ash

Gabbro looks dispassionately at the severed flight bound and gagged at his feet, barely conscious and neck swollen from the tranquilliser dart.

"Sie töteten Merox, sie bastard." His whisper is almost inaudible.

Jun stirs slightly and strains futilely against his bonds, groaning slightly. Gabbro resists the urge to deal him a swift kick in the ribs; he isn't sure if the flight can survive Gabbro's doc martens.

The air is humid and unbearably warm; the heat clings to Gabbro in a smothering embrace, together with the faint but still sickly sweet smell of a slightly mouldy air freshener that has faded over a long time.

"Debemos desatarlo," Julio's voice is a rasp once again, and Gabbro turns to see his partner holding a cup of steaming tea once again. We should untie him.

Gabbro has missed the intimacy of communicating with Julio in this way; it is something that he has forgotten ever since he changed partners, some years back. Julio is like the sea, a rhythm beating upon shores of fine golden sand, crash and shh, crash and shh once again, never faltering in its stride. Julio is like that. Gabbro knows Julio like Julio knows the sea; Julio has embraced it with its salty tang and fine sand beneath his feet, the sun's osculation upon his skin, warm and welcoming. Julio takes on the waves like a child standing in place of a matador; he has no fear, knows no need for caution. He is a reckless, reckless man, and yet he is the most predictably reckless man Gabbro has ever known.

Merox had been something different, vastly exotic, golden hair and sharp wit the only redeeming features to an otherwise cold man- cold Kindred man. Gabbro could never read Merox. Merox was like the treacherous darkness of the Hypogeum, sucking emotion out of souls as he drank blood from human veins by night. And yet it was this strange quality that attracted Gabbro to Merox, just as the darkness of the Hypogeum seduces and consumes.

There is a bitter taste on Gabbro's tongue as he ponders over the loss of this icy darkness that has become his companion by night. He looks to Julio, and thinks of returning to the sea, but there is something in Julio's eyes that tell him that the sun has set on that horizon, in a blaze of warm red paint on canvas burning up the sky.

Julio raises an eyebrow at Gabbro and jerks his head in Jun's direction. "Debemos desatarlo. Es malo para la circulación de la sangre," he repeats. We should untie him. It's bad for blood circulation.

Gabbro twists his face into a smile that looks more like a frown. "Ich hasse ihn." I hate him.

Julio shrugs and walks over to Jun, loosening the ropes just slightly. "I know," he says plainly in English. For a while Gabbro thinks he can hear Merox saying that, but then he blinks again and it's Julio, standing there with his tea, steam wafting past his face.