The world of man had extended far beyond what they should have. They no longer thought of plants or animals, focusing solely on continued development. They tore down forests and ancient relics to make way for their cities and roads. Animals were becoming extinct by the second, and at any moment, the race of vampires might be discovered by a foolhardy act only to have the humans do experiments on them, torturing them until they wished for death.

At the moment, none of this mattered to Nafretiri as she sad on one of the tallest buildings in Demaitre, watching the tiny lights, not in the sky, no, but at her feet. How it awed her every time she got to see them. For all the things they did wrong, humans could create such marvelous things. These lights, though they had some negative effects, were nevertheless wonderful, and Nafretiri enjoyed watching them. Her dark eyes were speckled with the orange glare as she sighed, completely relaxed.

Her dainty legs swung softly off the edge of the building, her light skirts fluttering about her feet. To one, she might have looked like a little girl, staring in wonder. Her arms hugged herself, not for warmth, but for comfort. Her head was turned to one side, and her wavy hair danced in the wind. Lips slightly parted, she lost track of how much time she spent watching the little lights. Those soft, pink lips eventually curled into a wisp of a smile.

Yes, marvelous indeed.

~ Syaoran spotted the other within seconds of arriving. It was Nafretiri...the one he had met at the library. A rare smile graced Syaoran's lips as he moved toward her, not a sound made by him. Leaning down he positioned himself next to her ear.

'Boo.' Again he stood straight, now dismissing the smile form his face.

((OOC: Short-ER))

There she sat, lost in her own thoughts. Closing her eyes, she let the wind suround her in its caress. It was only when she felt a face close to hers that she opened her eyes. Nafretiri didn't look back, for even if she was delt a mighty blow from her adversaries, she would survive. Instead, she recieved a masculine voice saying, "Boo" oh so softly into her ear.

It took her a moment to place the voice, but when she did, an amused smile crossed her face, lighting it up. Turning slightly, she raised an eyebrow at him. "Boo back." Vaguely, she wondered if he noticed any difference in her. Probably not. The changes that had occured to her had all happened on the inside, and she had not known him long enough for him to pick up on the differences, or so she thought. She may be wrong.

"What brings you to my rooftop this evening?" she inquired, motioning to the place next to her. "Is it the view? That's why I came." Saying this, she glanced back at the city, her face going blank before turning back to him with a quiet smile.

~ Syaoran felt a sudden rush of ease...something about her was...well, different. He himself could not place a finger on it, but he thought to let it be at the moment.

'I believe it is the view that attrached me.' He replied calmly, looking out over the city. 'It is good to see you again, Lady Nafretiri.'

"The view likes to attract those on their ways," said Nafretiri cryptically, following his gaze to the lights. "Especially those like us." She didn't feel the need to elaborate. He would know what she meant, she was sure of that. Us did not mean vampires, it meant old ones like her who had not seen such things when they were young. There was a peace about her, just staring out at the night. It was both harder and easier to fit into this new world. Harder, for humans could investigate human deaths in depth. Easier, because there were people who dressed as they did, and were pale as they were pale. There were even humans who pretended to be them.

"It is good to see you too, Master Syaoran," whispered Nafretiri, sparring him a look out of the corner of her eye. It was only for a moment, before her gaze when back upon the glistening night.

~ Syaoran looked down at her.

'Master?' He heaved out a slight laugh...those forced, it still sounded delightful. 'Please Lady Nafretiri...I am no "master" or sir...please, just call me by my name.' His lips remained parted, ever so slightly as his gaze drifted back to the city. 'Disturbingly beautiful...isn't it? To think those mortals down there would one day cause us such harm.' His mind sub-consciencely drifted onto his thoughts of Hikari, but he ignored them.

"If you do not wish me to use titles, then do not let titles pass your lips," replied Nafretiri, chuckling. It was a soft sound, like the twinkling of bells. Judging by the way he held himself, she could detemine that he had probably been of higher status than her in life. If anyone were to be called 'Master' it would be him, though now they were both on equal ground, sharing the long stretch of eternity. Her eyes turned downcast before returning.

"Yes. Only the ancient ruins of my land have ever captivated me the way those twinkling lights do." There was a pause and a quirk of the lips. "Of course, when they impressed me so, they were no ruins. Great and magestic structures they were. Some of the finest in the world I dare say." Yes, it brought back so many memories. Some times she wished she could see them in their former glory.

~ Syaoran nodded lightly.

'Tell me, Nafretiri. When the time comes that the mortals learn of us...what will you do?' The ancient looked down at her. His fiery gaze fell on her, but lacked his usaul pierce that torn down into the very soul. 'Because if that day comes...you are more than welcome to share shelter with me.' This was no corny pick-up line, Syaoran was the upmost serious. He had a feeling it would happen soon.

The question caught Nafretiri off guard. "What would I do?" she whispered, more to herself than to her companion. "I have no idea what I would do. To stay and show them that we are not heartless beasts - or not all of us - would be one, but I am not sure I am brave enough to attempt such a task. Still, I do not like the thought of hiding. It seems weak and cowardly for one who has done what I have done." Her face was in a frown, and there was but a speck of pain in her eyes.

Hearing his declaration, she turned her torso right towards him, her mysterious dark eyes meeting his equally mysterious but fiery eyes. There was no humor in them, only raw conviction. For a moment, the strong wind was all that spoke. Finally, Nafretiri cocked her head to one side, her face a mask of quizzical confusion. "I thank you Syaoran, though I must admit, I do wonder why you would allow me to do such a thing."

There was a knot of fear in her gut. How foolish it was that she, who had taken more lives than more vampires ever would, was afraid of the humans. More importantly, she was afraid of their weapons. She had no idea what great technological advances had taken place during this era, but in her heart, she knew that if humans threatened those she held dear, she would show them why she was named Sekhmet. She could kill without leaving a trace.

~ Syaoran stared deeply into her eyes, almost sensing what went on in her mind. But those fiery windows hid his own battle within, his own termoil.

'I mean not to be cowardly, I mean only until we are truly threatened. Until they seek to destroy us. For I will not die again without a fight being fought on my count.' Syaoran nodded after stating this. The Wolf was not about to roll over in defeat.
'This world, these times are more to my liking. I feel so at home here. It would be a shame to destroy what I have come to love in my own tainted way.' A cynical smile twisted his pale pink lips.
'But I agree with you...what little we have close to us, we must defend to the end.' He had not read her thoughts, but a feeling of knowing had made him state it. Once more he turned to the eerie lights below.

"Nor will I," agreed Nafretiri quietly. She folded her hands on her lap, staring out into the orange tinted night. "Though I hope it does not come to that. I have killed too many in my day." This, of course, was an understatement. Barely a century old, and she'd slaughtered half of Egypt. Just the memory of it made her shudder. If she could do that so young, what would she be able to accomplish now? One could only imagine.

She gave a bitter chuckle. "I feel quite out of place in these times. I love this world, and yet I hate it as well. Odd, isn't it? So much has changed from my era." There was a moment of silence, before she once again turned to Syaoran. "You still have not answered my question. Why is it that you would offer me such a grand thing? We are not very well acquainted, and yet you are being so generous. Why?"

~ Syaoran stared out at the world unblinkingly. His mind was twisting and turning trying to sovle its self but every time it tried, it failed. The ancient sighed and looked down at the one beside.

'You too are an ancient. We, the old ones, must remain together if we wish to survive through such times as those to come.' With that said he turned away, again losing himself in his thoughts that so often drew him away from the world.

She watched him, and could tell even without reading his thoughts that his mind was elsewhere. Nafretiri felt for him, though she did not know why. Perhaps because he reminded her so much of herself before she had reinvented herself. There is only so long one can remain cold and aloof. Nafretiri had stayed that way until it had almost destroyed her. That was no existence for three thousand years.

"Then, again, I thank you," nodded Nafretiri. The wind blew again, howling in her ears. "What clouds your mind so?" she inquired, cocking her head to the side. It was a question that just seemed to pop out of her mouth. Almost at once, her mouth formed into an 'o' and she placed a hand over it. "Please, forgive me. I did not mean to intrude upon your musings."

~ The ancient glanced at her through the corner of his eye.

'Musings?' He asked, a light chuckled sounding in his throat. 'None have ever called my thoughts musings.' After a while he shrugged. 'And think not of it. What plagues my mind is just a mystery to me as it is to others.' Syaoran gave a defeated sigh before seating himself down next to her, letting one leg dangle over the edge while his proped up knee provided a rest for his arm. He breathed deeply, yet the sound was a quiet one. He gave a slight tug at the sleeve of his loose button up white shirt thoughtlessly and continued his watching of the bustle below. 'You need not thank me, My Lady.' He spoke after a long pause. His eyes shone with a strange hidden emotion that not even he could place.

He was indeed an enigma. There was no one word to describe this man, and Nafretiri didn't even bother to try. It was possible that even if she were to spend a significant amount of time with him, she would come no closer to understanding him. It intrigued her, and it had been a long time since one lone individual had done that.

"I do need to thank you," insisted Nafretiri, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her face was a look of pure resolve. "It is a very generous offer. It would leave me mal at ease if I were simply to accept and move on." Her frown deepened, though there was a slight quirk of her mouth. "And I thought I asked you not to use titles with me. Nafretiri is my name, or has been for quite some time, and I expect you to use it."

~ Syaoran looked her square in the eye, for once accepting the touch of another. His eyes burned deeply, the fire within dancing through his irises like a flame caught in the wind.

'Your choice is purely your choice and I shall accept it either way.' His face was solemn, hidding away his emotions that his eyes pray tell so often. 'I respect you, Nafretiri...and you are more wise than I. That is why I speak to you with a title. Because it is my custom, because of Honour and because of my respect for you.' His eyes flared and glowed unnaturally. What ever he was feeling...he felt strongly about it.

Nafretiri was taken aback by the sheer emotion she saw in his eyes. Throughout her long life, she'd seen many men with captivating eyes, but there was something about this particular man's that touched her. Perhaps it was the sheer force of what he felt. She did not know.

"How could I decline such an offer?" inquired Nafretiri with a small smile. Her dark eyes twinkled mysteriously. At his next words, she gave a soft laugh and added with a shake of her head, "You need not respect me. I deserve no such respect. Just because I have seen many things, does not make me wise. I feel I still have much to learn. I have a feeling that you know much more than I."

She did not look away when she saw his eyes glowing, but she wondered what could have caused such a phenomenon to occur. Her own eyes gazed unblinkingly into his.

~ Syaoran watched her reactions with interest, yet still his face did not show it.

'Please, do not be so modest.' His voice was calm, and almost sensual, though he meant not for it to be. 'And I really do not understand what you mean...' It was true, Syaoran had no concept of what she meant, had he pressured her?

((OOC: I know the answer is no but I'm not gonna tell Syaoran that. ^__^

Syaoran: I heard that.

O_O Crap!))

Again, Nafretiri gave a soft laugh at his words. "Syaoran, if there is one thing you must know about me, it's that I am hardly ever modest. I know my strengths, and I know of my supposed beauty, and I use these. Now, as for respect..." She trailed off, avoiding his eyes. "Respect is something I do not deserve, no matter how ancient I may be. " There was a quirk of the lips at this statement. "I have done no great deeds in my life that have been remembered, and the ones that have been..." She lowered her gaze, suddenly finding her fingers quite interesting. "The ones that have been remembered still make me cringe."

"As for you, I am sure you have done great things in your life," Nafretiri continued, with a look that seemed almost proud, but wasn't. "You live your life by honour, something that I have had no grasp upon as of late. If I had had it... horrible things would not have come to pass." There was a deep sigh. "That is why you deserve respect, and I do not. You are a much better being than I."

~ Syaoran threw back his head and let out a harsh, hollow laugh.

'I?' He looked over at her, a cynical smirk planted on his face. 'I have done no great deeds. I have been a puppet for some...and a toy for others. Tell me, what respect have I earned by fufilling the will of another?!' Syaoran's eyes were ablaze with anger and hatred...but it seemed more directed at himself. Those flames danced wildly, yet he tried so hard to not to let his anger consume him. But the battle within would never be shown to another. The warrior would hide it, and pray one day his will would be enough to force its departure from his soul.

After realising his outburst, Syaoran lowered his head in shame.
'Forgive me...I should not have reacted like that.' He apologised, his voice barely a whisper. 'But I am no warrior of purity or justice...I have done horrible things...'

And have had horrible things done to me... His thoughts mused, as the images of what his mentor did to him found their way into his mind. Syaoran narrowed his eyes and forced them away. Things like that were better left forgotten.

Nafretiri flinched slightly at Syaoran's outburst. Whatever it was that she'd expected, this certainly was not it. Her annoyance grew. "And you think that I have not been used by others?" Her arms wrapped around her upper body in some manner of protection and comfort. It was not often she talked about her past with others. There had only been one other in this city in whom she had confided. Her eyes darkened, and there was a deep sadness within them. "I never asked nor wanted this existence of mine."

She nodded her head, not at him, though it was clear that that's what she had intended. "Forgive me as well. Memories of my past cloud my judgement." A lone tear rolled down her face, but was quickly wiped away by her hand. She sincerely hoped that he did not see it. "I mean you no disrespect Syaoran, but I have gone down in legend as one of the most bloodthirsty beings to ever roam my land. It... it is still hard of me to think of those time - or the one who made me - without an immense feeling of repulsion."

~ Syaoran gasped for air, realising for that time he had been holding his breath. Something inside him yelled for him to just get up and leave while another told him to stay.

'Do forgive me.' He whispered, placing a hand on Nafretiri's shoulder. For a vampire, his hand was strangely warm. The ancient blocked the nagging voice that told him to ignore her and leave, and decided on soully comforting her. It was a strange, new experience, but it felt right all the same. 'It is time we forget about the dreads of the past...and move on to what can redemn us.' He, for once, sounded so gentle and kind. His eyes glowed with a soft ressovle, though half lidded, they were still something to behold. 'I know too well that it is difficult to think we are capable of being forgiven...but we can.' A slight smile caught his lips before he turned back to the veiw, and quietly, he began to sing gently to himself. His voice was soft and well tuned.

((OOC: Does that sound corny? By the way, he's sing My December by Linkin Park...heard of it? It's a really pretty song! -^^-))

Syaoran mimicked the gesture she had done herself only moments before. She looked up at him with apprehension, before her face faded into a soft smile of companionship. "I have already forgiven you." His unnaturally warm hand spread a warmth through her being, an she placed her soft, cool one on top of his. What was this feeling of right? She felt at ease in his presence, and that had hardly ever happened in her lifetime, and even more rare did it happen with a man.

"You are right, of course," agreed Nafretiri with a small nod of her head. "But the injustices will be hard to forget, both those done to me, and the ones that I did myself." His eyes were very beautiful, and if he heard that, she would feel most awkward. Not embarrassed, no, she never felt that particular emotion. And his smile... he looked good when he smiled. Closing her eyes, Nafretiri let his singing float to her ears. Without even realizing she was doing so, she grasped his hand a little tighter.

~ Syaoran closed his eyes, and did not trouble himself with the thought she was holding his hand. Infact, he liked her company. The ancient continued his singing. It was a song of these times but he loved it none-of-the-less. For the first time his tense body relaxed and he let his gaurd. For the very first time in his existance...he wasn't glancing over his shoulder.

((OOC: Short I know...I'm sorry.))

The song truly seemed to capture what she was feeling. Nafretiri guessed that it was of this age, as she had not heard of it, and singing in particular was the music of choice in these years. It was beautiful nevertheless, and there was a deep pain in her to realize all that she had missed by keeping to herself. Why, she didn't even own a radio. By all accounts, she'd been living as a hermit.

There was some strange comfort to be had with the man next to her. How very different they were, and yet how alike. She felt a kinship with him that she had not felt... ever. Or at least that she could recall. There may have perhaps been one in her three thousand years, but it eluded her now. Her eyes downcast, her smile soft, she said softly, "Thank you for joining me here."

~ Syaoran stopped his singing and looked at his companion. He shook his head lightly, his long silky chestnut bangs brushing his lips and jaw-line.

'I should more be thanking you...I believed it was going to be another one of THOSE nights.' The ancient suppressed a chuckle. He let out a eased breath, it was almost a sigh. 'You have changed since we last met.' Syaoran stated quietly, before looking back at the lights. The breeze caught his wild hair and blew it from his face. He gingerly reached up and fiddled with the cross the hung from his left ear, ignoring the burning sensation it caused.

Nafretiri looked at him, before again looking down. Quietly, she said, "So you had noticed." There was a pause, and she seemed to try and decide what to say. Finally, she came up with this. "The last time we met... I-I had been reverting to my old ways, ways that were not kind. I was turning back into the very thing I spent eternity trying to avoid... I was turning back into Sekhmet." She did not elaborate on this name, but the tone in which she said it was ominous, so even if he did not know the legend, he would know that this was not someone that Nafretiri wished to be.

The wind picked up, and her waves of hair were strewn about her face. With a gentle hand, she caught some and pushed it behind her ear. Still, she did not look at him, but she felt that she must say what was on her mind. "I do not mean to be forthcoming, but with you... I feel a peace. It has been long since I have had such a peace, if ever." While she did not turn to see his reaction, her dark eyes moved to the city, and the orange reflection was cast into them, making them seem all the more mysterious. "I do not know why, but... I am enjoying it." There was no blush on her face, and it was said merely as a statement, though there was an undercurrent of admiration in her voice.

~ Syaoran looked over at her. There was no shock shown on his features, just a gentle, calmness about him.

'And I also.' He said wistfully. 'I for one, am glad that you have pulled yourself away from the dark path and moved more toward the light...If only I could follow.' He whispered the last part to himself. He was the Wolf, after all...He too had a legend bound to him. A cold, ruthless killer and the finest warrior. The Wolf was what they said he was...a lone hunter, who was silent and more dangerous than they originally thought. Not even a thousand men could defeat him and he stood as a reminder of that. But now the Wolf had no battles to fight, and his urge and want for the battlefield has grown more than his hunger when he did not feed for a month. Syaoran sighed at the thought...missing the thrill of a war. A warrior left to wait for another battle to rise.

Abruptly, Nafretiri's head turned to him, shock and worry on her features. He was going through what she had, and it seemed to be a mighty burden on him. Her expression leading not to pity, but to understanding. Keeping a firm but gentle grasp on his hand, she stood up in one languid gesture. With silent steps, she walked the few paces that seperated the two of them. Weaving her fingers in with his own on the hand that she held, she put the other on his cheek and made him look at her, her eyes into his.

"I know the path you walk," whispered Nafretiri, her eyes compasionate. "For I too have walked it for so long. I know what it is you feel. While I do not know what you have done, it cannot be any worse than what I have done. I made the streets of Egypt run red with blood of innocents. There is none who can understand as I can."

~ Syaoran wanted break down and cry...he wanted to babble all of the anger and all of the wrongs ever done. But he remained strong.

'Thank you...for understanding...' He whispered. Slowly, he closed his eyes, feeling completely relaxed and comfortable with Nafretiri's touch. 'Thank you...' The ancient repeated in a breath of a voice.

Nafretiri smiled at him. Unlike with Gabriel, this smile was in no way maternal. The other had been young, like a child in comparison to her age. Syaoran, though more than a millenia younger, seemed like her equal due to the things they had both gone through. "You need not thank me," she whispered back, her fingers carressing his cheek for a moment.

She did not know what possesed, for she had never actually done such a thing, but in a moment of pure peace, she simply rested her head on the chest of the man in front of her.

~ Syaoran at first flinched...he had never had so much physical contact. But he soon forgot his thoughts of keeping away from others and wrapped his arms around the other. Again he felt warm...like he was living again. But his mind was too relaxed to think about it and he found himself resting his head on her shoulder, feeling oddly right.

Syaoran flinched, and Nafretiri squeezed her eyes shut, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Would he push her away, like she'd been pushed away almost four centuries ago? She wasn't sure if she could have him do it and still maintain face in front of him. So many bad memories. It was half the reason why she hadn't become this close to a man in so many years. After Tarek - her maker - had abused her for oh so long, it took two thousand years before she fell in love... and the object of her affections had pushed her away, disgusted. The pain had never really left, from either of the wounds.

She let out a breath she hadn't know she'd been holding when his arms slowly wrapped around her. She felt safe with him. He placed head on her shoulder, and she felt ready to weep tears. Why, she didn't know. It wasn't for the sake of sadness, that's for certain. Perhaps because she'd attained something after waiting so long.

~ Syaoran breathed in deeply, taking her scent. He felt so wanted, not a hated creature. Again he whispered "thankyou"...his lips brushing her neck unintensionally. She was the first ever to really break down his walls, and for that...he was thankfull. He wanted to tell everything that had happened to him, but a fear of her being disgusted with him churned his stomach. So the ancient decided against it. Instead he let himself be lost in the embrace of the other.

"You need not thank me," murmured Nafretiri, giving a slight shake of her head. Her small hands grasped his shirt, and she relished in his smell. She felt special, something she could claim that she'd never felt before. An involuntarily shudder moved her body as his lips brushed against her neck. He was different than the other two in more ways that she could possibly describe, and she did not wish to lose the moment.

But there was something on his mind. She did not need to read his mind in order to feel it. Such was the curse of telepathy. No matter how hard you tried to block it out, sometimes it came without consent. Moving back slightly, she placed both hands on his face. "What troubles your mind? Have no fear. I will not judge the man you were. I fear I like the man you are too much for such a thing.

~ Syaoran looked away, his eyes narrowed.

'Memories...' He growled. The ancient squeezed his fists closed, until his palm bleed from his nails digging into his skin. 'Something happened before I was turned...Something I should forget, but I can not.' His body started to tremble with anger and his eyes were again ablaze, glowing in the night's dimness. 'I do not wish to speak of it......' He paused and looked up. 'But I may be able to show you.' Syaoran grasped her hand tightly and thought only of what happened then...

"You are too rebellious for your own good, Little Wolf..." Fifteen year-old Syaoran did not reply to his mentor's words as he watched the man pace back and forth in front of him. "And yet, we have tried everything to break you!" Lang, his mentor, exclaimed. He turned and faced the young warrior, halting his ever annoying pacing. "Perhaps...not everything." Again, Syaoran did not respond...But he did not miss the malicous gleam in his mentor's eyes. Lang had always taken a sick pleasure in Syaoran's punishments. There would be no exception this time...but the knots in the boy's stomach tried to tell him other wise.

Once again, Syaoran found himself chained to a wall...like so many times before. Five hundred slashes on his back would not change a thing. Yet, this time he had been stripped bare...perhaps to bruise his pride? May be...But he couldn't assume things so soon.

At first, it was the same. The same punishment he had recieved for his mistakes. But Lang had decided to do a little art on the young warriors back. Through out the intire time, Syaoran had been silent, as if he didn't feel the pain. But in truth, it was excruciating. An hour ticked by, before Lang spoke. "Tell me, Little Wolf...what is an angel with out his wings?" Syaoran did not reply. His stomach started to lurch and knot again. The sound of fabric hitting the floor filled his ears and a sharp pain shot through him. Then a wave of repulsion hit him hard. Lang was raping him. Syaoran balled his fists and clenched his jaw. No...he wouldn't scream...he wouldn't give that bastard the satisfaction of hearing him yell out in agony.

With the punishment done...Syaoran was released. He dropped to the floor and pushed himself to the wall, curling up to hide his broken, used body. There he was left...to bleed and suffer. Part of him died that day...but something else was born.

Syaoran released her hand and turned away from her. He wanted to throw up now, just thinking of what Lang had done to him.

'And yet...after that...I still served my clan.' Syaoran spat. 'I killed many for them...I was nothing but their puppet. And it was no better when I was turned. I went about destroying whole villages at a time. Just because I WANTED to watch those people die...To watch someone other than myself suffer.' No one was there to comfort him. No one could. Through out his whole life he had been used and tortured. Not once was he a child...he always had to be a man. He had become something he hated, and he couldn't change it. Syaoran stood waiting for the insults, for Nafretiri to walk away, disgusted by him. It would be another scar to him, to his soul. Not many knew it, but Syaoran had wings cut into his back. The scars were still there...Lang had given him wings...only to mock him.

Nafretiri felt Syaoran's memories wash over her, and was appalled to see just what he had been carrying around. So much anguish and pain. He had long since turned away from her. She said nothing, and would not let the tears that wished to flow flow for his sake. Instead, she walked forward, and, placing her hands on his shoulders, pressed her head against his back. "You have shown me a deep and painful memory," she said at last. "It is time that I shared one of my own."

"Do you love me?"

Nafretiri, looking much the same as she did now, only in the ancient garb of the priestess, looked up shocked at the man who held her in his arms. It was forbidden... she shouldn't be with him, but... "Yes." It was said with no hesitation, her eyes full of conviction.

There was a smirk from the pain. "Good."

He descended upon her... There was pain, oh so much pain. Tears sprung to her eyes, smudghing the kohl around her eyes, before darkness. She awoke in a small room. She did not recognize it. One hand gingerly touched her wound on her neck. The door opened, and Nafretiri sprung from the bed, looking at the man she had loved expectantly. He took one look at her, and collected a small bundle - her treasures of gold from priestesshood, Nafretiri realized. As he turned to leave, he called over his shoulder:

"You're a creature of the night now. Feed on those you once loved if you wish to survive."

Nafretiri did feed. It showed her feeble attempt at an old woman. The kill was messy, and untrained as she tried to do what he had done the night previous. Slinking back home, she wept. This continued for a fortnight until, without warning, her sire returned. He grabbed her by the arm. Nafretiri's small hands tried to beat against him, but he laughed and threw her on the bed. Not once did she stop fighting, not when her shift was ripped, nor when he finally did the act. Her insolence earned her a beating.

The next scenes were different. They showed Nafretiri prowling the streets garbed in black, blood sloshing under feet. She walked into another house. There was only a woman and five children in this one. She killed the mother first, with ease, then the children. The last to die was the newborn that had been asleep. Without a second thought, she dropped it after it had been drained to the last.

Not in so many years had she relived these moments to intimately, and slow, silent tears began to pour down her face. Mentally, she chastied herself for being so weak. "You see? You are not the only one who has done horrible things. I killed many, for they were what I could never be again. I still wish for your companionship, if you will still have me after all that I've shown you." She closed her eyes, feeling the wetness of her tears stain his shirt.

~ Syaoran slipped away from her and turned around. His eyes were cold and filled with rage.

'Does he still walk the living realm?!' The ancient warrior demanded, those fiery windows wild with anger. He took Nafretiri into his arms. 'Tell me...and I will make him wish of a second death!' The stoic vampire looked down at her while wiping away the tears. He held her dear, close to his no longer beating heart as his mind plotted what terrible things he could inflict upon the one who had harmed such a beautiful creature as Nafretiri. Yes...if this Vampire still existed...he would no longer wish of it once the Wolf had gotten to him.

At first, when Syaoran turned around and Nafretiri saw the rage in his eyes, she looked down. It was obvious that she should have expected as much. All that she had done had been told, and he now found her a monster. He was repulsed that she had killed so many, as he should be. She herself had never quite recovered from it. It was a horrid, horrid thing, and never should she have expected him to merely accept them.

It was to her great surprise then, when the question errupted from his lips and he pulled her near. A great joy filled her, undescribable. His hands were soft on her face, and she saw that the anger was not towards her, but towards her maker. With a half sob half giggle, she shook her head. "No, no he is no longer on this earth. I killed him after... after he went too far... Three centuries later." Dark eyes downcast, they filled with an immense pain, but there was also a sparkle of satisfaction within them.

~ Syaoran sighed with relief. Part of him was glad to hear it...though something else was extremely disappointed. He would have clicked his fingers and said "darn" it was that bad. But in a way it was rather humourous.

Quietly, he took Nafretiri's face in his hands and made her look him in the eye.

'No...do not believe I will leave you for the past. I will not hurt you. I will defend you with all the might I possibly could. So you can be safe and happy.'