(Untitled)

[dreamer_fray]

[OOC: Directly after this.]

And when you look in the right place, you see.Not much, in this case. Gray-brown haze mostly fills his vision. Looking up, there's more of the same with a slight glow of reddish-orange, but down

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[slayer_fray]

The mist seems to permeate the entire cityscape, even, when you look close enough, moving into and through the buildings as if they're not even there. In some places it's thin and barely there, in others it's thick enough to be almost opaque. And these places switch and fade and moves around fluidly.

As one of the patches of 'solid' mist disperses, it shows a figure standing on the edge of the building opposite him, a warrior standing tall, proud, and with a familiar weapon on her back.

[dreamer_fray]

A smile crosses Harth's face, even as he tilts his head to watch her more intensely. She's never unimportant. And here...

He leans forward, pushing glasses slowly up on his nose.

The mist to the sides flows more thickly, obscuring the buildings to dim shapes. The warrior is the focus, as always.

[slayer_fray]

At first she doesn't appear to be looking at anything, staring into the middle distance. Then, almost indifferently, she notices him, and fixes him with an unreadable expression. Maybe friendly, maybe smug, maybe even indifferent, it's hard to tell.

[dreamer_fray]

Ain't that always so?

He waves, after a moment, to see what she'll do. Mist curls about his hand in a way that surely ain't normal. He blows softly, watching the shapes as it skitters away.

[slayer_fray]

All sorts of shapes appear and fade in the blown mist as it dances away, and many seem to be heading in the direction of the figure. Demons, girls, vampires, and some things not quite definable roar silently before disspiating away.

She tilts her head and lifts a hand, on which stands one of the shapes that didn't fade before reaching her. Then she smirks clearly.

[dreamer_fray]

Harth slowly mimicks the motion.

Down to the smirk.

"Whatcha got, Mel?"

He speaks quietly, but his voice carries perfectly. One of those things.

[slayer_fray]

Mel lifts her hand to showing a miniture mist-likeness of a teenage boy, sitting on the edge of her hand, one leg swinging idly.

Bringing it to her face, she purses her lips, all the time looking straight through the figure at Harth where he sits.

With a gentle blow, she sends the smoke reeling away from her, scattering it and destroying the form, before dusting her hands to show their emptiness.

"Nothing."

[dreamer_fray]

"Guess not," he says softly, clenching his own fist.

A curl of mist from it wafts under his noce, redolent for just a moment of burning herbs. He leans forward, closer to his sister, heedless of the drop and focusing on need.

Strange heat seems to beat upwards from below.

[slayer_fray]

Mel tilts her head at him, blinking curiously.

Then, aimlessly, she steps forward into the gap between the buildings

[dreamer_fray]

"Mel-"

And he knows what just happened because he felt the heat, and if she falls she'll burn.

He'd break her if he could, but never burn her away, and she will burn if she hits the bottom; so before he can think, he's dived after her, walls streaking past as they fall.

[slayer_fray]

Mel doesn't appear fussed by the fall, and glances up at hi as he gains on her.

"Are you going to catch me?" she asks. "Or hit bottom with me?"

[dreamer_fray]

"One of the two," he says, grabbing at her hand.

His.

"Maybe both."

[slayer_fray]

Mel reaches up and closes her hand around his, gripping with strength she shouldn't have.

Or maybe he doesn't have his own.

"I'm supposed to catch you," she says.

[dreamer_fray]

"Got confused," he says.

It's warm, even as cool air rushes past.

"Does it matter, s'long as one of us does?"

[slayer_fray]

"Guess not."

And then the fall suddenly jerks as Mel stops. She has a drainpipe caught between her ankles, and swings violently down to a sudden stop, hanging freely from the grip.

[dreamer_fray]

Harth dangles from their locked hands, helpless.

Looking up, past her face, the smog layer far above seems to glow with a dark gold liquid light, leaving her face defined by hard shadows. He stares up, mesmerised.

The scent of smoke is thick, almost cloying.