In the shadows of Viorar, a different kind of darkness crept. This darkness lay everywhere, actually, but other towns and cities had their guardians from these specific breeds of darkness, and this city's 'guardian,' which those very few who had physically seen her in the past dubbed 'The Silver Siren,' had mysteriously disappeared and not been seen nor heard for the better part of four days. Business around and about the town had continued as usual, but a small vestige of unrest had grown through the city in some of the more-outlying sections where these creatures were known to strike. In truth, certain emotionally-traumatic incidents had risen over these last few days as well, not the least of which included increased suicide rates. People who were in the know of this kept to themselves and hoped for the best, but it was an unsettling four days for those who didn't.

However, in the span of a single day following, everything seemed to clear itself up. Nobody saw the presumed reason why, and if their guardian had returned, she was taking great pains to make herself invisible to the public eye. But all the same, these 'gifts' from the darkness began to curb and become culled, occasionally-bloodied residuals being left behind in the back alleyways as indications of this guard's presence at one time or another. Things returned to normal for most, but those who knew this guardian on a personal level were still at unease, not knowing what had happened or why, during those days of absence.

It just so happened, then, in the mid-nighttime hours of this fifth day, a swirling purple gateway opened itself against one of the darker alleys at the furthest back end of Viorar's southeastern section, and a particular siren wearing ripped-apart gothic-lolita-style clothes and bearing harsh silver eyes stepped forth from it, still holding a chunk of what looked like something's spinal column tightly in her right hand, black blood dripping profusely down the length of its vertebrae. She stopped just outside of this portal, which closed quickly and simply behind her with no real fanfare, casting a feral gaze about her disilluminated surroundings. Around her neck hung a black chain that held a twisted, bent sword-shaped emblem of black iron, oddly ominous yet fitting with the rest of her disheveled attire.

Greeting this siren upon her arrival was a small creature best-describe as a small white cat with strange red markings in various placements upon its body, as well as two long, floppy appendages that seemed to extend out of its ears and were encompassed by floating gold rings along the length of each one. It regarded the approaching woman with an odd combination of boredom and expectation, like someone who had been waiting too long for something simple that should not have taken as long as it had.

Without a word, Mollianne halfheartedly tossed the bloodied spine on the ground in front of the white creature, glancing down at the residual blood left on her hand and... carefully licking it off, one finger at a time. At this point, it becomes noticeable that her other hand is holding some sort of black crystal, which glints somewhat in the minimal light being afford this end of Viorar.

The cat-thing's eyes shift downward at the skeletal residuals desposited in front of it, then back up at the siren with no change in expression. "That's equal parts disgusting and childish," he said, in what should have been a scolding but had no 'scolding' tone to it at all, "and not at all what I want. You know that."

The girl ignored the cat-creature-thing as she indulged herself in the morbid act of cleaning her hand, but after doing so, she took a moment to bring the black crystal in her other hand around behind her head, doing... something, with it. A soft glow illuminated the back of her hairline briefly before it faded, and she brought the crystal back around, frowning down at Kyuubei as she reached out and basically tossed the object at him, as if he had the means to catch it.

Though he does not have the physical means to catch the shiny object, Kyuubei has other tricks up his pelt. As it is tossed at him, he positions himself such that the crystal would land in his back, at which point a teardrop-shaped red marking would glow and cause the fur within it to ripple and distort, not unlike a portal locally opening upon his backside. The crystal drops down 'into' him as a result of this, whereupon he goes back into a seated position as he'd been before, his skin returning to normal. "I'm guessing not," he said, looking up at Mollianne's face with his expressionless red eyes, "but has anyone ever told you that you're allowed to do things the 'normal' way? Not everyone requires a show or presentation for everything you do, least of all myself." Kyuubei's appendages lift slightly, as if in interest. "How you deal with them is your call, and far be it from me to deny your results, but I simply believe you could stand to be less... 'grotesque,' as it were, about the whole endeavor."

A crooked smirk fashioned itself onto the siren's face at Kyuubei's comment. "My 'methods' are what allow me to achieve those results," she retorted, her voice echoing with a distinct vibration. "I know you do not care about what happens to me, but I would rather be in and out with as little fanfare as possible, and that means being decidedly crude or vicious." She looks down at the partial spine on the ground, and her smirk grows. "On the other hand, it is strangely difficult to restrain my desire to play with my food once it has been brought to heel. Such things you will simply have to deal with, so long as I continue to be around." She raised her eyes, toward Kyuubei specifically. "If you do not like it, that is tough. But at least you get what you want, and a 'thank you' would be nice, once in a while, too."

"It would seem that we are at an agreeable disagreement, I suppose," he says, standing up on all fours. "I will concede, at least, that you are correct in assuming that I am only interested in conclusive results. I suppose I should not care how you achieve them, it merely confuses me that your methods are as brutal as they are. No small shortage of the others at least show some small empathy for the knowledge that they were, at one point, not unlike themselves. Do you not share this viewpoint?"

"I do not," Mollianne answered quickly. "The fact that they fell this easily means they were not meant to be Wishborn in the first place." She flexes one of her hands, bits of purple electricity still arcing between her fingers thereupon. "I have people to protect who still have lives to lead, and I cannot, and will not, let blind compassion be my downfall when the bell tolls accordingly." Her expression falters, a rogue memory filtering in. "It has happened enough times already, and while I am not prone to learning lessons easily, that is one that I have taken to heart."

Kyuubei's eyes regard Mollianne in silence for a moment or three before he responds. "An ignoble response to a noble prospect," he muses. "Such as it is, and I won't get in your way. So long as you draw breath, I will continue to expect great things from you, and for that, at least, you have my thanks." Kyuubei turns, then, and proceeds to meander off into the darkness without so much as a glance back.

Mollianne watches Kyuubei depart, not saying anything until he's well out of sight. "Better than nothing, I guess," she said with an agitated snort. Gesturing loosely, a dull light overtakes the siren's form as her visage cracks and splits apart, frozen in place momentarily before those pieces of 'herself' begin to chip and break away, scattering into motes of sparkling lights until they dissolve completely, leaving her otherwise-docile self behind along the standard chestband and ragged teal skirt, and the erstwhile aggression no longer present in her eyes or stance. The frown still remains, though, as she glances upon the morbid reminder of her recent victory nearby.

With a small sigh, she opted to simply sit down on the ground, and as she does, a small flash of blue light heralded the re-arrival of her Soul Gem, reappearing on a thin cord around her neck and clinking together against the metallic amulet already present there. The contents of her jewel looked significantly better than it had in recent days, but was not entirely unpolluted. This would save her for at least a while longer, such that she could transition back into her regular patrol and hunting routine. Her life was saved, for the time being.

Not that it really, probably mattered a whole lot to anyone, in the broad span of things.

As her feathered behind found the pavement below, Mollianne hugged her knees up to her chest and gazed upon the bloodied spine a few feet away, her wings going somewhat limp and draping across the ground on either side of her. A thought struck her to check her phone after her prolonged absence, but that was quickly dashed when she remembered leaving it in her dressing room at the nightclub, prior to several events spanning the timeframe between then and now. And so she did nothing, instead, half a dozen thoughts spinning through her head but no desire to act upon any of them, at that moment.

The siren's large aquamarine eyes shifted at the occasional nearer-sounding vocale of people from a few streets over, but she remained where she was, allowing these voices to pass unimpeded into the night. Mollianne placed her chin down across the skirted fabric of her knees, ever-thoughtful of those great many things that had been, were, and may yet come to be. The lack of light in the darkest corners of Viorar hid her well from wandering eyes despite the subtle, soft blue glow of her Soul Gem, but nightfall in Viorar was as equally-lively as any other time of day, and the harmony of those boisterously enjoying the nightlife were constant distractions. She could track their distance just by sound alone, a gift for one of her kind, and at no point did she feel any presences nearer than tens of feet closer to the main thoroughfare of the city.

The mostly jovial sounds of nightlife are abruptly interrupted by a harsh, demanding shout. "Stop. STOP!" The sound of retreating footsteps can be heard from a few streets over, followed by another, heavier set in pursuit. "You are resisting arrest! Stop, immediately!"

A few shrieks, gasps, and shouts of alarm can be heard as the chase passes directly through a crowd. A sharp whistle blasts through the air, once, twice, followed by the voice being raised yet again. "Make way! Move aside!" Someone screams, and something heavy hits the ground, followed by someone swearing. Within a handful of seconds, the two sets of footsteps becomes one. After another thirty seconds, the second slows as well. The officer can be heard sternly questioning bystanders, but none of their answers seem to bring them closer to finding their quarry, no matter how many shady alleyways they peek down.

The sudden ruckus draws Mollianne's eyes in that direction, though her chin remains nestled within the short gap between her knees. Trusting the darkness to keep her hidden, she listens intently at the differing voices against the situation that is apparently unfolding, which... didn't surprise her. Crime wasn't exactly an uncommon thing in bigger cities, and, honestly, she probably had done a thing or two that wouldn't have put her on the law's better sides, either. Her irises follow along as the footsteps go one way and then another, and then grow quieter, before minimizing altogether and dissolving into the policeman's discouraged followup.

The faintest of smirks crosses her face at the fact that whoever it was managed to make a getaway, thinking that anyone that capable of escaping in the middle of a crowd probably deserved to get away. A little sigh exits through her nostrils as the lawman's attempts seem to fade into what she assumes is a 'I'll get 'em next time' situation, but on the other hand, she's glad they didn't poke their nose too far into the backways. A crowd wasn't really what she needed right now, which was... extremely disheartening to realize, given what and who she was. Any authorities attempting to question her may well have gotten enough snark that she might have been brought in for questioning or possible accessory, herself.

Within the span of a few minutes, the commotion dies down to, more or less, the same intensity that it had before. No doubt there's a bit of excitable gossip that will linger for a bit longer among anyone who witnessed the chase, but after briefly coaching a couple of concerned-seeming citizens, the on-duty officer departs, no doubt to file a report of some sort on the incident.

Eventually, Ava emerges from their chosen hiding spot. They look a touch less presentable than they usually do, their hair plastered to their forehead with sweat, and a light but very hard-to-miss splatter of blood runs down their face and across their body, drying slowly, and matching the light coating on their knuckles. They wait until eyes on the street are elsewhere to cross, making a beeline to the quieter parts of the city where they're less likely to be spotted.

They weave closer to the siren's location, making surprisingly little noise in spite of their heavy boots, but stop short of it at an adjacent street, stopping to lean against an abandoned-looking building and light up. Their hands shake slightly when they hold the lighter to the cigarette. The rogue's jaw is held stiffly, and though the expression on their face is more flat than not, the hard set to their eyes suggests a quietly simmering rage, just under the surface.

There's a slight shift in the wind, and it carries in Molly's direction the faint impression of vanilla.

Mollianne isn't as perceptive to things without a voice to match it to, and as such, the sound of the closing-in footsteps, faint or otherwise, causes her to shrink back a little ways against the building she already had her back to. The vanilla scent only alerts her further to the nearness in proximity of this individual, and she spends a moment wondering if she was actually going to get in trouble for being a potentially-unwanted witness.

Unfortunately, not all precautions are apparent to someone who is a bird from the waist-down, and some of these nuances cause issues when they aren't accounted for. The scooting of this siren's body back against the building's frame unintentionally drags her taloned feet loosely across the cobbled ground, and the light raking causes her to seize up with sudden alarm. The gasp that would've otherwise come out of her mouth, at last, is stifled when her own hand clamps over it.

Ava is far too on edge at the moment to miss the sound of scraping. They stop short, freezing in place with the cigarette still held near their mouth, eyes locked on the opening of the alley. They're very, very much not in the mood for surprises, or dealing with strangers right now. They could turn and leave the way they came, but they'd have to risk turning their back on a possible threat, and they're also sick of running, at the moment. The other hand slips towards the small of their back and rests there, and they speak, low but very clear. "Come out, real slow, and keep your hands where I can see them."

Despite voices being something she would ordinarily latch onto without any hesitation whatsoever, Mollianne's current predicament, mental state, and sudden paranoia at making a sound when she was trying incessantly not to be found or heard compromise this benefit, and it doesn't register to her at all who the voice belongs to, just that it knows she's there and that it sounds like it might be a threat. A quick flash of lost insight brought her to wonder why she came back to Viorar in the first place when she could've just stayed gone, and it actually occurred to her, just as quick, that she could just fly away. In fact, her wings twitched loosely at the idea, and as her heartbeat rose in pace, the urge to simply get up and flee rose along with it, except...

...that was exactly how her mother had been killed. What if they had a bow, or a firearm, or any other ranged armament? The irony of her being felled in the exact same way as her biological parent, some 14 years after-the-fact, was a bit of a fearful sticking point that forced her to remain grounded. She didn't know that it wasn't going to happen anyway, but if she complied with their command, maybe she could talk her way out of it. That, at least, was something she was decent at doing, most of the time.

With another, unintentional scrape of her feet against the stone-laden ground, Mollianne rose to her feet against the side of the building and lifted her arms up to about shoulder-height, splaying her fingers apart as she stepped out from the shadows. Her movements were slow, careful, and deliberate, everything that was asked of her...

...up until she accidentally catches her foot on the leftover chunk of bloodied spine that had been left on the ground nearby, which she had completely forgotten about. Her awkward footing knocks her off balance and despite her flailing, she trips and goes down right there in the middle of the street, landing on her stomach with an audible grunt of distress as the spinal section goes skittering off elsewhere into the alley. Her wings drape themselves over her fallen form, as if for some manner of ineffective protection against whatever trouble she's just gotten herself into.

All told, she's had better weeks.

Ava was very clear about the 'slow' part, and also in possession of a very twitchy finger at the moment. They come narrowly close to attacking on sight, because it'd be easy enough to mistake a sudden, uncontrolled movement for aggression. Fortunately, they register how awkward and clumsy the motions are before they spring into action. Their grip tightens on their weapon, but they don't draw. And in the next moment, they recognize the wings draped across the unfortunate siren. How could they not, when they've spent so much time admiring them, both up close and from afar?

"... Molly? Shit."

A bit of genuine surprise disrupts the coldness their voice formerly bore. They stand still for just a moment. This isn't a good time for a social visit, and they know it, but leaving their friend collapsed on the ground after possibly scaring the living daylights out of her is a level of assholery beyond even them. An aimless, deep-seated frustration gnaws at them. Trying to hold it in feels like swallowing a rock.

Ava carelessly tosses their cigarette to the side and crouches in front of the siren. "You hurt?" Their tone sounds... detached, almost empty, instead of concerned like their words would suggest, but the fact that they're checking on her suggests there must be some sincerity to them, even if their affect doesn't show it.

At such a close proximity, the unmistakable sound of soft, somewhat-restrained crying is readily apparent, to the tone of someone who just had the last card drawn from her deck and had nothing else to pull from when asked to do so. Mollianne hears the voice, then, and lifts her head up from beneath the inner down of her wings, which part slightly to allow her frazzled, auburn-haired self to peer out from between them. She makes it as far as Ava's chin without craning her neck back any further, and just lets out a pathetic little laugh amidst her tears, hardly believing the sudden stroke of luck against everything else that had transpired up to this point.

Of all the people it could have been, the one person above and beyond everyone else that she had actually wanted it to be, and there they were. And yet, at the same time... "Ah... dang," she managed, her voice cracking a little bit. "That was pretty... uncool of me, huh?" She's forcing a grin, still, despite the clear and broken distress painting the wetness in her eyes; the recognition is clear, and it's extremely apparent how glad she is to see them. She makes no moves to actually get up off the ground, though, simultaneously cursing and thanking her luck in equal amounts from the darkest backroads that Viorar had to offer.

This was... definitely not supposed to happen. Molly was not supposed to see them on a day like this, in a mood like this, when they're stretched and strained too far to put an effort into smoothing over their sharp edges.

She's just going to have to take whatever version of them she gets, Ava guesses. Not like there are many other options here.

"If you're trying to make being uncool into an art, you're doing a pretty good job."

They offer a hand out to her, turning their bloody knuckles towards the ground as they extend it. If she takes it, they'll at least pull her up off the ground, but they'll follow her lead on whether she wants to bother with standing fully, or just sit for a moment instead.

The remark does a pretty good job at helping her tears cease and her grin grow a bit broader, but it also could just be Ava being there, in general, offering to help her up, too; it's not extremely apparent in the situation she's currently in, but it is at least one or the other. Mollianne does accept the offered hand and uses it to pull herself up onto her knees, using the back of her other hand to wipe her eyes enough to get them at least mostly dry. "Thanks," she said, her voice small. "I make everything into an art." She coughs lightly, clearing her throat before speaking further. "I would call you a 'hero' for that, since I do not think you could have picked a better time to show up." She smiles up at them, a bit of that charismatic coyness seeping into her grin. "But I suspect that you do not want to hear that after what probably just happened." She remains knelt on the ground, there, and the gradual clearing of her expression indicates that she's already in a much better mood than she was mere moments before. "It sounds like you are having a rough night too, huh?"

Ava's nose wrinkles in apparent disagreement at the idea of being called a 'hero'. They'd think maybe she missed the parts about them being a dangerous person to be around, but they know she didn't. And really, if she doesn't care, why should they?

"Yeah, but you should see the other guy," Ava quips with a distinct lack of humor, instead coming closer to sounding grimly matter-of-fact. They don't look directly at her, instead letting their eyes not-focus on nothing in particular for a moment or two. They shift, sitting in a more comfortable position with one knee along the ground and the other raised as their gaze returns to the siren. "Kinda surprised you'd say I have good timing after ghosting me like that. Something happen?"

Mollianne's eyes are immediately on the ground in front of her, and her then-rising good vibes are culled somewhat. "...yeah," she admits. Her voice is still low, but she's probably aware of Ava's want for secrecy out here in the darkness as much as she is actually wracked with personal guilt. "I messed up, and then I think I messed up again." The barest vestige of a grin still remains on her face, despite her ocular aversion. "I have a problem with making bad decisions, sometimes. It has been a really bad week."

Mollianne had slightly more than a shred of awareness that Avarice lived life on a different edge than most others she knew. But who was she to judge? Survival was a bitter concept at times, and she knew that better than a lot of people. The sounds of their arrival tonight at least helped confirmed it a little bit, but she also wasn't going to pry. The last thing she wanted was a reason for Ava to put distance between the two of them, when she already felt like she had very little to begin with and then proceeded to continuing losing those, too. She sniffled, the last little residual of her little breakdown from just before. "All things considered, you showing up here has kind of been the highlight of that week, for better or worse. Even if it was an accident, you have my thanks, regardless." She looks up, then, after a momentary hesitation. "And I am sorry for startling you."

Avarice pauses for a moment, head lifting slightly and eyes unfocused, as if listening for any sort of sound not coming from the two of them. Fortunately, their senses tell them that they're still in the clear. Most people have little reason to come to this corner of town at this hour, which was exactly why they came this way, and makes them wonder if the siren's intent was similar. Maybe she's been avoiding more than just them, lately. That possibility alone spoke volumes.

A persistent, nagging feeling tells them that being in the open right now is not the best of ideas, even somewhere relatively isolated. A feeling they're, for now, opting to ignore, because something about Mollianne's presence is soothing, and they're not eager to part ways quite yet.

"That bad?" Without thinking about it, they reach forward to very gently wipe a bit of moisture away just under one of her eyes with their thumb, an action that, all things considered, feels uncharacteristically tender. They don't acknowledge the apology, maybe because it would bring attention to the fact that they probably owe her one too, for similar reasons, and they don't feel sorry. If they'd actually harmed her it might have resulted in some regret, but they mostly just feel a bit of relief to have a break from the loop of fighting and fleeing. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ava's touch, however slight and intention-driven, reminded Mollianne of a great many things in the briefest moments with which it occurred. Insofar as those thoughts arose, a subtle ruffling of her inner feathers took place, but she at least restrained herself enough not to push her face against their hand as the thumb cleaned away her residual sorrow.

The request for discussion, though, broke into the happy smile that was starting to display on her face, minimalizing it considerably. She did because talking was what she liked best, but the nature of her problems, at the moment, was also not a fun topic. This results in some distinct hesitation before she offers a response that, she felt, would get a point across without giving up embarrassing details. "I hurt... someone close to me," she said. "I did not mean to do it, but it happened anyway. They ran away, and then I ran away, because I could not handle the guilt of what I did. But then..."

Another moment of hesitation befell her, thoughts racing in a few different directions. How did she even explain Kaine? She'd told Ava the stories about their brief engagements together during her childhood, but now that he was back in her life again, how was that supposed to come about in any way that wasn't destructive to the relationships she already had? "...I met someone from my childhood, while I was gone. And I made what was probably another bad choice, one that will probably hurt me at some point. Except I do not really know, yet, if it was a bad choice or not, or if it will actually hurt me or not. I cannot... really explain it very well." She knows the vagueness isn't going to earn her any points, but Ava had asked her if she wanted to talk, and she was doing the best she could. There was a certain feeling threatening to spring up from inside of her that wouldn't have done either of them any good right now, and she fought hard to keep it suppressed, where it belonged.

If she were being completely honest and truthful to herself, she just wanted to be held, right now, above all else. She could think clearly on it because she was no longer in heat, and what she wanted wasn't carnal, not at all. She wanted someone to tell her that everything was okay and nothing would hurt her. A hug, a pat on the head, a kiss on the cheek... affection of some kind. She was starved for it, and it wasn't something she could just ask for. She knew better than that, especially now, and after everything that had happened. The cheers from her audience, the waves and smiles from the crowd, the occasional comment from passerby on how they were looking forward to her next show, even the occasional hangouts with Hikari from time to time; it wasn't the same.

So she suppressed it and just kept it to herself, like a good girl. She was an adult and needed to act like one. "I will be okay, though," she lied, forcing that smile back into place. "You know I am not one to let things like that get me down for too long. I always bounce back, better than ever."

Avarice's face gives up very little of their thought process as they look levelly at Molly, absorbing everything she's saying. They haven't known her long at all, but when she speaks of herself, what she says is very revealing. They know of several important people in her life; the girls at the club, and Ambience, who she had mentioned by name. She'd even spoken in a surprising amount of depth of her relationship with Kaine. 'When I was younger', were the words she used. And now she was speaking of someone from her childhood, someone apparently significant enough to push her into making a possible bad decision.

They can't help the way those thoughts juxtapose in their head. They're not deluded enough to think they know everything there is to know about the siren. They're quite sure she keeps her secrets, as someone who is full of them. But they also have enough information to make several reasonable guesses about what happened in the past week.

And they mention none of them. Instead, they keep a steady gaze on the siren's face, watching each little tell, which in this situation is not proving too difficult for them to read. She's a bit of an open book. "Molly." The rogue just says her name, and nothing else, letting it hang for a couple of seconds. "Doesn't that wear you out? Keeping that smile up even the time even when you feel like shit. You can drop it around me."

They look away for a moment. "You don't have to tell me anything else about what happened if you don't wanna. But you can just be real around me. I don't need the performance all the time. Think you do enough of that already." Pausing briefly, Avarice thinks about what she just said, and whether to address any of it. "If you hurt someone when you weren't trying to, maybe that just means they couldn't handle you being yourself."

Honest as they were, those words dug deep. They dug real deep.

Who was she smiling for? Her fans? Her friends? Herself? The real, actual thought never occurred to her, never laid upon her a reason as to why she kept up the facade. She was happy-go-lucky in the absolute sense of the term, that much wasn't a lie; but the sorrow was frequent, and it was real. Even then, she exuded only radiance, because that was what they came to expect from her.

Who were 'they'? And why did she feel like she had to try so hard?

Ambience's words, then, suddenly hit her in the back of the head like a falling stage light. Five years prior, but she remembered them clearly, in that moment.

'There are just some appearances we gotta keep up, Molly. It's rough, but we don't have a choice.'

Little beads began to form at the corner of her eyes as Ava's words ground away at her resolve to keep smiling, stay happy, and let everyone feel like she would always be okay, no matter what. Everyone else's happiness was her happiness, she always believed; seeing so many people smiling because she was smiling provided the highlights for each night, whether they were faces she didn't know, or a face she saw every day. She was happy because everyone expected her to be, and she didn't want to let them down. She was a performer, through and through, and she had become so good at it that she even staged herself.

She stared at Ava's face, then, her mouth opening slightly as if to form words, but nothing came forth. The threatened tears became more pronounced as her eyes misted over, and the restraint she normally had at least some amount of... just wasn't there. In its place were all the sacrifices she could remember making, all the attempts she made to be selfish, to desire, to want something for herself, and how badly they ended for her. She felt Kaine's sword, again, as it plowed through her breast and cleaved her heart wide open. She remembered the sound and the sting of the slap across her face whenever Sapphire, a foster mother prior to Vireyda, had ever come home from a bad night and needed someone to take it out on. She felt the residual ache in the back of her head from having her skull slammed through the old building, and recalled Kaine's grip on her face, his steely eyes boring into her with little more than sheer menace and malevolence. She remembered Ambience's aversion to almost everything she tried to confide in him, recalled his scolding, reminding her that she had to adapt and adjust, because that was the world they lived in.

And yet, she smiled. She always smiled. Kaine called her out on it. Ava was calling her out on it. Why did she continue to smile? Who was it benefitting?

This song... this dance. She'd been performing it for so long that it became an orchestral ballad without a finale. In the few times she broke and gave in to herself, it always hurt. She was always ashamed, always fearful, always angry with what she was, and that she couldn't control it. There were always repercussions, always a backlash. Except, probably, one time so far.

'Do not do it,' she argued with herself, trying with everything she had left not to let those tears fall from her eyes. 'Do not make them hate you, too. Be sad, be miserable on your own time. Ava wants to see you happy. Smile for them. Smile!' It was going to happen anyway, and she knew it would, but she was.. strong. Wasn't she?

Wasn't she?

Droplets poured freely down her cheeks as the siren caved, letting go in that moment of everything she was holding onto. All the pain fell like rain down the sides of her face, and she choked out sobs without any sense of restraint at all. Amidst her sorrow, words finally came, rasped out between breaths that she also found difficulty making. "It hurts..." she gasped, unable to look away from Avarice's face despite one more performance she was yet putting on.

Just for them.

At first, it seems like Ava's response is anything but sympathetic. They can see the tears bubbling up, but the rogue's expression has changed very little. They both did, and did not understand what they were getting into. In truth, if they'd been asked, they wouldn't have been able to explain what drove them to push Molly like this. It would be far from the first decision they've made entirely on impulse.

In their mind, whatever was between them was fragile. They'd spoken a few times. They'd spent a memorable night together. That didn't exactly make for a ride-or-die connection. People normally came and went from Ava's life with little fanfare. In her silence in the previous days they'd begun to wonder if she'd come to her senses and decided maybe she didn't want to associate with someone as secretive as they were, when every hint she'd probably picked up about them likely said nothing good. It would have been much easier not to care; much simpler to walk out of her life before she could make that decision. But something nags at them when they entertain that thought. She's told them to their face how many people she's lost, and how much she hates to be alone.

Ava's lips part slightly as she gives in to the cascade of tears, leaving them at a rare loss for words. They're not the right person for this. There are things people tend to look to them for. Providing comfort isn't one of them. But there's no one else here. The fact that no one else has reached out like this is a sign that everyone else in her life right now is failing her. So they have two options; they can turn away and rely on people they don't believe are up to the task to take care of a distressed siren. Or, they can do it themself.

And so, they reach out, with blood on their knuckles and face, and draw her in close, guiding her with an insistent pull until they can slide their arms around her waist. They feel clammy with the recent sweat from exertion that's drying on their skin, but the embrace is firm and secure. They can't tell her everything is going to be alright. She deserves better than lies, no matter how pretty they sound. But there is one thing that they can say, a soft reassurance that speaks volumes in spite of how simple it is.

"I've got you. I'm here."

It's hard to tell what her intent was; whether she was looking for something in Ava's eyes, or she was begging them to see something in her eyes, with her inability to look away. Internally, she scraped and clawed for some last bastion of restraint even as the dam collapsed and allowed every ounce of despair, anguish, and frustration to pour forth. She didn't want people to see her like this. It wasn't supposed to be who she was. Ava was important to her; they were one of the last people she wanted to break down in front of.

'This does not work. You know that. It has never worked. Nobody cares about your sadness. They want to see you smile. Be happy for them!'

But they asked for this.

'Maybe that just means they couldn't handle you being yourself.'

They asked for this.

Mollianne couldn't rein herself in. This was even worse than the breakdown she had in front of Kaine, but maybe it was because she knew he didn't care. That was her giving up in the midst of a desperate attempt to make him see something she should've known better about in the first place. This was... so much worse. She felt so utterly childish letting go of herself like this, when she at least believed that Ava, for their part, wasn't going to strike her down for being pathetic and weak. She thought, then and again, that she could just get up and flee. Right then. Just... get right up, spread her wings, and leave. Never come back. Nobody would have to deal with her anymore; her bestial desires at the end of the month, her weird predisposition to hiding behind masks, her flagrant disregard for basic rules and morals, none of it. The only thing they'd lose was her song, but music was a global thing. She was... replaceable.

That thought, actually, threatened to cut even deeper into the wound she was already nursing, if not for the fact that there was suddenly a pair of arms reaching for her. Mollianne choked back a surprised gasp as the coaxing pull guided her against them, tensing noticeably as her addled mind took brief stock of what was happening. The shock was enough that she couldn't move, then, merely trembling against the sudden warmth that Ava's body provided for her. That warmth, that she so desperately wanted, more than anything else. And before she could chide herself for being selfish, those words reached her ears, and split her anew from the inside out.

'They're right here. It's okay.'

She didn't notice the blood. She didn't notice the texture of their hands. She didn't see anything, only felt. And it was so very, utterly warm. She heard their conversations replaying in her head as her tears continued to fall, from that first night when she returned from Hikari's house and happened upon Avarice in the street. The stories she told them, the quips they made, the questions they asked, the responses she gave. Everything was open and she'd held nothing back, and Ava was...

'It's okay.'

Her arms reached up, then, and wrapped themselves tightly around Ava's back, digging her fingers into their shoulderblades and holding on for what may have been dear life, if her grip was anything to go by. And she continued to cry, letting everything fall out of her on the outside while she fell apart on the inside, because it was okay. It was allowed. She'd just needed someone to finally tell her that.

And as she surrendered fully to her lamentations, she wondered, just for a moment, why it had taken her so long to find them.

Ava takes Molly's grip on their shoulders as confirmation that this is exactly what she needs, and the next step is to maximize contact for comfort purposes. Since she doesn't weigh a whole lot of anything, their grip around her waist tightens and they simply hoist her off the ground for a moment so that they can bring their legs together underneath her and set her down in their lap, rather than on the ground. And then they squeeze all over again, leaning the side of their head against hers.

It aches a little, when they realize that no one's ever thought to do this for them. But they're not selfish enough to give the hollow feeling in their chest any more attention than it warrants right now. They rock a little from side to side as they hold her, giving her the space to fall apart. The rogue's eyes remain open, staring off at some uninteresting point in the street. And their overactive mind reminds them that this level of noise is likely to attract attention, and possibly not the kind of attention they want. A frown starts to form on their face. Wouldn't that just be something, if they had to throw her off and make a mad dash to escape the authorities all over again?

Ava wonders how quick she would be to forgive that.

Shaking their head slightly to dispel the thoughts of something that hasn't even happened, they instead turn their attention fully back to her. "Whatever happens, you're gonna be tough enough to handle it." They're not exactly an expert in giving pep talks, but they make up for it in sounding confident that they fully believe what they're saying, maybe.

The abject sorrow of Mollianne's situation is tempered by the unadulterated acceptance that Ava is offering in her hour of need, and as she is bodily shifted, the only change in her posture is that her hands move themselves from Ava's shoulderblades to clasp one another around their back fully in a tight embrace. Her face finds itself nuzzled against the side of their neck, hiding both tears and the pain they contain from outside eyes. No small number of thoughts cross her mind, but the vast majority of them are ignored in favor of a staunch focus on the here and now; only a small remnant of selfishness still nagged at her in knowing that it had scarcely been a week since she'd been in this position and indulged herself within their arms then as she did now. Still, she willed herself to believe that if Ava was inherently disagreeable over her closeness, they would not have offered in the first place.

The time she was being given to find herself did wonders for her frame of mind, and as her sobs began to quieten and the tears became less-frequent, the ragged sound of her breathing began to preside more over the other two. But as her sadness began to decline and the nature of her situation fell into place, her ability to dissuade errant thoughts diminished, and though she clung to Ava no less than before, her mind drifted elsewhere. Ava's scent, the mixture of vanilla combined with their own personal flavor that a siren's nose was personally-capable of picking up, jarred loose memories of a time before, and how she'd been too flippant and whimsical to give them any real thought; Mollianne's memories were, at her core, the dearest of all things that she held close, for both the good and the bad.

'It doesn't keep you up at night, thinking about what happens when you do something they don't like...?'

'...you're fine with putting that sense of belonging in the hands of a bunch of strangers?'

'If I'm alive, and I'm better off than I was yesterday, that's good enough for me.'

Her grip on them tightened, just a little bit, and she closed her eyes as she focused on the rhythm of Ava's heartbeat. Her tears had subsided to a significant degree by now, but her thoughts continued unabated, finding things she felt were important, things she'd missed, pieces of 'why,' amidst where she found herself, right here and now.

'...not like we can really choose who we feel that way about...'

'I'm not what you'd call a good person. ... ... You don't want to get mixed up with me.'

I am.. I am just a...

'You say that like it's a bad thing.'

Something broke through, all of a sudden, and it took her a solid handful of moments to realize that Ava had been speaking to her, and not in her head. She didn't register the words at first and the silence that followed was considerable, but eventually her thoughts settled down enough to allow her that focus, and her eyes opened once more, looking past them at some darkened spot in the distance. "I know..." she whispered, unable or unwilling to speak any louder than she felt was necessary. "I know I will. I have to be. I can handle myself... I can deal with it." There was a long pause, perhaps in deliberation of whether she actually believed her own words. "But..." Another pause, one that saw her fighting against her own selfishness, among a countless number of times prior. "This is really... really important to me. I am sorry if it troubles you, that you have to... put up with me, like this. I cannot help it." She blinked, her eyes widening somewhat.

...just a beast at heart.

She issued a soft sigh, relaxing her grip somewhat but not letting go entirely. Her chin came to rest on Ava's shoulder, and she would have wondered just how weird all of this might have sounded to them, had she not been physically picked up and allowed to sit in Ava's lap like a spoiled child. This was probably going to cause problems for her down the line, but right now, she didn't care; those problems could come later, and be dealt with later, when she was in better shape to deal with them. "This means more to me than anything in the world, Ava," she said, her voice lifting a little. "I just want you to know that you are..." She hesitated, just a beat. "...appreciated. Greatly."

Ava keeps finding stray thoughts springing to mind unbidden. The realization dawns that this sort of contact feels nearly alien to them, when not initiated with the pretense of seeking pleasure. They're so much out of their element it's a wonder they'd even known what to do, but it was just what felt right in the moment. Their skin tingles with some as-yet unidentified feeling, one that they're not sure they want to understand.

They don't prod her to respond when she doesn't, immediately. Other than the fact that they're stuck sitting on the cobblestones, this is pretty comfortable for them. They could stay this way for quite a while. The thief frowns slightly when she finally answers. It sounds like she's trying to convince herself.

The offer to stand with her if she needs it dies in their throat, unspoken. They're not in a position to make any promises. They don't know if they'll be here tomorrow. Really, they don't know how much longer it'll be before someone finds their body in a ditch. It's not a thought they ever give much space to, but they've never once believed they'll live to see wrinkles on their face.

Anything else in their mind disappears as they process what she's saying. They lean back just slightly for a moment, enough that the siren can see the fierce look on their face when they respond. "Molly, if I felt like I was putting up with you, I wouldn't be here right now. I don't do things I don't wanna do. Not on my own time." The obvious implication there hangs, that there's plenty of doing things they don't want to when the time isn't their own, but the idea of having obligations isn't exactly unusual, unless someone were to think a little bit too hard about it.

It's when she draws more attention to them and what they're doing, that they finally find themself at a loss for words. They hesitate for a moment with trying to figure out how to respond to sincere appreciation. It's not really something they're used to dealing with. The wheel of responses apparently lands on 'be a smart-ass.' "You better appreciate it. I wouldn't do this for just anyone. It's only because we're both elevens."

Mollianne was pretty thick sometimes, and though she might not be the first one to admit it, she definitely wouldn't have been the last one, either. However, Ava's minute bouts of occasional silence as they spoke, coupled with some of the implications she'd brought herself around to recognize from past conversations, did speak at least a little bit to their own sense of being 'stuck,' as she felt her limited understanding applied to it. She regarded the intensity on their face with a small bout of silence of her own, letting them know that, for all of her shiny reddened eyes and no small amount of wet splotches on her collarbone where her tears had escaped, they had her attention. Her expression is soft and acknowledging, and while not completely averse of her earlier sadness, it's plain to see that this simple act of closeness has brought her around pretty well from where she started. She felt like she needed to say something in response, maybe even pick apart some of those things that yet lay hidden between them, but no small amount of residual fear warned her of potential consequences if she pried too far or too hard. There might be a time to ask those questions, but right now wasn't it; not right after they'd selflessly stayed and nursed her emotional wounds. Putting Ava on the spot wasn't a good idea at the moment, and this little siren knew a thing or two about not-good ideas.

She wouldn't have gotten the chance, anyway, because the next quip that comes out of their mouth broke down the measure of seriousness she had erected in place of her sorrow, and ended up pretty-well washing away both. The only immediate response she offered was a knowing, fang-induced grin, one that they'd seen plenty of times before in the short timeframe the two had even known each other.

Her right hand comes away from Ava's back so she can reach up and push some of that messy auburn hair to a separate side of their temple, such that she can see both of their eyes. Her hand lingers on the side of their face as her grin broadens, heedless of the bit of drying blood visible there. "Yeah," she agreed after a moment, her voice still low, but possibly for a different reason at this point. "Both of us are. It can be kind of hard sometimes, but I will try not to forget it as long as you do the same." The size of their ego practically guaranteed another smart-aleck response, but that might have also been what she was hoping for. She didn't want Ava to be anyone other than who they were, maybe for the same reason they seemed to have accepted her for who she was.

Mollianne's hand fell away, then, resting loosely atop Ava's shoulder as her chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh. "This is... something of a compromising position we are in, at the moment," she said, resignedly, though her grin didn't falter even slightly. "I am sure you have things to do and people to run away from, and I probably need to make sure I still have a job left. The Evening Star needs a reason to see you come back again, after all, and I do not want to think of what kind of business that place might drum up without me on stage." Despite her cockiness, her eyes don't hide well the fact that she doesn't actually want to get up or leave, but knows that she can't exactly stay here the whole night. She wasn't that selfish.

Maybe.

"You kidding? I get a reminder every time I look in the mirror." There's the response she was probably expecting, and in spite of how rough their day has apparently been, there's even a lopsided grin that makes its way onto their face. Apparently they find her company soothing enough that it even manages to counteract all of that, just a touch.

Which makes it all the more disappointing when the reminder of their situation sets in. Their expression falls rather quickly to something that looks a little bit tense. Instead of responding right away, they take a moment to gently clear her tears away, again. And then, the rogue breathes in deeply, finding their resolve. They don't want to go anywhere, but thinking about the consequences if they don't make themself scarce is enough of a motivator to tip the scales in the direction they need to go. Ava gets a firm grip on Molly's waist, lifts her up enough to get their legs underneath themself, and then stands, siren-in-tow and all, before setting her down on her taloned feet.

They release her, but stay close, keeping their voice low. "I've gotta lay low for a bit, Molly. You probably won't see me for a week or two, at least until things cool off." They feel they owe her the honesty. It, of course, occurs to their paranoid mind that if Mollianne figures out too much, she could be a risk to them, but for now that risk feels worth taking. They don't think about the reasons why they're being so reckless. Being an incongruous mix of overly cautious and heedlessly impulsive was their regular state of being, anyway. This wasn't that unusual. "Look after yourself, alright?"

Not for the first time, their words feel heavy with the implication of something that goes unsaid.

That remark brightens her face considerably, as it seemed to definitely be what she wanted to hear. She also discovers, in the next few moments, how much she actually likes being picked up, but whether it was a submissiveness thing in acknowledgment of her small stature, within and without, or just blatant enjoyment of that brand of physical contact isn't immediate obvious. Still, there's no mistaking how she reacts to it, all the same. The feel of their hands brushing across her face, whether to clear her tears or otherwise, definitely bolstered this feeling as well.

The change in expression accompanied with the vague admission of their own troubles that lie ahead do diminish her good vibes just a little bit, though, replacing in equal parts with concern. At the same time, she'd already told herself that she wouldn't pry, because if Ava wanted to talk, they would. But there was one thing she could at least make clear to them, while still allowing them space to decide when and how to approach things. "I have to go and retrieve my phone," she said, a bit sheepishly, "but you have my number, Ava. Please reach out to me whenever you need to, and maybe... you know, even when you think you do not need to, sometimes."

She offers them one of those bright smiles of hers, clearly devoid of any hidden despair. "I promise I will be careful. I have a lot of reasons to, some of them more important than others." Her wings twitch slightly at this statement, but it doesn't alter her features at all. "Please do the same and stay safe." She hesitates as if wondering if her next comment was too far in the broader span of things, given that it would mean she was making assumptions, but decides to go for it anyway. ".. For me, if no one else. Okay?"

At that unexpected, open-ended offer, Ava's head tilts slightly to one side, studying Mollianne's face. If she means that the way she seems to, it makes one particular truth very hard for them to avoid. It's going to be very hard to keep getting closer to Molly without her learning more about them. Naturally, they've already had to accept this on some level, but the risk will only become greater with every encounter. Is it worth the risk to them? To her?

The only real sign of their internal uncertainty that can be picked up on is a moment of the rogue chewing on their lower lip, before they release it. This is something that needs more than just a split-second decision, and it's likely one they'll delay for as long as they possibly can. Their smile doesn't return, but they do look faintly smug when they give her an answer to her request. "Don't worry about me. Been around the block enough times, I'm almost as good at getting out of trouble as I am getting into it."

Apparently they just can't resist making these remarks to Molly anymore, even if it goes against their supposed want for secrecy. Forcing themself to take a step back, they give her a briefly raised hand that serves for a wave. "See you around." Waiting only for any final goodbyes before turning on their heel, they make their way down the alley, before quickly cutting their way through an even-less used side street, keeping well clear of the beaten path on their way to whatever their destination is.

Mollianne offered no further words, letting her smile say plenty enough on its own as Ava affirmed their farewell and then made themselves scarce, as ever they do. Her eyes lower slightly once they are out of sight, but she wasn't sad. Not even a little bit. It was always a dangerous game she played, and she had become far-too-used to the premise of likely having consequences for each action she took. Sometimes it was worth it, sometimes not; often, she wouldn't know which of the two it was until far later on. But perhaps none of the risks she ever took could have been that great, since she was still standing, after all.

Or maybe she was just remarkably, stupidly, and insanely lucky. Such a pretense fit, really.

She stood there for a short while thereafter, alone in the darkness, basking personally in the residual warmth she still felt even after Ava's withdrawal. "I am... an eleven," she repeated to herself aloud. Her smile changed into a grin, and she felt her wings ruffle slightly with some passing thought that went along with it, but chose not to adhere to it too strongly in that moment. Instead, she eventually turned and made her way through the street, toward the nightclub at the northeastern corner of Viorar. There was no way to know how things would go with her colleagues, especially if Thyrenne knew what had actually happened, but she'd never know if she stayed in the shadows the whole time.

It may have been dark outside, but Mollianne could not have felt like any more of an evening star if she'd been up in the sky with the rest of them.