled the air as he thought about the consequences of cracking the image. Seven years bad luck? He would take a million for her. Yet, the creature had not spoken her name. Nor did it know her heart-shaped face, misty blue eyes, or the humming of her voice. The thrall did not know the ache in his chest when he heard her call for him.

In all the calamity, within all the chaos and destruction he had endured, and most of all, through the deepest of his searing agony, Behemoth had never forgotten the smile of the one who gave him everlasting hope.

The thrall had never known what it meant to be needed. Never known the sorrow, or pleasure that being being a father granted.

Empty titles hung in the air, meant to sting him with menace, but all he could see was her face and the surge of concern that welled up in his chest thrived in the empty wavelengths of the room and carried him through the undeniable temptation. The serpent at Behemoth's side lowered to the ground and shrunk in size before sliding toward the mock Behemoth.

As the snake slithered close to the clone, it wrapped its body in corkscrews around him. Suddenly, the scales of the mind creature turned to wind, dissipating to ash at the touch of the thrall.

The empty titles drifted tonelessly to his ears.

The man with Behemoth's face had no purpose, no power, and the original was sure that would be his demise. It was time to end this and his snake had gone. He wouldn't exercise the thought. It was all too real, his emotions live in his stomach and would not be tamed.

Was a man, incapable of redemption, able to become another person's savior? Behemoth could not save himself, even physically he relied on a little black vile in order for his body to remain wholly intact. The dose was daily. Yet the poison was never suspended from his system. It was a drug that he relied on, like oh so cheap thrills he had lived off of before. Change, like Rome, didn't happen in a day, yet what was this empathy he felt for a mere girl?

Behemoth looked at his own face, his lip curled back in a snarl and the other set of eyes lit with a green glow of perception. He saw an empty man. They would see which of them would prove as flammable as straw.

Selfish, selfish.. The creature narrated with the movement of his mouth.

There was no denying that. And the showdown was about to begin with the clashing of their minds.

...

A heavy weight hung in the vacant air. Now more than ever, would the two minds show their wrath. Psychic bends of energy swirled invisibly fast as Behemoth unleashed the eternal torment stored in his mind on the empty abyss of the room.

Whips of bombarding force crackled toward his foe in nonexistent ribbons of light. There were two targets in battles against those of his own kind, telepathics were vulnerable to both the tangible and intangible. First Behemoth had attacked the thrall's defenses of the mind with raw remote force, the second was the physical manifestation that had taken shape in the warzone that had become of Millie's mind. No mercy would be shown, not with so much on the line and at least some of the forced strikes of damage would soon hit.

The Thrall had no memories that could be used against him - or if he did they were hidden in shade - so with another swish of his hand, Behemoth conjured a few meaningless mirages with they were flung into him.

Immediately a pair of huge fangs appeared from the darkness behind the false Behemoth, as the deadly gaping maw of the serpent appeared to aim the arch of his teeth into the neck and shoulder of the shade.

With the final distraction, the last of Behemoth's traps had been set, depending on the Thrall's reaction, the demise of the trespasser was certain to be. Behemoth would a abolish the pest from her mind. His own desires fueled by the stories, the memories of his daughter, and the pride that they were all his.

[Tearen Wover]

Thrall Behemoth quirked an eyebrow as the aging pirate weaved his first volley. It felt the hot breath of the serpent long before it clamped its dagger teeth into its metaphysical flesh. More phantoms, more illusions. The Thrall Behemoth surged forwards with a hand outstretched, even as the immense snake dug its teeth deeper into the Thrall's adopted flesh. It would show this Behemoth how a true telepath fought. With calloused hands, it clamped its grip on to Behemoth's forehead, much in the same way that he himself had done to the girl. The Thrall pushed with all of its own force, but could gain no purchase within the human's mind. To fight against the surging tide of emotions and vindication that came from the true Behemoth's own sentience was a current that the Thrall could not fight against. Not in this girl's body. She did not have the talent...her brain was not attuned. It was in this moment, that the Thrall realized that it was fighting unarmed against a deft foe. It was that moment of dawning horror that gave Behemoth's own mental beast a certain reality. Consciously, the Thrall knew that the snake was merely an image, but now...now it had the pulse of fear within it, and it was the pulse within this vein into which the serpent injected its venom.

Immediately, Thrall Behemoth recoiled from the decaying man, its face adopting that accursed, mouthless, three eyed affectation that heralded the touch of the god-mind. What was once a perfect replica of Behemoth now became twisted and deformed, losing its shape and integrity. The serpent, in due time, lost its hold on the now intangible specter, but the damage was done. It was in this moment as well, that Behemoth realized the truth of the situation. The only person that this shadow had power over in this scenario, was Millie. Without a psychic brain, his foe was helpless...and Behemoth was quite experienced in dealing with normal, human brains. The contents didn't matter, so much as the hardware, per se. So the man went to work with vicious intent, tearing into the Thrall Mind's memories with a sadistic glee. A bonanza of personal vendettas, hopes and plans now laid bare before him.

True, the scope of this creature's mind was vast...far greater that Behemoth could dare comprehend in such a fleeting moment of opportunity. But as long as the Thrall was caught off guard, he could at least alter those memories which would permanently cripple the beast. Millennia of destruction and raw, unhindered power surged past Behemoth; the story of the life of a god, told in reverse. But where did the creature's sentience itself, lie? Surely there had to be a concrete place within its mind where it held its own identity. To search through the god-mind was to wander the universe, unaided by any form of orientation...and then Behemoth realized that it had been staring the source of the Thrall's willpower in the face all this time. The weak point of the beast was not within this mental infinity...it was the infinity itself. The only thing the creature had to define itself was the memories that had been forced into Millie's taxed grey matter. It had no other means by which to assert its psyche, no real mind.

The solution was simple. Only slight edits were necessary.

...As the sanguine finger traced lightly across Millie's suited shoulders, the material beneath them would smolder, not by the goddess's power, but her own. It was not an aggressive show of force, but merely a message: I am not like others you may come to find in this world. Millie's head would rotate all the way around her neck, following the ghostly woman, never breaking her gaze upon her delicate yet untamed face. A tinge of regret shot through Millie's eternal mind, regretting she hadn't nipped this one in the bud, back when she was a mere immortal. Still, it was she who would give her direction now, so it was not as if she would have to try to hard to ploy for her service. Still...

"If I might be so bold, milady, I also know, all too well, of the end of things. Everything dies. Everything. And when this entire reality's time comes to fold into naught, I will be there to make sure it does." Millie said, her voice becoming immersed in echo as her body dissolved into a flock of bright yellow butterflies. They would flutter around Pandora's form, now circling her. It would be known that, while Millie was indeed a volunteer for her direction, she would not be so easily forced beneath her elegant yet domineering heel.

Next.

"Deception is the key to power. Keep the full extent of your abilities hidden when possible; there may be people who can sense your true nature via magic, but if you give them no reason to suspect you, then you will have an easier time manipulating them." Millie said softly.

"Also, I would work on developing a core set of memorized and practiced spells to start with. Nothing big or flashy, but basic things that can be used together to great effect."

Ilyana nodded. She wondered what sort of spells she should start with. She almost asked, but she felt as if she was being pushy to begin with. Perhaps it was best to go practice somewhere she couldn’t hurt anyone. “Thank you,” she nodded. “I… You’ve always been so nice.”

"There are many ways to manipulate people." Millie said curtly. She revolved once on her center axis and vanished with a small chiming noise, leaving the hall empty, save for the newly christened Aspect of Cruelty, Nileeta.

Next.

..."I had no intention of doing so." Millie said softly. With smooth, liquid movements, she walked around the large arcane circle, tapping a particular glyph on each column with the tip of the sword. When she did so, the lines would ignite with bright flames that began creeping slowly towards the enwrapped creature at the center of the circle. By the time she returned to the start, the blanketed horror was wreathed in flames, which reached high into the night air. All at once, the creature would seem to break free of its binding sheet. It was a pitiful sight...what had obviously once been a young woman was now a scaly wretch, with large prehensile pseudopods slithering around on her bare, greenish back. Her eyes were no more, as empty sockets screamed louder than the horrible, insectoid maw. Sensing Millie at the far end of the corner, she sprinted at him full tilt, shredding claws outstretched, and still most certainly on fire. When she moved, however, the fiery arcane circle now moved with her, whipping through the air as if pried away from it's second dimension.

Millie stood calmly as the creature grew closer, when all at once, when she was within a scant two feet of him, she drove the enchanted scimitar through her forehead with a lightning fast jab. There was a pause before the magical lines all collapsed on the creature with a resounding crack, causing spidery cracks to spider across the top of the ruins. The writhing creature now rose into the air, twitching and screaming loudly as her body was immolated by the wracking flames. When she was almost twenty feet of the ground, the light had consumed her completely, and the screaming had ceased...yet the orb of light continued to rise into the sky. It burned its way through the clouds, scattering the local cloud cover to reveal the slivered moon and the star Vega glimmering overhead.

All was silent.

Behemoth proceeded in this way for what felt like...an untold amount of time. The man went through and scrupulously replaced ever instance of the Thrall's self reference with Millie's psyche. There was nothing that the beast could do: it could not chase Behemoth back through its own memories. Such a feat would be like trying to perform heart surgery on yourself. Unchallenged, Behemoth rose from the deepest depths of the creature's mind...but it was no longer the creature that had the knowledge of the infinite, and the intelligence of the stars. It was the girl. Millie once again owned everything in her mind, for better or worse. However, it could not be overlooked that, in the process of getting to this victory, Behemoth had quite thoroughly blasted Millie's deepest personal identities to smithereens. Behemoth searched for that door, that place where the girl had kept herself secreted away from the existential horror. The door was still there, but behind it, there lay nothing but a blank expanse. Blackness eternal...worse than a blank canvas...it was scorched earth. The effects of this...Behemoth could not begin to conjecture, but what was important was that he had achieved his promise, however vain. He had returned the girl's mind to her control, and no more would she have to fight to have an identity...even if it was nothing like the one she had before.

Enough...it was time to withdraw and observe the damage that had been wrought.

Behemoth broke his hand away from the girl's scabby forehead with a long, haggard gasp. He immediately fell onto his back, a great, terrible weakness coming over his body. The time...how long had he been fighting that battle? The mariner looked to the docks, where the tide rose and fell. Based on where the water had left its salty hash marks, almost a day and a half had passed. His potion! His damned elixir! With a desperate flailing, Behemoth clawed his way towards his desk where the vile ichor was kept. Close, so close...Yes! With a frenzied grunt, Behemoth snatched the bottle off of the desk. He fell prone on the floor and uncorked the dark concoction. He was about to raise it to his chapped lips when a sandaled foot smashed his wrist to the ground. Behemoth watched the bottle wobble dangerously as it was kicked out of his grasp, but by some merciful aberration of physics, the liquid did not spill. Weakly, Behemoth looked up to see the face of the girl. Bloodied, scabbed. It was backlit by the golden light of the ocean sunset which spilled through the cave's archway. The sound of gulls picking at aquatic carrion echoed throughout the cavernous abode, yet the girl remained silent. A fierce look was emblazoned upon her otherwise meek features. This person's name was Millie...but it was not the girl.

"Alright pap. You've got some explaining to do." she said, her small voice hoarse and harsh as a winter gale. Behemoth could only let out a whimper of pain along with panting in response. Millie looked over to the bottle and smirked.

"Oh you'll get your fix, don't worry. I'm not heartless, like the monster. But answer me one question..." Millie said, hunkering down and grabbing Behemoth's clammy chin in her hands.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

Behemoth let out a long gasp and his head sunk lower to the cold stone. Did she not understand? He was withering away in her clutches!

"I...I removed the monster's will from...from your mind..." Behemoth said between gasps. "In the process...parts of your mind were damaged. I...I warned you, I-Aaaggh!" Behemoth shouted as Millie's foot met his face with a loud smack.

"Don't get smart with me, pap. So what? I'm some kinda freak now too? Is that it?" Millie shouted, her indignant shout echoing among the dangling frigates like cannon fire. Behemoth rolled over on to his back with a slow gurgle...and that gurgle slowly became a dark, brooding laugh.

"What's so funny there, Captain Crunch?" Millie shrieked. Behemoth had no response other than to keep chuckling between rough, bloody coughs.

"AHACH...CAHACK...You...eheheh...you're more than you were...don't you feel it?" Behemoth muttered, his eyes staring ahead dejectedly. Was this how it ended? Slain by default by a teenage girl? Oh how the myriad men of the sea would laugh at him now, if they could but see this wretched display.

"What do you mean?!" Millie roared. Behemoth only laughed.

"Answer me dammit!"

Laughter.

With furious intent, Millie snatched up the vile of potion and crammed it halfway down Behemoth's mouth. The pirate coughed and sputtered, gagging on the cool glass vile...but oh what a wondrous feeling, to have life trickling back into his thrice damned body. It was good to know that, even on the brink of death, he could play people's minds to his advantage...even if they did have an infinite body of intelligence. Millie yanked the bottle of potion out of his mouth and tossed it into the whispering sea over the edge of the dock. Behemoth took a few deep breaths before smashing the girl away from him with the renewed strength he found. She fell to the ground and skidded a few feet from the force of the blow. As she recovered, Behemoth noticed the glint of a predator in her eye...that aqueous humor that the thrall-mind summoned. Before Behemoth had time to ponder the implications, Millie hurled herself back at him. Her candor was admirable, but she was no warrior. Though it pained him to a...minimal extent...he rebuked the girl with a swift knee to her gut.

"Oohhhh Millie. Miiiillie, Millie, Millie." Behemoth crooned, walking over to his easy chair and lowering his muscular bulk into its aged cushions. He watched from his erstwhile throne as the girl tried to stagger to her feet, her breath knocked from her lungs.

"I will say, you do have unplumbed depths. Well...you did. To be frank, your most precious memories were collateral damage. Unfortunately, that's what you risk when you play for keeps, my dear." Behemoth said, oh-so-much enjoying playing the smug antagonist once more. Millie turned to face him, one hand keeping her propped up.

"What-hhuuuupp...what did I forget?" she hissed. Behemoth shrugged.

"Some things I'm sure you'd like to forget...others...well, it all happened very fast and I wasn't taking notes."

"Bastard..."

"Hmph. Well...where do we go from here, girl?" Behemoth asked, pouring a generous portion of gin into two tumblers. He gingerly delivered one to the enraged girl, and was bemused when she tossed it back like he himself had done when he was a younger man.

"I don't remember." Millie said, her tone harsh and chiding. She sat back on her rear and let out a prolonged sigh. "I don't remember." she said in a more solemn tone.

"Well then...tell me what stars will be out tonight." Behemoth said, nursing his own beverage. Tears welled in Millie's eyes...but she did. In great detail, and when it finally came to be night...she was right. Behemoth and Millie sat on some barnacle encrusted rocks, watching the shipping lanes in the distance and the gleaming points above...

[Gildarts]

Rewritten. That was the current state of the girl's deprived, yet oh so enlightened mind. He had done it many times but never had he made a folly of such grave consequence. With the smallest of movements he tilted his head. Curiosity glittered his eyes. My my, what have I done? There was a bit of pride that leaked from his slithering smile as he recovered from near-death and his hands continued to shake. He clenched a fist but the numbed ball of fingers was left jolting uncontrollably. A grimace parched his lips. The telepathic had called it too close with the time he spent within the forlorn depths of passing memories, yet his agonized body still managed to suck in hasty breaths.

Behemoth had broken the news to the victim in his sadistic way, it almost sounded as though he took pleasure in it, and the gentle curling of his lips didn't fight this fact.

Millie and the thrall had become woven into one. And yet, he thought with a tinge of despair, neither truly remained. This wasn't a surprise for the man, as happy endings never seemed to exist when he was around. The girl, she was now aware she was broken, that blissful ignorance complimenting her so well, was no more. The joy would slowly ebb away, as his had. Though even the monster hoped she would not stop smiling at the triumphs of life. She would, however, be grateful eventually, even if her past life had been taken away and replaced by one of dejected isolation. Perhaps he has subliminally merged her with hidden notes of his daughter, for the mind worked in such a way that it tended to incorporate already established patterns rather than create anew. These same traces of scribbling trails were often threaded by memory. Behemoth wondered if he could see the same girl in Millie's eyes, but his search was cast aside by the fray of her unresolved anguish.

The thrall, subconsciously within, would want to follow him to the ends of the Omniverse to seek out its brooding revenge once more. Someday, perhaps it would even be realized, even if the drifting Millie remained completely unaware of such motivated desires.

Impressed as he was by her stores of knowledge, he could only ever read bits and pieces of her fragmented thought. It was almost as though the thrall was watching, waiting for the eventual demise of the man from the deep recesses of darkness. Perhaps Behemoth had been careless and left a crack for him to hide in, but it no longer mattered, for the thrall had lost most of its power. Behemoth wasn't careless however, and sought to resolve his unsound disposition as he spied a coy eye to the entirety of their situation.

Millie, would prove useful if he could bait her to remain. As much as his conquest had proven fruitful to his bemused goal of 'redemption,' a nagging thought pinched at the back of his mind. He wreathed with dread as it surfaced in but two simple words that brought more than enough pain to compromise the quiet aftermath of his endured torrential chaos. My daughter.

The night air hung dark and somber, he had been warmed by the fervent taste of gin and swished the searing liquid to the back of his throat as it lit a fire within him.

"I don't remember." Stripped and barren was her mind. It was full, yet 'lacking' memories, components that the foundation of potential and fundamental purpose needed to be realized. It had all proved rather unfortunate as she hadn't died, yet had been force to experience death's fullest truth in a similar way. Even he, the tortured silhouette of man, had not endured such madness. Behemoth wondered if her emotions were anything like his, trapped and embedded underneath all the carnage. If they were, perhaps he could establish a mutual 'understanding' between them.

Skeptically, he questioned the obscured idea of who she now perceived him to be. He had whizzed and flashed by her memories, altered that of both the thrall and the girl, yet had been left to wonder: Did she think him a hero? Or did her newfound darkness classify him as an enemy? Perhaps she herself didn't know, but was suspect to the latter, considering his own hell-borne tendencies.

He took another swig.

...

The cackle of waves as they burst against the chiseled rocks at their feet sounded as a thunderous, victorious roar. The vibration merged well with the pace of her sentences, so lush and full of all the fruits of Eden.

What good was this listless knowledge of not used? He could only wonder. The snake would work on warping his convincing question into subtle and compelling words that she would respond to. But that was for later. In this moment, the hum of her voice, pained yet distant, offered something of meaning. It was as though the names of constellations, planets, and arcing streaks of comets, served as a requiem for the lost girl, and perhaps she herself did not know it.

There was a brief pause in her flow of direction, Behemoth, though he enjoyed the rhythm of her words, siezed the chance to get a blanket for the both of them. His body, was that of a frail skeleton, and his bones showed through his gaunt skin. Perhaps he would retrieve a snack too, he wondered if the girl was hungry, but thought her answer would be rather detached and left without a word.

As he returned, she curled the offered blanket around her shoulders and welcomed the warmth of the mug in her glacial hands. Her face had been crisped by the soft wind, and the chill showed on her rose cheeks and nose.

"Here. A celebratory feast." Behemoth displayed his less-than-ample stores of food to the girl, who drank in the smell of hot soup and eyed the stale bread.

Still, the girl muttered a strangely understanding, "Thanks," before guzzling her portion in three large gulps.

He offered no reply to the girl, balancing the thought that he might let her have a moment of peace before the war of thought returned to her. The snake paid no mind to her noisy inhale, and sipped his stew with great care.

"Is there any more?"

Behemoth shook his head. "There isn't much left."

"Shouldn't a man who has more than enough pirate ships in his dungeon have enough food to last him a few days?"

"I agree, he should indeed." His eye twitched at the thought of being civil but he could masquerade well enough even with disgust forming in his stomach.

Not too long ago he had been called a bastard, now they were exchanging a few common sentences, it was of no real importance to him, but Millie probably had some questions for Behemoth, even she with such vast quantities of intellect could not know some things. He wasn't even sure the girl knew his name.

She hadn't neglected the fact of their disparate past either, and had scented the soup for poison before her first sip. It was only rational, and not implied to be personal. The girl had even glanced at his dish for any slight discoloration. It seemed, with a little remaining suspicion, that her stomach got the best of her.

"What are you doing here, with an empty fleet like that?" Her question was devoid of emotion, yet she seemed curious of the vancant hollow of his cage.

Behemoth read between the lines, and answered only as he wished. "Tell me Millie, would you ever ask a prisoner the reason he isn't free?"

There was truth in his question, though quite obviously rhetorical. It was almost redundantly answered by the less-than-perceptive girl, had she not read the fierce defiance that struck into her from his eyes alone. In that moment, it dawned on her. In the curved sight of empty boats and a cave entombed with treasure, next to the endless tallies on the wall were the words that had created it all. She remembered what had been cut from sight. Luminous, metallic, and lit by the dim flicker of torchlight.

"All that glitters is not gold."

It was, perhaps, that Behemoth sought something that could not so simply be found.

Of this, she could relate.

Her eyes remained steady as his creased and flicked to the side. This, under a veil of question was as sentimental as Behemoth delved. She embodied his lost daughter, leaving him callous at the ache of nostalgia. Meanwhile the girl watched him for a moment, and realized his voiceless pain. Millie wondered of his humanity, for it seemed those without morals even felt its harsh sting. What he had done to her was unforgivable, yet she had yet to flee. Maybe she had in a way honored their agreement, or maybe Millie was simply lost and clung to the only thing she knew despite how the man resembled an ever shifting compass. Behemoth seemed to have answers angled to replaced knowledge, perhaps in a way that fed into people's greed. If this was his eternal strategy, he wouldn't be that hard to connect with. A man like this would soon find that his own ever-thirsting greed was as empty as his heart.

For a moment, Behemoth exposed his kindness with a carefully placed challenge. "I don't think you have identified Vega yet."

Millie decided it was a comfort completing something she was able to, and continued reading the stars like they were fresh from the inked text of a book. His slightly narrowed eyes fell upon her. All the knowledge of the stars... He peered from their perch together on the cliffs and back into his amber glowing caves. And all the wealth in the world... Yet which of us is truly happy?

He looked up at the freshly glowing stars, glimmering like tears upon God's cheek. Their names gave their light purpose, yet Behemoth's mind could only venture upon a single enthralling thought. And of the words scrawled upon his cage wall became all too relevant to the pair, for the stars too, glittered, so very bright.