[attr="class","illie i]he breathes out sighs and she's allowing her eyes to flutter shut, to attempt to quell the emotions that run rampant beneath her skin. it's difficult to control them, to keep them at bay. a hand rises to pinch at the bridge of her nose as if her sinuses could really put a halt to the feelings she has. it won't and a moment later, her hand retreats, falling back to her side.

"you're right," she mutters and it shouldn't feel like defeat but it does. he's simply providing sound reasoning that she shouldn't spit on but there's always a degree of difficulty with accepting it. while it comes from a good place, the voice of reason doesn't always quell anger. sometimes, it merely fuels it.

illeana breathes out a sigh into the silence only for it to fade out of existence a moment later. her eyes abandon their focused spot on the damp wall to find his as he turns to look at her. the expression he wears effectively knocks most of the wind out of her heightened emotions until she's almost crumbling. concern morphs his features and from where she's standing, she can recognize the realness of it all. and somehow, it stings a little with a pain she doesn't understand.

"i know," she murmurs and part of her wants to close the distance between them, the wide gap that shouldn't belong. and yet, she stays rooted in place, almost as if she's afraid of what will happen if she does. "i've survived worse." what's more scars? at least those wouldn't be embedded into her skin with abuse, neglect, failure. her eyes begin to avoid his again as if they expect him to display open disappointment at her answer. her gaze settles onto the floor but she continues anyway. "i wouldn't want to put others through that, though. especially not you."

[attr="class","illie i]when her eyes find his, she's caught off guard by the lack of what she expected. instead of disappointment lies empathy, understanding, even comfort if she stares long enough. it disarms her enough for what he whispers next to fully leave a mark.

the gasp that leaves her is soft but it echoes, bouncing from wall to wall.

and that's all she needs to shift into movement, to finally cross over that distance between them. the pain seems to ebb away with each step she takes until she's reaching for him, bottom lip wobbling with barely contained emotion. "i," she tries and words don't line up right, don't place themselves into a sentence that she can even utter. instead, she's falling back into silence and the weight of his admittance presses against her shoulders. if she acts on her emotions, if she lets them guide her into darkness... she'll be doing nothing more than hurting him.

the realization has her crumbling.

"you won't have to," she breathes. and while her mouth opens to make promises she doesn't truly know if she can keep, the buzzing of his phone shuts it with the clicking of teeth. five minutes out. a soft sigh escapes and she's pulling away with a hand running through her hair. flammae shifts to her side without hesitation, crimson eyes only lingering on alexander for a moment. "should we wait outside?"

[attr="class","illie i]the contact leaves as quickly as it comes but the comfort it brings settles with no intention of fading. his breath of relief is matched with her own, breathed softly into his chest before she's untucking herself from him and adding that distance back into the fold. her hand brushes against his anyway, as if her emotions won't allow her to stay away for long.

"okay," she murmurs. the climb out of the basement is quick, quicker than it had been to even get down there in the first place. maybe it's the images of what lies down there that increases her steps, her hurry.

and then, she's gulping down the fresh air outside as if she's never been beyond the walls of that building. the forensic team gets to work, conducts their investigation, solidifies the findings. and somewhere within the wait, she finds her foot tapping against concrete with this incessant need to move. to do something, anything, to give an output for the pent up feelings.

it doesn't dawn on her that there's a crawling sensation to her skin. like someone's watching, waiting, holding in position for an opportunity they'll soon receive. she's oblivious to the figures that lurk in shadows, that lie above on tops of buildings, and maybe that's what ruins her.

[attr="class","illie i]illeana reyes lives perpetually in a false sense of security. even with the things she's been through, the nightmares experienced, it still doesn't darken the view she has. and perhaps that's what makes her such easy prey.

she doesn't see the threat looming until she turns, until she grasps the concept that alexander is rooted against the wall. shadows snake around his body, forming a makeshift prison. a gasp escapes and she's trying to step toward him, trying to reach him but she doesn't make it. instead, she's met with a different body. one made of feathers and looking a little too menacing for her liking. flammae bristles and opens her mouth to unleash a FLAMETHROWER. and despite the action, despite the attempt at protecting themselves, it still falls short.

a figure comes from behind and while apex predators have their eyes positioned to look in front of them, it always leaves their backs wide open.

her eyes connect with alexander's just as the strike comes. a shriek, a thud, and the pooling of blood against concrete comes a moment later and the ninetales that had been at her legs is shoved away by force. the fox tumbles toward alex, snarling and struggling to regain her barrings. her trainer's in danger, unconscious and limp against the ground. perhaps that's what prompts her to lunge back at the figure, sharp teeth already bared and out for blood.

[attr="class","illie i]blood pools beneath her body, spreading and staining against concrete. and while vital organs were missed, the amount of liquid is concerning. well, it would be alarming for the woman if she were actually conscious to see it or even feel it for that matter. instead, she's met with concrete smashing into the side of her head, all but knocking out all of the lights in her mind. a home with no light, shutters drawn shut. her chest still rises with the telltale signs of breathing but for how long?

flammae snarls, teeth digging into the decidueye without hesitation. from such a close proximity, another FLAMETHROWER would be scarring. and yet, the fox doesn't care. instead, she digs her fangs deeper, jaw almost unhinged and already spewing flames.

and while the fox is distracted and alexander drops to his knees beside illeana's unconscious body, a man begins to step out from the shadows. the laughter that follows is chilling to the bone, nauseating and grating on the ears. "i thought professors were supposed to be stronger than that," somehow, his voice is worse than his laugh. it's deep and coarse, like a man who readily smokes two packs of cigarettes a day. the man drifts closer while his decidueye struggles to overcome the challenge flammae presents.

"oh, and a former champion!" another laugh follows and then, he's clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "to think our scraps would net us such big prizes."

[attr="class","illie i]minutes feel like hours until she finally comes to. there's a gasp and a jerk and then a groan all at once, one rushing to follow the other. by then, the man's body is already lifeless and out of her sights, long gone and never returning. instead, she's greeted with an expression she can't read, one that's still a little blurry. she blinks once, twice, thrice until spots fade from her vision and she can make out enough to understand.

"alex," she breathes. a wince follows and oh god, her head is pounding. she tries to raise a hand to it but the movement is shaky and her fingers barely graze a temple before retreating. they're sticky and wet, a sensation that sends her skin crawling.

and with it comes the rest, each feeling rushing in and overwhelming her. first it's numb and then, like wildfire, pain spreads. another gasp escapes and her face twists with something akin to agony. "fuck," she hisses. the pressure on her side is effective against the bleeding but it does little to quell the way it feels like her skin is burning at the seams. searing pain spreads and it almost dulls the ache of her head, the way the streetlights hurt to even look at.

she whimpers, chest heaving when panic finally settles in. are they still in danger? what's going on? this can't be an end. not yet, not now. a hand scrambles to find his, to find comfort despite the mess of blood around them. she's acutely aware of the ball of fur at her side, pressing where his hands are as if between the two of them, they can keep her from bleeding out onto the concrete. somehow, it brings hot tears to her eyes and she's sniffling. "i -- i'm okay," it comes out hoarse, trembling with uncertainty.

[attr="class","illie i]her nose scrunches in an attempt to focus on him and words and not the metallic scent that clings in the air or the searing pain in her side. but it's hot and it burns and it's too much to ignore. commotion happens around them as the forensic team join them outside. and yet, she's struggling to just focus on him and him alone to pay them much mind.

the grip she has on his hand is almost suffocating, almost tight enough to bruise. it's terrified and overwhelmed and agonized, every inch of what she's feeling currently being channeled into his hand. a nod follows, sluggish and careful as if her brain might burst if she moves her head too quickly. help is coming. somehow, it doesn't bring enough relief for her to relax.

and perhaps what she sees next makes relaxation even harder. first it's a flash of glinting steel, stained crimson and still slightly dripping. he shifts into her line of sight but her eyes dart anyway. and while he tries to shield her from what lies beyond them, from the damage that's been done, the urge to see is overwhelming. "what," she has to pause, has to remember to breathe through the pain the erupts when she tries to shift. a hiss of air escapes and she continues anyway. "what's that?"

pieces click together when she finally manages to whimper and move enough to peek around his shoulder. bodies lay limp and lifeless, half masked by shadows. even from her position, she can see the fatal blow across a throat. her body stills slightly as if chilled, as if the sight of a dead body is enough to immobilize her. and when her eyes dart back to him, more tears springing to her waterlines, she sees it again. the bloody blade. "what happened?" there's a question in between the two words, hidden because she doesn't want to ask, because she's afraid of what the answer will be.