Tu Fui, Ego Eris

"Paranoia is just a kind of awareness, and awareness is just another form of love."

–Charles Manson

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Chapter 4: Cras Amet Qui Nunquam Amavit; Quique Amavit, Cras Amet

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"You..." She began to mutter as she was carried away. "You saved my life..."

Fiona was surprised she could even speak, even be able to utter words the way she was. Her consciousness was fading in and out, vision blurring and eyes closing. She was so very, very tired. And now, whatever that horrible old man had done to her, it literally drained her totally. There was no energy left in her tiny, supple frame. The man that carried her, Riccardo, the man she hated...Had just saved her life. She remembered it, and it struck her, it struck her hard. Because of this, she said it out loud.

She knew this was something that she probably shouldn't have done, yet was too late to stop even herself.

Riccardo kept looking ahead, and for once didn't consider his words particularly carefully.

"I know..."

It wasn't romantic, it wasn't planned, it was the truth. He knew it, and even if he wasn't going to say it out loud, he was planning to use this rather unfortunate event to his advantage. Though he still wished it had never happened, he was always one to try and make the best out of the worst of circumstances.

Although she heard it, she didn't dwell on it. She didn't want to be in his arms right then, didn't want any of this. And yet, she unwillingly found herself beginning to feel very comfortable, and very calm. With every limping, hobbled step he took, she seemed to be lulled deeper into his spell. Fiona couldn't comprehend why it felt so good, so relieving and refreshing. It was like she was a child again, and her father had merely picked her up and was carrying upstairs to her bed. Oddly enough, that was closer to the truth then she would like to admit.

He was so warm...So...Inviting. Desperately craving her and what she was, all this time he was inviting her into this position and she finally took it. He was so wonderful next to her compared to her own distinctly cold, limp form. Riccardo was holding her very close, like some trophy that he had just won, a prize. Indeed that was what she was now, he had fought for her, nearly died for her, he deserved her now more then ever. His hands were under her legs and back, pressed up against his chest. A shiver rose up her back, then dissipated, as she cuddled closer to him willingly. Like some kitten to it's master, seeking it's care. Her face brushed up against his oddly-smelling clothing and lay there, her hands clenched onto the uniform below his neck, they were there since he saved her. She had yet to let go, she didn't want to let go. This man wanted to protect her, was willing to die for her. She didn't love him by any stretch of imagination, but he was now the closest thing to any sort of comfort she'd had since Hewie, her whole body shivering as she tried to warm up to his still furnace-like glow.

It felt... good. She had never felt good in this place until then...Ever.

Fiona shuddered again as she realized this, a cold, creeping feeling welling into her. At first she tried to push it away, then didn't, as she discovered it wasn't as pleasant a sensation to leave herself cold right then. Right now she was like a needy child, just wanting somebody to hold and cling to, and right now, a man that was genetically her father had to do. Slowly she felt as he began to walk down some stairs, his steps careful and plodding. His chest heaved with each breath, and she could have sworn she heard his heart beating as she lay her head against it. It sounded so oddly normal, somehow she wasn't expecting it to sound like that of a normal human being. She didn't know what exactly to expect, but that wasn't it. With the lull of his heartbeat, and his warmth, she fell into a deep sleep the likes of which she had never experienced before.

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Her shaky, warbling type of crying died down. She no longer spoke to him, her eyes were closed and her breathing heavy. He looked down at her, she was so peaceful now. Fiona now reminded him of a small child, her left hand grabbing his clothing below the small emblem below his neck, the right positioned up to the right, on his shoulder. He smiled lightly, she wasn't even willing to touch him mere hours ago, still terrified of him in every way with fear in her eyes and a look of disgust on her face. Now she clutched to him in fright and assurance, and he was more then willing to give her as she needed.

Still, it was the light in his darkness now. Because he still had a stab wound in his side. It wasn't plunged into a lung or any sort of organ, or into an artery. Yet it was still ungodly painful, and if he let it go long enough, it could very well cause him to bleed to death. It was now making him limp and stagger slightly as he walked, causing him great misery and making him feel as though he was going to faint. He fought to keep awake, to keep walking, not only to get to aid but to take his Fiona somewhere safe. Her face was still smeared with his creator's blood, yet she still looked absolutely marvelous.

His destination was the examination room. There he would again check her over, and heal himself. While there, he would check her ovulation again, and he would do as soon she was better taken care of and he wasn't bleeding all over the place. Right then he could hear the "pitter-pat" of his blood hitting the floor in droplets in the quiet residence. Even to a cold man such as him, it was rather disconcerting.

It was quite possibly the longest, most tired walk he had ever taken. It was the same exact walk he took twice already, but this time he was injured and it was twice as difficult. Finally, he reached the mansion again. He walked up the slight incline of stairs, though the doorway, into the hallway and through the examination room door again. With a sigh of relief, he set her carefully upon the table, though this time she didn't lay in an almost perfect position.

Riccardo stumbled over to the cabinets, taking out another set of keys and unlocking them. He noisily shifted throughout them, looking for something to stop the bleeding and relieve the pain. Several containers fell onto the floor, and Fiona stirred in her troubled sleep. He knew she would wake, but at that moment he wasn't trying to be graceful. He found the antibacterial salve, a cold compress, and bandages. He carted them over to the sink, desperate to ease at least part of his suffering.

She sat up, there wasn't a grace period between waking up and sitting up. Fiona did so almost immediately. Her vision was blurry, a headache throbbing in her skull. Everything that happened before her waking was pushed out of her conscious, she couldn't worry about that...What was going on now? That's what mattered, everything else could wait.

Fiona saw him across the room at the sink, not really doing anything in particular. He appeared to be washing blood from his hands. The fear returned straight away, surging back into the pit of her stomach. Though she kept in mind that the man had saved her, that didn't mean he wasn't going to try anything. For all she knew he had some sort of plan in mind for her in that room. Put her out, remove something, take advantage of her...

With his back turned, she gave it thought that perhaps, just perhaps, she could make a run for it. Carefully, she shifted on the table, going to put one leg on the floor. Just then, the table creaked a bit at the exertion, and he shot his gaze over in her direction. Her leg came back up to lay on the table, and she straightened her body to lay comfortably. She shook, face draining of blood as her legs clamped together, slightly raised at the knees. Fiona didn't want to think that he could see up her gown...Because his gaze was now going right through her, right to the bone. As he stared in surprise, he gently put down a bottle of disinfectant, and took a step in her direction.

"Are you hurt? Are you okay?" Riccardo managed to ask.

Caught off guard by this question, she wasn't sure how to react. Then she jerked a nod, body shivering again.

"Are you positive you are not hurt?" He repeated.

Again, she nodded, this time harder. Then she licked her lips and answered with her mouth this time.

"Y..Yes...I'm fine..."

He sighed deeply, certainly, he had never expected this to happen. Healing himself would be easy enough, sure. But now Fiona was conscious... and out of her cell. There was no doubt that the minute he went to take another step forward, she would bolt. He looked the girl in the eyes, she looked weak, fragile. She had been through a lot, he scarcely understood how such a young woman could make it so far.

What else was there to do? He took that step, and she crawled backwards on the table, as predicted. She gasped, shook, terrified again. The calm that she had before in his arms was now beginning to wear off.

"You're hurt bad..." She remarked, unsure of what else to say. Her voice cracked, still thirsty and on the very edge of sanity. It was the only thing that she could think of to take the focus off of her.

"I'll live."

So simple. His words cut and dry. He seemed to almost twitch in agony as he stood there. Her eyes had went to his side that he currently clutched. There was a large red stain there, dark red in comparison to the rest of the outfit that he wore. That old man must have gotten him in the scuffle. He had been stabbed, and it was all to protect her. In made her sick in the gut, she now owed this man. She was in dept, and something told her he would want her to pay it off real soon.

"Don't...You...Run..." Riccardo stated, in a strong, commanding voice.

She didn't, just staying there as she shivered on the table. Fiona wasn't stupid... She wasn't about to test her luck twice. He had his gun again, it was in the rope that encircled his waist like a make-shift holster, and although he just discharged it, it wouldn't take him long to reload. Nearing exhaustion, all she wanted to do was use the toilet, shower, and take a long, long nap, maybe even something to eat. Even if it was here, she was tired of running. Lorenzo's appearance had finished it for her, God knows what else was out there, ready to "eat" her.

Yet, she wasn't ready to go with Riccardo, either. She watched as he took another step towards her, but this time she didn't move back.

"I won't touch you like that...Not yet, I promise. Just cooperate with me..."

For a moment she didn't believe the man, but a part of her wanted to. A part of her simply wanted this whole thing to stop, even if what it meant in the end. Taking a deep breath, a chill running up her spine, Fiona nodded.

"Good." He stated, a happy tone to his voice.

Riccardo continued to hold his side in agony. Her eyes widened, why was he so worried about her, when he was still bleeding onto the floor? Why was he trying to kill her yesterday, but now was fawning after her every pain?

"...Why? Why do you care if I'm okay? Were you not trying to kill me before?" She voiced her opinion, knowing she probably shouldn't have.

He raised an eyebrow, a bit puzzled by the question.

"I was merely trying to apprehend you, my dear. I was willing to do whatever it took. I know I may have bruised you, and I certainly remember just missing shooting you. And, for that, I am sorry."

Taking a few steps towards her, his sandals echoing in the small room. Fiona backed away a bit more, to the very edge, afraid she had angered the man. He came to her side and leaned in, terrifyingly close.

"...But, now you are mine, I have no reason to now, Fiona. I promise you, that if it upsets you so, I will not hurt you again. I have no reason to, do I?"

Watching, Fiona's face contorted into disgust. Now, he wished he were a bit gentle with his apprehension methods. Perhaps she would have been a bit less terrified of him, prompting an easier seduction. Sighing deeply again, he turned to the sink.

"I didn't hurt you badly, did I?" He questioned as he began to inspect the hole the knife made in his clothing.

"No..." Fiona muttered as she wrapped her arms around herself and knees, bringing them closer to her chest. With his eyes off of her, it was that much more comfortable.

"Just a few bruises..."

Riccardo stiffened. Damn it. He knew he was a bit too rough. He enjoyed hitting the girl, he admitted, even laughing as she struggled to get back up and watching her skirt flutter as she ran away. To him it was a game, one he knew he'd win. But now, he had harmed his fantastic prize. He had truly felt that the end would justify the means. Now he questioned if the end would even come as he saw fit.

"Let me see." He asked of her, turning around. She looked up at him, puzzled, looking concerned.

"Please..." She pleaded. "You're bleeding, take care yourself first..."

She watched as he looked from her to down to his wound, and realized that perhaps she was right. He reached down, lifting that part of the shirt up to reveal the injury. Fiona's month dropped as she witnessed how bad it was. A large, deep puncture graced his right side. The skin surrounding it was purple, the blood beginning to clot and dry up.

He turned away from her and walked to the sink, where he turned on the faucet, and leaned over the basin to wash away the blood. Wincing in horrible pain, he watched as a good amount of blood ran down the drain. The very element that made him a living, breathing thing was nothing but waste as it entered the hole. He grabbed the small container of soap he had before acquired in the cabinet. He took a portion of it and cleaned his wound. This time he did curse, not being able to fight back the urge. He hit the wall with his fist, grimacing, grabbing at anything nearby.

"Fuck, you fucker...Bloody fucking hell...Piece of shit...Goddamn it, that hurts...Oh, you cunt...You bastard..."

Fiona stood by, too terrified to move. She had been hit by him a few times, deliberately. Also, she watched as he repetitively slapped Daniella. At the time, she felt horrible seeing some poor helpless woman be beaten by the man. Now, well, now she was accused of so much more. She killed the woman, that is, if she was even alive to begin with, and she didn't quite know if that was true or not. But, when he hit her, it had hurt, and it scared her. She wondered about that promise, and whether he was really a man of his word or not. Well, she supposed she would find out soon enough.

Riccardo pulled away from the sink and promptly dabbed the wound dry with a nearby cloth. He doused it with a nearby disinfectant, it sizzled as it killed the nasty infection that could already be forming from the old man's dagger. Grabbing a roll of bandage from a nearby shelf, he then proceeded to lift his shirt up and wrap it around his waist. Fiona tried not to look, the blood getting to her. But she heard him cut the bandage, and place his shirt back over it. He seemed almost modest of himself, not wanting to take off that hideous brown garb he wore. The scars on his face seemed to belay that perhaps he was deformed over the rest of his body as well.

She watched as he moved from the sink and to one of the previously locked cabinets, in it laid many jars with different colored fluids. He searched for a moment, and found a small glass vial filled with brown liquid. Then he pulled up the glass stopper and took a sip. It seemed to have instant effect, he sighed, and took a shaky breath. His shoulders went from a sag to being at their most alert, his whole demeanor going from desperate to one of a sort of powerful savagery.

"...What's that...?" She asked, curious. Fiona had no idea why she decided she suddenly wanted to speak.

"Fortis..." He answered back.

He gave the girl a quaint smile. Curious thing, she was.

Her lips sort of trembled, she was still thirsty, tired, hungry...Whatever he just drank looked almost like scotch or the like. Regardless, it appeared to make him look much better. She began to glance at the small vial in envy. Would he offer her any? Surely, she couldn't ask him...

Riccardo caught this, a look of pleading in her sad yet luminous eyes. It surprised him that the woman's eyes were still so bright after having close to all of her Azoth extracted. It would replenish itself in due time, much sooner then his ever could, but for now she would know what it was to live his life everyday. To feel his crushing need and emptiness, with the absolute inability to satisfy it.

"This, though...This is not for you, my dear..."

She watched with curiosity as he gave her a thoughtful look, set the vial down, and went back to the cabinet. Now he pulled out something else. Two, actually. One was a small, circular metal tin, the other a small square of what almost appeared to be fudge wrapped in wax paper. She recognized the shape, they were alchemical concoctions, she had to make some by crawling through those odd holes that all seemed to lead to the same room. Fiona only ever made a few, they helped replenish her stamina and calmed her down when in need. From the looks of things, he had such things on hand whenever needed.

"...And those?" Fiona next inquired.

"This is Sedatio," He implied as he walked closer to her with the small piece of what looked like fudge.

Damn, it was looking so good...She wasn't sure why, she supposed she was a little too hungry to care anymore.

"...It will calm you down."

Fiona was understandably hesitant, she had no idea what the substance really did, she didn't remember it at all from her previous experiences with the Variatio Machina. She never made it, never tested it's purpose and effects. For all she knew it would knock her out and she would be fair game. She looked from the small brown square atop the paper in his palm, to his face, then back again. He appeared pleading, wanting her so badly to take that item he offered her. That didn't sit well with her, so she delayed.

"...And that?" She asked.

For a moment he was caught off guard, and switched his gaze to the metal tin in his other hand.

"...That you will take later. This, right here, is what you need now. Take it, Fiona."

Still, she kept her hand on the table, shaking her head and then averting his gaze.

"Take it, Fiona. I will not ask so nicely again..."

His voice had gone from gentle and almost soothing, to demanding and disciplinary. This switch scared her more then ever, so she reached forward and lifted the small concoction by her index finger and thumb, not wanting to touch his palm at all, even if it was for a second. She brought it forward gingerly, and sniffed it like a dog investigating something new. It didn't smell like chocolate, rather like cornstarch if anything. She looked up at him, that look of eagerness still in his face.

She raised it to her mouth, and took a bite. It crumbled easily, some of the pieces falling to the table beneath her. Her nose was right, it had the same consistency and general taste of cornstarch, with a tinge of something else she couldn't quite recognize, though it reminded her vaguely of lime. It wasn't bad, and she felt no immediate effect, so she ate the rest. It rather dissolved easily on her tongue, turning into a liquid that ran down her throat. It tasted a little like a medicine or syrup.

Fiona watched as Riccardo smiled just a little, and took a visible sigh of relief.

"How do you feel?" He asked in a courteous manner.

For a moment she couldn't respond, she just shook her head a little. There seemed to be no real effect on her at all. She again looked up at him, and for the first time realized she didn't care that he was standing so close to her, practically looming over her in a Lord-like manner. Her eyes lidded slightly, half-way, and she now felt tired again, her body stopped trembling and her mind at ease. She didn't care when he reached a hand forward and cupped her chin, raising it up to look into her tired eyes.

"Ah, the formula is working then..."

At his suddenly triumphant voice, she jerked a bit in his hand, but remained, her eyelids drooping a bit more.

"It works directly on the muscles and brain. You're very relaxed, aren't you?"

Fiona sort of moaned, realizing he was right. He wished it would work as well on him then it did her, because for him, it merely calmed his nerves a bit. Like with drugs, his metabolizing of it was off and usually incomplete as was his body. He hoped to one day find a good formula that could give him a good night's sleep. Riccardo hadn't had one since he was a child.

His hand fell away, and she gradually gained her balance again as she crawled forward now on her hands and knees, almost flat out laying on the table as she almost fell onto her stomach as she tried to stay up. Turning away, he again rummaged through the cabinets, and found a small pile of washcloths, he wet one in the sink and walked towards her. She felt rather like a messy child as Riccardo again grabbed her chin, and started to wipe the foul blood and spittle that was on her face. Fiona then moaned in odd contempt and discomfort as he did so. Then he stepped back and admired his handiwork. She was clean, now, like a blank slate.

It was obvious to him that she was a world different, calm and at ease around him. Now he could do with her as he wished, though he wouldn't take her quite yet. Even if he wanted to, she wasn't ovulating yet. He would check that now while he had the chance, as her body cycled. Still, he hoped the extraction of her Azoth had not damaged her reproductive cycle for the current week, nor ruined any eggs that could have formed since he checked last. That damned Lorenzo, even dead he could have screwed him over.

Now that he knew she wouldn't fight, his hands once again moved towards her body. The right brushed the outside of her right thigh, the left reached under and felt her belly. She twitched and tried to draw away, but with her calmed state her movements were slow. Although concerned, she couldn't find herself becoming afraid or worried, her responses were delayed. Apparently, the Sedatio was created in a much higher concentration then normal, which would have simply prevented her from going into a panic. This was at least twice the amount, it was slowing everything down, her thoughts, her body...

She felt his extremely warm hands on her body, one on her stomach, the other on her back as they moved to a more favorable position. It was so warm to her cold body, that it felt like it went right through the thin gown and straight to her skin. That was the last thing in the world she wanted to feel. Her mouth opened to protest.

"No...Stop." She tried, though the words were slurred.

"Hush, now." He told his young mistress. "I'm only going to check you, I'm not going to hurt you at all."

Whimpering all the while, she felt him roll her over on her back. He straightened her out so that her legs lay flat. There was nothing she could do to stop him, even fighting wasn't an option. All she could do was lay there and hope that it would all be over soon. Gingerly, she felt him roll up her gown, the sensation of cold air now apparent to her neither regions. There was no sense of impending doom, somehow, she knew he wasn't going to hurt her. His hands were rough, calloused and leathery. They slid against her skin as he continued to roll it up the best he could, up to her breasts. Her face flushed red, but her heartbeat remained the same because of the drug. She fidgeted only slightly, unable to do much more. The only comfort she found was looking away with her eyes closed, his touch the only way to know what he was doing. All she knew was that he could now see her lower form naked, though she knew this probably wasn't the first time, now she was awake for it.

That made it all so much worse.

All he was doing was touching her, yet for Fiona it was just as bad as being assaulted itself, she felt so violated and ashamed. His hands now literally touched her stomach, laying flat on it. She startled, body sort of jumping to his fingers. But it was a fleeting moment, the drug had too good of an effect. They ran very carefully up and down her smooth skin, and she whimpered again at his rough, warm, and wrong feel. A tear rolled down her cheek, she didn't want to be here...

Fiona had forgotten completely that her breasts had been out this whole time, and now his eyes were drown to them. He ripped it open, now nothing at all separated them from him. She felt him take one in his hand, and she was instantly disgusted and horrified. But his touch was not sensual, it was rather mechanical. He made a noise of anger in his throat.

"...He did this to you?"

She just nodded, not wanting to speak to him at that point. All she could think of was blocking out the feel of where his hands were...

With another growl, a curse to his old man, she felt him leave momentarily. She was surprised to almost feel disappointment as he did this, the air chilling again. Yet there was also relief, the longer he stayed away...The better.

He returned quickly with some more antiseptic, but didn't pour it on haphazardly like the dog. Taking a cotton swab, he dabbed the punctures. She winced and whined, her head rolling to the other side. He was very gentle as he rolled her breasts to the side, almost like he didn't want to touch it.

That was it, too. He wanted to save such an intimate moment for when he finally had her in bed. This whole thing wasn't his plan, and as far as he was concerned it was rather ruining it all. As long as he was being more like a doctor and less like a lover, he thought he could make the moment very much worth it when it came.

"Don't be ashamed, M' Lady..." He decided to announce his thoughts.

"...I have seen you in your full glory twice before this."

This prompted a cry from his precious Fiona, a cry of disdain and shame, but she was quiet again as he finished. A bandage was not necessary, they had finished bleeding some time ago, and were in little danger of suffering infection, regardless. He didn't want to mar her perfect breasts, or spend any more time making her uncomfortable. His hands left them and moved back to her belly, which again shuddered at his touch. Palpating it, he detected no internal injury or disruption. Her side stitching was healing rather nicely. Luckily that clash had not torn out a stitch when she most needed them in.

"Where did I hit you?"

"...Shoulder..." She mumbled.

"Does it hurt?"

"...Not anymore..."

He turned her over as she spoke, now ripping the already tattered gown to see the bruise. It wasn't so bad at all, the purple was beginning to dissipate and be replaced by the healthy white skin she possessed.

Then he put her back down, and knew that he would have to do the last segment of his exam, the invasive part. He walked softly over to the table that still sat there, and it's many instruments. Luckily enough Fiona seemed more focused on him then the table or else she may well have gotten the idea. He picked up the second rod, one that was a bit shorter. The reasoning behind it being that this one was to be used in case she was still awake as to not damage anything by poking the sides as she struggled. The downside being that nearly the whole instrument would have to be pushed in. Something told him it wasn't going to be easy.

Holding the stick out, no attempt to hide it, he came back around to the table. Just last night he was doing this exact same thing, with negative results. He hoped it would be more in his favor this time. Her eyes were now open, though fluttering, tired. They grew slightly larger as she saw him and the odd object in his hand.

"What...What...?" She sputtered as she started to pull herself back on the table.

"Don't move, Fiona. You will fall off, and then you will hurt yourself a great deal...We wouldn't want that, would we?"

She shook her head, tasting her tears in her mouth.

"Lay still." He commanded, and took a step forward.

"No!" The girl cried, putting an elbow down next to her and trying to sit up, only to fall back down.

"Fiona, dearest. You need to cooperate with me, remember? I am not going to hurt you, but so help me God, I will come close if you don't stop refusing what I need from you."

As he said this he walked towards her, to beside her, and came to look her in the eyes.

"Lie...Still..."

The drug took it's effect, and she rested back on the table. No matter what, she couldn't seem to get herself up in a fury over this man, to get away, to at least try. All she felt was like resting, of a strange calm overtaking her whole body. The bright lights shone in her face, and she lay flat on the table, her mind spinning as to why she couldn't do anything, her world cloudy and slow, like walking through a murky lake, unable to get away from the monster no matter how hard she tried.

Her heart flew into her chest as she heard him round back to her feet, he seemed oddly gentle about it all. His hands wrapped around one ankle each. Like before, he carefully and slowly lifted and spread each one up and to the sides, only this time he did so even wider to account for her struggling and having to deal with a smaller rod to use. Immediately he noticed her eyes widen, her face flush again.

"It will all be over soon, miss. Just relax, it will go in easier."

This didn't comfort her as much as he thought it would. All she could think of was what he was going to do, and he was so slow and careful about it, she had all the time in the world to think about it, too. He stood there at the foot of the table, her legs spread to him so that, by all means, he could see her very clearly. She was overwhelmed with embarrassment, and once again turned her gaze away, closing her eyes and wishing for it all to be just over with. Her legs were so forcibly spread, that it almost hurt at the angle they were at, and one fell off the table to dangle there as she tried to raise it back up. Riccardo noticed it and did it for her, planting it firmly beside her.

"Don't do this, please..." She tried again.

Riccardo ignored her pleas, he was tired of answering them with reassurance. He eyed the rod again, making sure it was clean.

"Now, this may be a bit uncomfortable, I can't lubricate it on account...Well, it would make it a rather hazardous environment for my seed, and we can't have that so soon to the eve of our lovemaking..."

This threw her off guard, both shocking and disgusting. She already knew what he was going to do, but it still sounded too...real. Lovemaking? Her legs tried to close again, but they felt like limp noodles to her. Then, she watched as Riccardo seemed to tilt his head, make a noise of problem-solving in his throat, and eye the rod even closer.

He couldn't help but think it might still be too rough on her virgin canal, and was worried it wouldn't be easy enough to fit through. Asleep, it didn't matter, she wouldn't feel it anyway. But now, she was awake and feeling. If anything, the drug might make her sensitive to it. He couldn't use any sort of lubrication in fear that it tends to work as a spermicide and would lesson his chances even more. No, he needed something a bit more natural.

Holding the rod slightly closer, he licked it, from the bottom to the top, then turned it around and did so again. Until it was messy with it and dribbling over his own fingers.

"Problem solved..." He mused, then smiled when he realized Fiona was watching him, her mouth open and nearly quivering from abhorrence and shock.

...Did he just do that?

This was a fantastic and ungodly sexy concept to him, already putting a sampling of his bodily fluids in the woman. Of course it wasn't the sort that he'd rather be inserting into her, it would have to do for now. A small smirk came across his face as he met her eyes, and brought the small rod down and forward.

She felt him place once his left hand below her stomach at the junction between it and the part of her thigh that connected to her hip, providing something to hold on to. It was jarring, and distracting enough as he carefully began to insert it. The tip graced her opening, and she immediately felt it spread her muscles outward. She gasped at the unholy and unwholesome cold that the rod was, doubled by the wet chilly viscosity of his saliva. It did feel to help the insertion, and it began to glide through rather easily.

It was a sensation Fiona never had before, one that she couldn't quite explain. Far from being erotic or arousing in any way, it was both odd and unsettling, this man was performing a gynecological exam on her against her will. She had never even been to one, though she supposed she should have. Her arms rested on her stomach, twitching slightly as she looked the man in the eyes again, he looked back with that look of almost...joy on his face. A slight grin, she knew she probably shouldn't be, should be looking away or screaming, but it was almost a relief. He had gotten what he wanted, and now he would be satisfied for a while. Soon, it really would be over. What then...She didn't want to think about.

Fiona whimpered and moaned at the sensation, not in pleasure, but in despair. It was such a shock to her system, her jaw trembled as she did so, feeling lightheaded and rather sick to her stomach.

"There, there..." He comforted as he did so, gently raising his hand from the grip and tapping her leg.

"...You're doing so well, my dear. Just hold on...Almost done."

At this he pushed it in fully, so much that he could no longer hold it with his fingers. Instead, he took his thumb and used it to push it into almost totally until it disappeared into the folds of her body. It entered her cervical cavity, using the very edges his fingers to push it about in her body. Fiona let a few tears roll down her cheek, and she gasped at the feel of the thin metal rod penetrating her as far as it would go. His gaze went from her face to her opening, careful to watch that he wouldn't lose it inside of her. To her it felt horrible, it felt unnatural...His grip on her leg was extreme, and he fought the urge to stimulate her clitoris while he was down there, he had done it to woman before...He could very easily make her wail like a cat in heat.

Not yet...But he would most assuredly get his chance.

"Please...Get it out, please..."

He smiled in a rather satisfied fashion, then nodded.

"As you wish, M' lady, I'm finished."

With this, he reached down and carefully pried his fingers back into her, grabbing the edge after it slipped away from him several times. For a moment he was afraid he wouldn't be able to, but he pushed his fingers in deeper to retrieve it. She felt this, and despite her amazing cooperation she now started to squirm again. His grip grew tighter on her leg in warning and she stopped, letting him pry more into her vaginal cavity and pulling it out carefully. Immediately he felt his spirits lift in hope as the light shone on the rod, it was just plain shimmering in vaginal and cervical fluids, wet and hibiscus, white, practically flowing out of her in a river now that it was stimulated.

Despite her small moans of relief and shame, he was too shocked and excited of the result, ignoring her as he lifted the rod up to the light. It was covered in thick, white fluid. Produced by the vagina so that sperm may be able to travel easier to the uterus for insemination, and it was evidence that she now had an egg in her womb, or at least would soon, ready to be fertilized, taunting him, waiting for him...

She was ovulating.

Fiona would be in this state now for several days, and in those days he would make such orgasmic love to her that her world would spin, she would see stars, she would shout to the heavens, and she would know Heaven itself in his arms and under his body. He would taste her flesh, the inside of her delicious, succulent womanhood as he lapped at it ravenously. She would scream, she would pant, he was positive of it. Maybe she would even say she loved him... That, oddly enough, was the most erotic and desirable thing he was hoping for.

He smiled broadly, then set the instrument down. Right now he could care less where. It didn't matter anymore, nothing else mattered anymore. Once she was healthy, once she ate, once she awakened, once she was healthy and comfortable...He would finally bed his new mistress. He would make her feel the joy of being his Lady to his Lordship.

Riccardo could barely believe it. He may have taken control of the castle when he usurped Lorenzo, but now that he was officially dead, body rotting in the tunnel. Now, truly, he was the Lord of the castle, the next in line. It would have been Ugo had he still been alive. That, of course, was no longer an issue. This also technically made Fiona the Lady by rights, though she would have became one regardless, as she was the only "real" woman that resided there, and technically owned it. Legally he was considered both as an employee of the castle and Lorenzo's son. However, it was not to be given to him, but to Ugo. It was even in his will. With him dead, it automatically would go to his daughter. So in reality, Fiona owned this whole estate. It wouldn't matter, however, as he would control her, and pay the bills, and in the end it was all really both of theirs by rights. Though he knew that in the end he really deserved it, and that it was rightfully his alone. He stayed at the castle, not Ugo, he continued to clone, he was just as much a son as he was...Why wasn't it given to him?

No matter. Fiona was his. The castle was his. End of story...Or rather, for him, it was just the beginning.

Watching her, she very gingerly found the strength to close her legs. The Sedatio may have been beginning to wear off. It didn't really concern him at this point, it was time for the second stage of her recovery. He was going to take her back to Belli Castle.

"You are going to use the rest facility, then you are going to go to sleep, dear. Tomorrow will be a big day for you, I want you to be comfortable, rested, and happy."

Now she could barely believe it. He was going to leave her alone? Let her sleep? Let her use the bathroom without her practically kissing his ass for it? She just barely managed to pull herself into a sit on the table, then as she stared at the wall across from her in shock and horror...She felt, down there, something start to slip out. Fiona knew why this was, from him sticking that thing down there, it made her involuntarily wet, it made her practically leak all over the place. Now she sat half naked in front of the man, breasts out, shirt rolled up and her whole bottom exposed...What was there to be embarrassed about anymore?

Everything. It was everything. She covered one hand in front of her breasts to block his view of her nipples, and the other down by her crotch, then shuddered as her face flushed again and her eyes started to leak with tears. Her face was already so wet, so soaked. Right now she couldn't believe any of this, not any of it, was really happening to her. Riccardo in her mind was just a sick fucking pervert who like to lick things and shove them up virgin girl's cunts. She looked away from his hungry gaze, which seemed to intensify since he pulled that...thing out of her. How she was relieved to have it out of there, it was uncomfortable to say the least. The fact that he was touching her to get it in and then out was enough to want to make her put a bullet in her head.

Why...? Why any of this? She just wanted to crawl into one of those alchemy room holes and sit there, rocking back and forth as she sung to herself. The image was so oddly comforting in her mind, she wasn't sure why. There, nobody could ever seem to find her, knew where she was...There, she was safe. And Hewie, how she wanted her white shepherd back. How she would do anything to feel him next to her again. That was a comfort she did want next to her, not one she was struggling to reject.

With a sigh, she couldn't help but agree with his wisdom. She could always escape later...Right now, she needed a break from the run. Riccardo's proposal sounded like a good one. She had run too long, too far. Fiona was chased by a large freak, had killed a woman, had been chased by a gun-wielding sex pervert murderer in a hood, then captured and held in a cube then chased and had her life nearly taken from her by an old man. To say she had been through a lot would be an understatement. A shower, a nap, some food, sounded really good right about now. She would never get over what had just happened, and it beat away in her brain like her own heartbeat in her chest. But she knew that the best thing to do was go on, to try and make it past today, to try and escape another day. She could think about it later, or better yet, never at all, but right now...Fiona needed rest, she needed it more then anything. The game of cat and mouse had ended long ago, now it was time for the cat to carry away his prize to devour later.

"Can...Can I eat, too?" She put gingerly, her stomach pleading for something.

"Why, of course you can. Something short, however. You need to save your appetite for the grand dinner the maid will prepare us later in the evening."

Fiona shuddered. She didn't have the heart or the desire to tell the man that the maid was dead...Hanging suspended from a shard of glass in that hall of globes with the shattered dome that was no more. It lay in pieces on the floor, letting in the semi-chilly early fall air. She had a feeling Riccardo would indeed find out eventually, but until he did she would remain quiet on the subject, she just nodded in return, eyes drawn away from him.

"Here..." He remarked, putting his hand on Fiona's shoulder, making her jump a bit.

"I'll take you there."

Surprisingly enough to him, she jerked away. The formula really was beginning to wear off.

"I can walk. I have legs."

He pulled his hand away, then reached forward, gently placing his cupped fingers below her chin. This time, she didn't react. She blinked, a tear being caught in her eye lashes, and she shuddered. Then, oddly enough, whimpered. Except, this wasn't from pain or disdain. It sounded almost like pleasure to his ears.

The warmth and roughness of his hand was strangely comforting to her chilled, Azoth-depleted body. It came as a shock, a welcome shock. She hated it. Hated him. For doing all this to her, but mostly for making her feel good to his advances. Practically freezing, starving, and dehydrating her then saving her life, she had no choice but to let him do as he pleased. She owed him everything now...His hand now felt recognizable, and it reminded her off what had just happened. Those same hands touching her down there and spreading her. During the whole ordeal, she had blocked it out, didn't think about it, practically didn't really feel him at all...Now, it was all coming back, and it invoked something within her she had never felt before.

Carefully, slowly, he forcibly turned her face in his direction ever so slightly. Once again he moved his face towards hers, she could see the look in his eyes and feel his hot breath. And just as before, she moved her face back. This time more in haste and with such vile hate that she appeared close to spitting in his face. Had he stayed there a moment longer, he was positive she would have. He made a small groan of disappointment in his throat and pulled back. Still, he came only a few feet from her face, and looked into her eyes.

"I can see it in your eyes, Fiona..." He told her, his voice husky and somewhat different then before.

"...You want me to pleasure you, don't you?"

She gasped, eyes narrowing into hateful slits.

"I'd rather...die. You filthy thing...I want nothing to do with you!"

He laughed a little, and she had to look away, his laugh reminding her of the one he used after he killed her parents, it was too damaging to her fragile mind and in this delicate state.

"Well, we'll just have to see about that..."

In one fell swoop, he reached below her legs and placed his hand from her face to her back, and picked her up. She made a small whimper again, but this one was of protest. She kicked a little and tried to push away, but he sort of threw her into the air towards himself and pulled her closer. He made a "umph" noise in his throat from exertion, and almost immediately went to carry her out the door.

Fiona couldn't believe that she said that...It wasn't like her. Even in school, if made fun of or bullied, she turned away or ignored them. Her sweet, lyrical voice would make any insult sound weak anyway. She couldn't stand hurting anyone's feelings, whether they deserved it or not. Even a man that had done so much to her in every way that included killing her parents and molesting her...He had saved her life. He had been concerned. Now guilt nagged at her, tore at her, ate at her insides. She would not be satisfied until she apologized. He may have touched her...But in the least he had kept his promise. He had not raped her...Though she didn't really understand why he did what he did.

Once more she fought, but the drug was still in her system, and it made her woozy. Suddenly she felt like she needed to lay down, and her head spun. Her skull pounded, and it fell back and rolled over the man's arm that cradled her rather like a baby. He laughed a little in his throat as he saw this, standing before a closed door.

"There we go..." He mused, and smiled down at her.

"...Relax, I'll take care of you, M' Lady. Nobody will ever hurt you ever again..."

It was all she heard as she began to drift off to sleep, his words echoing in her head. For a moment it sounded like he was fading away, like he was in another room completely. The way he walked became rhythmic, became like a lullaby, and it did an effective job, for it lulled her to sleep. It made her want to just say "Fuck it" to it all, and feel herself under the disgusting man's body, let him kiss her, let him do whatever he wanted. It would be so easy, and she could feel better, feel warm...Feel complete. She felt her stomach churn at the thought, and put it out of her imagination again. In her haze, she felt something soft and oddly reassuring. Her arms wound closer to it, heedless and uncaring. Riccardo looked down at the woman clinging to him unexpectedly again.

He stopped in the mirrored hallway that seemed to have one now broken, and looked down at her. Her arms and face once again trying to be close to him in every way. There wasn't much he could do in this position, but craned his neck down as far as he could get it, lifting her head up with his arm closer. She felt her lovely breath on his deformed skin, and brushed his lips to hers. She moaned a bit and shifted, away from him again. He was positive this was unintended. Still, it spoke a lot to him...Even in her sleep she refused him.

Something told him she may very well always be like this. She may very well never let him into her womb, into her heart. He would try, he would try anything and everything. Riccardo planned to take her tomorrow, willing or no. If she gave in to his seduction, it would be an experience she would never forget as long as she lived. If he had to take her by force, he would do his best to make the insemination as enjoyable as possible. He had a whole two days to express his care for her, feeding her until she nearly burst so that she may be healthy to grow and bear his child. And if she didn't eat, he would have to force, that, too. From the sound of things, however, she seemed rather hungry.

Patience. It was a virtue, and luckily enough for him he had it. There was still the issue of the dog, whom he had left in the cell with food but no water. No matter. As she slept, he would go back and retrieve the unruly mutt. There was also a very odd breeze permeating the lower floor of the mansion. He never did go into the hall of globes to search for Lorenzo, there was just no good reason to. He knew it was a dead-end, without a single hiding spot, and was up a flight of stairs. He wouldn't be there, quite simply put. Maybe that old glass dome had finally shattered, he would have to have a look.

Later he would have to ask Fiona just what she was doing about the mansion when the door to it was locked and hidden by a series of puzzles that only those that dwelled here had the ability to instantly unlock at will. She didn't, which means she would have had to solve them all...And some of them had deadly results if failed. For a moment he considered how easily it would have been for Fiona to have perished in the halls of his own home. He didn't want to think about it. Had he known the girl was up and running about at the time, he would have turned off the traps. Quite honestly, he had thought the girl would be happy to be there, never expecting her to even leave her room. Which was why he was in the music hall neigh the whole time, he was planning on greeting her by walking out the loft door when she woke up. Then he remembered the trap entrance, and he was about to unlock it when he saw her down the hall, ready to be attacked by his own Gardner. Luckily, she had solved it easily enough by herself before he could get there. Such a clever girl...

Riccardo walked briskly outside into the morning air. It was still dark out, the lights about the courtyard were still on, but they hardly illuminated anything. The moths had since stopped collecting about it in a fruitless attempt to grasp the shielded bulb. The sky was mostly a dark blue, the very fringes towards the horizon bearing a light blue that indicated the coming sunlight for the day. It reminded him both how late and how early it really was. He made his way back through the yard, up the steps, and made his way into the dining room, up another set of steps, and was walking towards the guest room.

There he was, at the hallway to the vacant room. Debilitas.

As his failed creation saw and heard him scale the steps his dolly in his arms, he started to flee. He knew that his master would be furious, he would be scolded and put out again. Not only was he in the castle, a definite no-no, but he was sure that he would be punished for trying to take his dolly. He remembered seeing him return with the pretty toy, walking through the door with it and a big smile on his face. He nodded to his creation, giving him a slight acknowledgement and greeting, and then eyed him in a frightening matter.

"Her name is Fiona. You are not to touch her." He told the giant.

"Do you hear me? Leave her alone. Don't touch."

Debilitas eyed the master's nice new dolly, wondering why he had never seen him with one before this. He gave him nice dolls all the time to keep him happy, he think he got them from the nursery. To him this was just that, another one for his collection. This one came from outside the castle gates, this one had bland clothes. She was beautiful. Yet he understood his master's words, to a point, anyway. Short Latin phrases were what he was raised with to comprehend, and in the end they were best for getting him to stop or leave, like commands for a dog. Still, he got the just of what was said, and nodded. Then his master shut the front door on him, hearing it lock. Later, he waited outside the guest room door, and took the dolly for himself. He knew a fine place for her, he could lock her downstairs while he cut meat, as ordered by the maid, who technically was of higher authority around there then he was. When finished, he would take her out and play with her.

Yet the thunderstorm that had been going on outside the whole time decided to flare up once more before it died out, the lightening frightened him, always being a foreign and monstrous thing to him as he did not comprehend it. He left before his work was done, or before he could take his dolly out. Debilitas just hoped that his master wouldn't notice his dolly gone, or at least not blame him for it. Then he found her again, as he was playing with his more placid, stiff dolls that did nothing when touched. He looked from her to the doll, and decided that he was rather tired of the old, bisque thing that started to smell funny and was dirty. This dolly would be so much more fun! She was clean, she smelled so nice...

Somehow, this dolly was much more able...She could move! Yet he found it odd that it actually ran from him. And for some reason, he enjoyed the very sight of her struggling on the ground, and sprinting away. So, he gave chase. Debilitas knew to a certain extent that this was a living thing, but that it was a mere living doll. It wasn't capable of pain, it was only a toy for him to play with. All his toys never seemed to hold up long with him, ripping them to pieces or shredding them apart within hours like a over-exuberant dog with a stuffed animal. Oddly enough, this dolly gave him a very strange feeling, he couldn't quite understand it. He scratched himself down there, trying to relieve it. What was this? Whatever it was, he knew it had something to do with this new dolly, and that he would have to catch her in order to find out, first.

For a small while he lost her, then he found her again as she walked into the storage room. He enjoyed the little game of hide and seek, and decided it was his turn as he hid behind the kitchen counter and waited for her to return. Then he got the jump from her behind the kitchen counter, swatting at her as she ran from him and out the door. As he followed, he caught her at the steps outside the kitchen. At first he didn't recognize her as he looked in her direction, then his slow mind came to and he turned back. His dolly!

As he approached, he then heard the booming tone of his master.

"Exire, Debilitas!"

He could tell by his mere tone that he was angry, absolutely enraged. Debilitas knew his master well, knew when he was pissed beyond all comprehension, and especially at him. He did it often, going into fits or rants at his creation when he disobeyed. One rule he broke often was being in the castle, which was forbidden. Now he was both guilty of this offense, and trying to steel his master's very precious dolly, whom he seemed to want back very badly. He knew that the minute he was caught alone, he would be scolded, if not worse. But he knew what "Exire" meant, to take exit, and he did just this. He made his way to his shack, giving his master and dolly one final, pleading look.

Several hours past, and he waited, sitting on the dirty bed as he looked into space. He waited with apprehension for that door to open, and when it did, it flew open. His master came storming in, hooded, which he tended to do even among the members of his own family. Luckily enough, he didn't have his gun with him. The gun scared Debilitas, he didn't understand what it really even was, but just that he liked to tap it to his palm when he talked to the giant in a stern or threatening manner, usually when he disobeyed him, all to accentuate a point. Each time he wanted to make one, he slammed it into his hand, and yelled at the top of his lungs.

Now, he seemed a whole new level of pissed. He stood up, and almost shook with terror as the man half his size made his way into the shack. Riccardo came forward, and slapped him across the face. It always stung his hand like hell, but he never did care much. He knew it actually did hurt him more then it did the monster, but it was more to prove a point. It was the principal of the thing.

"You filthy, stupid, waste! What did I say to you!? What did I tell you?! Did I not order you, very specifically, to stay away from her!?"

His master was bellowing as loud as he could, the part of his face that he could see red from anger. Debilitas looked away, his eyes large and beginning to fill with tears, he could understand very little of what his master was shouting but knew he was very upset at being disobeyed.

"...And what were you even doing in the residence!? I told you repetitively, Debilitas, not to enter the house unless I give permission! You are not fit for it, too dirty, too clumsy, too destructive to fit in. We tried it before, didn't we? It didn't work, did it?"

The master leaned in, expecting an answer.

"Didn't it?"

He shook his head, remembering it well.

Several years ago they tried it, he let the monstrosity in the house to see how he would fare amongst the civilized members of the family. He broke a chair, got a couch filthy by sitting on it, and tried to grab a hold of Daniella. Though he can't say he ever liked the maid, he sure didn't want to go without one now that he knew the luxury of a constantly clean residence and gourmet food. He swatted at her, then grabbed and tried to embrace her. She went limp like the living doll that she was, and had to be rescued by his master. Told to set her down and that "she was no toy!", Riccardo had to admit a small part of it was the protective side in him, not wanting to see her crushed into bits before his eyes. He had her once, in a bed, and although nothing ever came of it, and it wasn't very good, it was enough to spur his urge to care just a little about her.

Now, he had to be reminded the same lesson, again. This time he would be sure he got it.

"There's a good reason I built you this shack. To grant you shelter out here, so that you could have a bed and a place to eat and be comfortable, out of the elements. I could have just as easily left you out in the cold."

At this, he kicked the nearby wall, admiring his handiwork from back when he was a young man. Not too shabby...If he said so himself.

"Why were you chasing her? Hmmm? What did you think you were going to do?"

The giant shrugged, still averting his fierce gaze.

"She is mine." He stressed, his voice rather cold.

"You will not touch her...Speak to her...Look at her. I swear to everything sacred in this world that I will do something very, very painful and very, very horrible to you if I see it again. And if I find her..."

He seemed to hesitate with the word, turning his gaze to the side then back, literally not wanting to say it in any way.

"...Dead, or...violated in any way...I won't hesitate to slaughter you in the worst was possibly imaginable...Understand me?"

Barely so, but he heard his strained voice, knew he was being warned, and grunted as he nodded.

"Well, I sure as bloody hell hope you do, you sick cretin...For your own sake. I've put up with so much of you're bullshit, you know that? Too much...I've been too lax, too patient with you..." He started to turn around, then stopped.

"Stay here. And I mean it. She is sleeping in the guest suite, there she is to remain until I return. I will be gone all night, hunting that wretch of an old man in the mansion..."

Looking up hopefully at this, he now hoped he would be leaving soon. The "old man" as he always called him, was a cruel man who never made eye contact with him and very obviously hated his guts. He barely even acknowledged his existence, but when he did, and he was outside, he would scream for him to "get back to work" if he so much as looked at the man in the wheelchair. To Lorenzo, he was nothing but a servant like his Daniella, and expected him to be just as loyal and soulless. Just as mechanical.

"...and will be back by morning. You will leave her be. If she does somehow happen upon you, do not look at her, do not touch her, do not a thing. The poor girl has been through enough, and I know you positively frighten her to death..."

That's my job... Riccardo thought to himself with a inward smile.

"Either way, be civil. If she approaches you, 'Smile and wave' if you have to, but then get away. Stay away. I'm leaving you with this warning, don't test my patience. I don't believe it can stretch much thinner tonight...It would be wise for you not to find out."

He turned and opened the door, ready to leave, and he turned again.

"Oh, that dog that I captured a month ago is roaming the grounds on his own accord. Normally I wouldn't mind, but he's been stealing and burying formulas all over the place...He even got into the basement and stole some of that lamb that was supposed to be our supper...Luckily there was enough leftover. The maid is preparing it now. Regardless, he's become a bother, and I no longer require his Azoth. If you come across the mutt, find something and tie him up with it. I'll find something useful to do with him when I'm finished..."

With that, he walked out and slammed the door rudely behind him. Debilitas made an angry grunt in his throat, then bellowed into the air, slamming the wall of the make-shift shack. His master was always demanding things of him...He did bring him whatever he needed, food, toys, and for this he was still grateful to the man. In the end, he was his creator, and held a strange sort of power over him. He had no choice but to do as he said. And, he listened, he tended to do what told...Still that dolly, it held a power over him, too. The same kind, it was very odd. It was like the two were one of the same. He had been told that he was a clone of his master, yet he somehow felt that the dolly and his own master were more alike, smelled the same, looked the same, more so then even him and his own creator.

It was what was drawing him to her...And now he had to have his dolly back.

Despite his master's warnings, he would wait for him to leave, then try to grab her again. Now he knew where she was, and if he could get her while she was still asleep, it would be just like a normal dolly, all limp and easy to hug and tear apart. She would never even wake up, so he wouldn't have to hear her scream out in pain. It was perfect.

He did just this, and as he wondered into the courtyard via passing through the castle, out the front door, and opened the gate he had to unlock, he saw just the dog he was told to tie up. The white shepherd was stalking a rabbit by the kennel, the same one that he had escaped out of earlier that month. Quickly, he left the dog before he noticed he was there, and went to grab some wire that was sitting on a spool back in the storeroom beneath the steps. When he returned, it saw him first, and he ran off towards the dungeon with his tail between his legs and barking in fright. Yet the door had been closed by whoever left it last, it was for some time.

Debilitas was able to corner the animal. It's hackles stood up, tongue slipping out in a red ribbon between his teeth in submission as he backed away into a corner. Hewie tried to run past him from fear, but was grabbed by the scruff as he went by the behemoth. He yelped loudly and came back to bite him, only to be shaken by the loose skin about his neck and was effectively corrected for his action. Then he dragged the dog to the tree, and tied him up in a cruel, haphazard way that dug deeply into the dog's neck and acted more like a noose. He backed away, and the animal strained on the wire as it once again tried to attack, jumping about on his back legs, but his barks turned to whimpers as the wire dug into his neck. Slowly, he ceased, and finally lay down on the strange set of steps at the tree in defeat.

The dog cried harshly and painfully, but he didn't care. He had done as his master had ordered, that's the important thing. He didn't question why he would do this, but go against what had just been ordered of him as well. It wasn't even a thought. Although he would always do as the hooded man that claimed to be his creator always told him to do. He would at times go against it in able to obtain the few pleasures in life he spied others enjoying before him. It was one thing to tie up a meddlesome dog, another to not go into the castle or leave the special dolly alone. The comfort of the estate and the lull of the dolly herself was too great a call for him to resist.

As he walked back up the steps, he was about to go towards the guest suite when he heard a door open. He immediately thought of his master, and didn't want to be caught all the way over here, somewhere he was allowed but still too close to the dolly for his comfort. He ran out the gate where he came, locking it, and back towards the entrance. There he waited until he heard it leave, and he came back out. Without looking, he quietly moved back through the gate and into her room, leaving the gate swinging unlocked in the breeze in his haste. She wasn't there! Still, the bed smelled like her, so he sat upon it, a rather nice one that was far softer and cleaner then his own. He bounced on it a little, swinging his feet much like a child would.

Then the he heard the door open, but he did not fear, he could smell her even from there. The dolly was up and walking again, and looked up, seeing him there. She looked horrified and fell backwards onto the floor, and he did as his master told, he smiled and waved, trying his best to say "hi", but he knew it wouldn't help. He tried to get his dolly again, but that dog...It was back! It had somehow escaped from it's restraints and came in through the door she left open. It attacked him, biting his arm and latching on, and in response he ran in fright, ever since then his chase of her would be far more difficult.

He didn't see his master the rest of his night, but he saw his dolly many times...And the dog. He attacked him nearly every time he saw it, launching himself at the monstrosity and biting with every ounce of strength he had left. Once, he saw her on the balcony and stalked over to her, then it collapsed and he hit the stone ground and was knocked out for a mere few minutes, then managed to stumble away shortly thereafter with her long gone. And before even that, he was pushed off the castle stairway in the museum, too. Again, she was gone when he came to. Then he saw her towards the hallway that led to his shack, and from nowhere the dog jumped him from behind and sunk his teeth into his neck, causing an unholy pain that sent him running...Why was this animal so hateful of him? All he wanted was that dolly...Regardless, when he got the chance, that mutt would get his. He had to deal with dogs in the past for his master, killing them with a snap of the neck if they were too unruly to extract Azoth from alive. It was always a last resort, though, as dead Azoth was far less effective then live. That's what he told him, anyway.

And the dolly hurt him, too. Several times she kicked him, or threw something at him that felt tingly and painful, it stopped him from moving and allowed her to sic the dog or kick him some more. There were little triangular rock-like things she placed on the ground, and when he stepped on them, would explode in a cloud of particles and hurt him dearly. At one point, in the music room, she even pushed the cabinet down on him and temporarily halted his pursuit. That angered him most of all...

Sometimes he remembered the dolly's name... Fiona.

"Fion-a! Fion-a!" He would chant excitedly, but she would never come, she would just run the other way.

Then she found the chapel, and he followed her in, locking the door behind him to prevent her escape. Now, it would end. He was tired of the cat and mouse game his master seemed to love. As he advanced, she dodged him, sicced the dog, and appeared to be doing something to the ropes that held the chandelier. No matter, it would all be over soon, he took no notice. He threw the dog off of him once more, then strutted towards her for what he considered would be the last time. He stopped, cracked his neck, and took a few more steps. Just then, he heard a strange noise from above, and looked up. The chandelier! It was the last thing he saw as he was knocked out, the next was darkness.

His vision was blurry, but it came back almost immediately. The dolly was no longer there...In it's place an angel, no... a Goddess. She glowed with a white light, appearing as a vengeful Valkyrie that had punished him for his ill deed. Right away he regretted his decision to ever chase after the Goddess and her white guardian angel. She was capable of great power, of felling objects from the sky to gain revenge and protect herself. Now she had also sparred his life, and was in her dept. Carefully, he crawled out from the shattered, expensive chandelier, and bowed to her in the most graceful way he could manage. He had desperately hoped she had forgiven him, earned her acceptance...In the same sense, he was terrified of her, and hoped to never see her again. Debilitas hobbled away, where he would spend the rest of the night in his shack.

But his hopes were dashed, for the Goddess, Fiona, did return. He remembered earlier he followed her to his shack, when she took a dolly of his and threw it right at him. All his thoughts of Fiona ceased as he saw his precious possession on the floor. He got down and picked it up, wailing horribly over it. To him, there was no difference between a person and a dolly, the only real things in his life being the members of the castle that held power over him. Anything else was a plaything that was special to him. When he saw his dolly hurled upon his body then on the floor...It was like a child of his was just dropped upon the ground. But now, she looked hesitant, afraid as she walked up to him. Perhaps she wanted to know a way out of the castle, or some assistance with something...Or maybe it was an innate curiosity or a desire to find out what he was, why he was there...Or just plain pity. Either way, she couldn't work up any more courage to say anything, and she cowered in front of him. He shook even more then her, his massive form trembling to her thinner one. With suddenness, he fell to his knees before her, clasping his hands together in a pleading manner to beg for mercy.

Then he offered her the only thing he could give her as a way to appease the great Valkyrie, a key. It opened a door in the bathroom that contained a table and some chairs, it had long ago been a sort of hideout for the family during WWII, or at least, that's what his master rambled on about one day. It was disguised to look like the stall of a bathroom, who would think to check there? It had long since been cleaned out of all food, and the beds. Luckily enough, the bombs never fell upon the place, the Nazis never did invade, it was never used. It still contained a set of lovely boots derived from alchemy, he hoped she got them. They were actually made for a man, but the minute she would try them on, they would conform to her shape as if by magic.

As morning came, he decided to take advantage of his master's leave and make way for the castle, hoping he would not meet the Goddess again. He was allowed in the castle if he was passing through to a courtyard to do work, or to retrieve equipment, but only at night during the few short hours the master slept, if at all. He would know this if the light in the lab was on or not, but knew in this case he had left it on and was somewhere else. So he took a pair of hedge clippers from below the kitchen steps, making it look like he was actually busy. Something told him that, despite this, he would be yelled at. He was right.

Now he stood there, hood down, which he had only seen him like a few times before, all when he had unintentionally left it down or he had been caught unaware. It seemed different now, like he didn't care. He wore his deformity like a badge of honor, his face red and a vein practically bulging from his forehead. His teeth were gritted, eyes like that of some mythological monster. He looked tired, shaky, ready to fall over at any moment. In fact, on cue, he swayed forward and just barely kept to his feet, yet kept his dolly in his arms just the same. His right side was bloody all the way to his leg, the stain thinning as it got to his ankle. He was sweaty and covered in perspiration. It had appeared that now was not the time to toy with his master.

"You..." He shuddered, teeth bared like some sort of animal. His voice was on the edge of anger and absolute rage.

"...Get back here."

Debilitas looked more terrified then ever, and Riccardo watched as the monster shuffled shamefully back towards him. He stopped a mere few feet from where he stood at a few steps down from the top of the staircase. His eyes were downcast, the pair of sheers hanging loosely in his hand.

"What...are...you...doing...in...here?" He laid out each word carefully and sharply, his voice husky.

The giant grunted and lifted up the shears, Riccardo just shook his head.

"That is not a good excuse." He retorted rudely.

"I told you not to be near her. And if she was still in her bed, you would have been too near her for my comfort. And I remember telling you that you are only allowed in the castle when I am asleep. Am I asleep, Debilitas?"

Still looking down, he shook his head with a grunt of defeat.

"Then why are you...here?"

Again, he just looked at his feet. Remaining quiet.

Luckily enough for Debilitas, Riccardo did not know of his chase of her throughout the castle. Had he, the monster would have been shot dead the moment he crested the steps. The gun was still in the loop of rope that encircled his waist, not loaded, but could be in a matter of moments. It wouldn't have been much of a problem for him, he always tended to work fluidly under even the most enraged of situations.

Riccardo sighed angrily, once again considering his failed creation. He thought of the giant as rather nasty parallel to himself, being a freak that didn't come out quite right. Yet this thing was nothing like him, everything about him different in every way. Yet because of this, he pitied him, and placed more of the blame on himself for his disobedience then the actual creature.

He created Debilitas when he was a younger man, at thirty five years of age. It was in one of his first batches of clones. It was too young for him to be trying, he knew it, too. He had not yet acquired all the knowledge available to do it at nearly the level of expertise that Lorenzo had obtained. The old man told him this, and he admitted it all was true. Still he knew his body condition, despite being a young man, he had the body of a forty five year old and it was getting worse by the month. His growth was accelerated, only recently had it balanced out to normal and he actually looked his age. But he knew his deformities and deficiencies, and one year after Ugo left, and it was positive he wasn't coming back, he knew what he had to do. If he didn't try now, he may never get the chance. Yet even with his lack of total and absolute knowledge on the subject, he was able to accomplish such a task. Unfortunately, even then his body was defiled and rotten, and could only produce deformity. At least then it could produce something with a relatively functioning mind and body, worlds better then his current ones. Despite his improvements in the process itself, his body would never produce anything better, in spite of his numerous attempts to do so. Debilitas was the rather successful failure of them all.

To him it was apparent what happened. Although his clone, there appeared to be too much deviation from his own genetic structure to work properly. It was a combination of this and his lack of expertise. His eyes were of a brown shade, the mark of Aureolus Belli nothing but dried, flaky skin on his left shoulder... There was also the fact of the matter that he obviously had mental retardation and severe downs syndrome. And by all rights he should also had at least one of his facial scars, but didn't, meaning that he was at least successful in this regard. But in the end it meant the worse for him, as this implied little of his actual genetic makeup passed through. The egg created was incomplete in his whole DNA, as it was already broken up from his own body deterioration. Only a sliver of his Azoth, a portion of his structure, made it through. Everything else was useless filler that resulted in his incomplete body and deformed physique and brain.

It made him ill to even look at him...To think about him. In the end it shamed him more then anything. It reminded him of the situation with his own father, of him creating himself and failing, leading to his misery. He also knew that both were mistakes, never intending to make something faulty. But it happened. When Debilitas turned out the way he did, he was horrified. He watched it grow in the tube, but it looked relatively normal at first. When born, it then grew within a matter of weeks, and he knew it was far from that. For some time he let it cry, before finally tending to it and giving it some milk. He wouldn't look at him as he cared for him, and would often neglect the creation more then he knew he probably should have. Luckily enough, he matured quickly, and his infancy didn't last long at all and was a large child right before his eyes at only two years of age. He knew he should have killed him, but found it hard to...It stayed his hand, he finally had what he always wanted but was never allowed to have, a creation.

But this was not his son, he never considered him a son in any way. A son was healthy, desired, and loved. He was none of these. Sometimes he wondered if it was best to kill the creation, and his guilt would no longer be walking about and breathing, but couldn't bring himself to load and raise the gun. It was still a piece of him on this Earth, he was still the closest thing he ever had to an heir. He still had a purpose, to serve the family as a worker. A part of him loathed both him and the monster. The monster because he should have been a healthy boy, should have come out right...And himself because he had become his father. It made him sick, and he tried his best not to think about it.

He may have failed, but it was because his own creator failed him, first. And he had never done...those sorts of horrible things to the creature at all... Thinking about that particular facet of his relationship to his father always made his hands ball into fists and nearly bleed from the pressure.

Riccardo built the shed to do just what he always wanted, to shut the monster out. Not only was he always so filthy and disgusting, but he was also clumsy and destroyed any and everything in his wake. But most of all to keep him away from his sight and out of his mind. Yet he found himself, when he did order something of the beast, rambling on for no apparent reason, all the while not looking into his face. He knew the monstrosity didn't understand all but the most basic of phrases, and the most urgent were always said in Latin to catch his attention, it was a language they both actually knew well. He didn't know why he would go on and on, perhaps it was because he would never talk back or fully understand. Voicing his thoughts and knowledge to somebody...anybody...made him feel better and more confident. It made him feel like somebody was finally listening.

The beast had brown eyes, not blue like his own. Eye color didn't always go over 100 with cloning, especially one as grossly poorly done and processed as his. He was huge, towering over him, his body massive and hair nothing but a few wisps on his head. His eyes were larger then they should be, like saucers. Blood stained his shirt from butchering meat and carrying it to the kitchen which was usually over his shoulder, one of his many jobs. His fingers ended in sharp, claw-like nails, and his teeth were few and rotten. The voice box never formed correctly, which meant his words were broken and slurred. To top it off, he smelled horribly. Even Riccardo was not used to it, and wrinkled his nose as he could barely stand it.

As he watched, Debilitas tried to reach forward, his hand slowly moving towards the sleeping girl in his arms. As he saw this, his eyes widened, then turned into slits as he looked into the eyes of his creation. Riccardo seemed to do a full-body shake, like something was about to snap within him. With a slow breath, he exhaled out through his clenched teeth.

"Dolly...?" The monster tried to say the best he could.

Debilitas knew this was still the Goddess, but seeing her weak like this again had him starting to wonder if she had somehow reverted back. Then he saw his master's face, knew he was wrong, knew he should stop...and pulled his hand away.

"Don't you ever..." He began, then took a step forward, and made Debilitas take a step back. Riccardo laughed once in his throat, then jerked his head in a sort of nervous twitch.

"...do that again."

Now he looked at his master in absolute fear, now knowing he was fully serious. If he disobeyed, surely, he would be killed this time.

With an icy stare, he slowly backed away, and let him walk past. Riccardo took the next few steps, his gaze focused on the giant, giving him the dirtiest, foulest, most evil look he could muster. He wanted the creation to know his wrath and think him serious. Then the bundle in his arms made a small coo, her head rolling softly from one side to another.

"Damn!" He cursed under his breath, then looked in the creature's direction.

"Look what you went and did!" Riccardo yelled in a loud whisper.

"You better hope she doesn't wake up..." He shot him another dirty glance, and he looked away in response, drooping his head in defeat and shame.

Riccardo made his way back to the guest suite, exactly where all of this had begun. He remembered doing this exact same thing to her late the night before yesterday. Laying her on the soft bed and checking her over. When she awoke, he would make sure she reached the bathroom and was given something to eat. Had she not been asleep, he may well have done such a thing already. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep in his arms, and found himself filling with a glowing warmth at the thought.

He opened the door with his free fingers, then used his back and shoulder to hold then push it open. His arms felt like they were going to just fall off. Really, he had enough of this for some time. Though he was always a strong man, he could only be pushed so far. Especially since he had just been stabbed a mere few hours ago. As he walked into the room, he stopped and looked forward, his jaw falling slightly at the sight. The window had been completely shattered, radiating from the center, oddly enough, a massive hole there that was jagged and sharp. Part in haste and care, he laid Fiona on the bed, then walked over towards it. His protected feet crunched the broken glass, looking it over from top to bottom. A sliver of blood lined the floor, but that was all. What in the hell happened?

There was that maid; whom he hadn’t seen all night. She liked to brake glass of all kinds if she saw herself in it, including the mirrors. It irritated him greatly to think he couldn't even see his own face in his own castle, he had to use small hand-mirrors that he kept hidden away in order to shave or check his scars to make sure they hadn't become infected. Not that he particularly cared to see his face at all; he thought himself hideous and hid it in one way or another to all those he could, even those that had seen it before. He wasn't sure why he was like this, why should he be ashamed of himself amongst his own home? All he knew was that the minute he felt those eyes upon him, he felt judged, imagining the thoughts in their heads...And he couldn't have it. Yet Fiona...she was different. He didn't care, in fact, he wanted her to gaze upon him, into his eyes, into his soul...This was the only person in his whole life he had ever opened himself to. It shocked even him.

Well, he would have to find Daniella, wouldn't he? She needed to explain herself to him. It crossed his mind that the stiff, robot-like creation of his now dead father might very well have frightened the girl out of the room. He did order her to prepare food for the young miss, he hoped that's all she did. From what he knew, she had stayed in there after he told Debilitas to leave, and had been there until this apparent incident. He would have to find out. Also, he needed to inform her just who the new Lord of the castle was. It fell to him, and he would uphold it well. The tyrant was dead, long live the heir. The unwanted heir, but one nonetheless, with the heiress right next to him on his figurative throne. The maid would bow to his and her will now, no other. Soon she would call him master, would never refuse him with silence again. Still she would need to see evidence, and he would show her the proof, the corpse of his creator.

Then he turned and walked back to his Fiona. He stopped before her, looking down at her stretched out, placid form. Even in her filthy, ripped attire, she appeared as sterling as ever. Right now he wasn't so concerned with her comfort, as he actually wanted her to wake up...Yet couldn't bare himself or someone else to do it. No, she had to on her own will. Once she did, he would take her downstairs and clean her up, then grab a bite to eat, then head back to bed. She so needed and deserved a good morning's rest. Right now she lay on her back, clothes disheveled and messed, torn, skin dirtied from anything and everything. The idea that that old man had touched and defiled her in any way made him want to pick her up, rip her clothing off, and wash her himself. Using a sponge, hot water, and a frothing soup. Then brushing her teeth until his taste was fully gone.

Her right hand rested on her chest, obscuring her breasts. He left it be, she had every right to be modest, even if it was unintentionally while sleeping. He'd felt them, though not sensually, not in a loving way, and he'd seen her naked several times already. Yet it wasn't much of anything to him, it wasn't making love. It would be like seeing her for the first time when he finally had his chance. He was sure she hated and loathed his touch, but he was positive it wouldn't last. Riccardo would admit he wasn't the best looking man in the world, he of all people knew that fact well. But if it was another thing he knew well, besides alchemy...It was how to pleasure a woman in bed.

He gently brushed the hair from out of her face, which made her shift a little, and emit a small moan. Right then he wondered what she dreamed about...Probably him, and not in a good way. He sighed lustfully, his body aching from need right then. To satisfy enough of his need, he knew what he had to do. Slowly, with a hint of apprehension, he leaned down, coming closer to her face. His left and right hands touched the edges of the bed on either side, and his right hand then moved towards her lovely ebony skin, just brushing the edges of her curvaceous face.

Then his lips, carefully, brushed hers in the slightest of manners. Then he leaned down just a little, not planting them firmly but instead hovering, and pecked her lips in such a light manner that a even feather wouldn't have reacted. Neither did she, not moving or even seeing any evidence that he was there. He couldn't taste her, or get any real satisfaction from it...But the very thought that he had just done something to her that she never would have let him do while she was awake was titillating and erotic enough to satisfy him. He stood up, looking at her longingly as he softly left the room, his footfalls quiet and subdued. The door was closed carefully as so that the bolt of the doorknob wouldn't be noisy and stir her. He stepped outside, shutting it silently, and walked away.

As he wondered the halls, he made his way to the front door. Along the way he spied broken vases, and even blood spatters along the floor. It was all very curious, and caulked it all up to Debilitas having been in the house and causing a ruckus as always. He found him again in the abandoned dog training court trimming the hedges, but this time with his own anger in check.

"You have my permission to enter the castle. Go into the mansion, I left the entranceway to the water tower passageway open, you know where it is. I want you to retrieve a dead body that is lying there, and bring it to the graveyard. Don't bury it, leave it there."

The giant nodded knowingly, and managed to put two and two together...He had finally done it. Lorenzo was dead.

"When you finish, I want you to stay far, far away. Do not enter the house, or make contact with her. If you see her, leave her be, I don't care if she's trying to escape. Leave her be. Do you understand?"

Begrudgingly this time, he nodded again.

"Excellent." He respond, and as he then turned around, his eyes lingered on the failed creation, giving still a nasty look. Finally he walked right on back the way he came.

He had so much to get done it wasn't even funny. Cleaning up that mess in the suite, washing his outfit, finding the maid, serving Fiona, and somehow get his own rest in there somewhere. Yet he found himself walking back up the girl's temporary room. His head said no, but his tired feet walked on their own accord. Before he knew it, he was ascending the stairs again, and carefully opening the door to gaze upon her restless form.

And she was restless, he watched her toss and turn a little, her body on one side, then the other. She moaned a little in what almost appeared as a sort of misery or despair. He could sense a whimper in her voice, like she was about to cry. Right now he couldn't even tell if she was still asleep. Poor thing. Slowly, he turned to leave through the open door, the light spilling into the room from the corridor behind him as it made a nice rectangle on the floor. Pausing, he looked back at the girl, then took a step forewords.

"...Wait."

Riccardo stopped. Her voice. It was a song to his ears. He froze like a deer in a set of headlights, then slowly backed up into the room. Craning his neck, he saw her sitting up on the bed. Her right hand lay upon her chest, hiding her breasts modestly and her face was a pale white. She looked shaken, her body practically quivering in the bed. Swiftly, her gaze went to the broken window, then back to him, then to the door far, far away at the other side of the room. Or it least, it seemed very far right then...

Her body was drained, both literally and figuratively. She didn't even have the energy to bolt, though she couldn't help but think it. Maybe if he left she could run...but she found herself calling out to him. It just came out of her mouth, it was pulling at the strings of her body and making her speak. When she was laying in the bed, she was starting to awake, and at the sound of him entering didn't take much for her to wake up completely. For some reason she felt the need to talk to him. Perhaps it was the lonely, craven part of her that wanted answers. Resolution.

"Yes, miss Fiona?" He asked in the lowest, sweetest tone he could muster.

Normally it would have made her shudder. Yet, for some reason, she now found himself less afraid of the monster of a man then she was before. She didn't trust him, and there was still an innate fear that pervaded his very form. In the end she knew that he had any and all power over her. Could do anything he wanted to her. Yet he had not taken her by force, despite the obvious penetration he just performed on her. It still made her spine crawl, it still made her sick...She closed her legs harshly at the memory, not wanting to even think about it. Oddly enough, what he had just did also made him seem almost like a medical doctor, merely examining her, touching her in a professional manner instead of a sexual one. Doctors were to be trusted...weren't they?

The way he stood in that hallway, the light enhancing his features and blacking out the others, made him appear almost a totally different person. His eyes were dark, yet they seemed to almost glow in the morning twilight as the light from behind lit their edges. His stance was urgent and attentive, like a nurse watching over his patient. In this light, he appeared more as a man instead of a freak of nature.

"I..." She tried, then her lip trembled, and she fidgeted on the bed.

She had to look away as she said it, but she did say it.

"I'm sorry for...acting the way I did before..."

What?

He could barely believe the words that just came out of her mouth. A slow smile would have spread across his face had he not been so shocked. His eyes widened, and he had to look away from her for a moment. She actually apologized to him? It was almost too good to be true.

"Dearest, there is no need to apologize to me." He finally responded, almost in disbelief.

"...I know this is all rather new to you. You are afraid, you are unsure of your new home. But you need to simply adjust. It takes time, and it is stressful..."

Fiona nodded, words caught in her throat. She didn't want to say a word to the filth, but couldn't stand the fact that he had saved her life, and that she treated him so horribly. By all rights she owed him everything. Even if it was despite this, Fiona was not the kind of person to hold hate or hurt to anybody. No matter how villainous and abhorrent they may be. It could have been Hitler or Satan himself in front of her, but she would still feel bad for hurting their feelings. By acting like a child, she would not right any wrongs, she had to be the civilized one here, the one willing to be the light to their dark, the good to their evil. Maybe, just maybe, he would still let her go. Denial still worked at her, made her believe she could still get out, whether by literal escape or manipulation. Even if she had to turn on the charm a little, she may just be able to prevent him from doing what he sought of her.

"...But you will adjust. That I promise you. Are you alright?"

She wasn't expecting the sudden shift in the conversation, and was caught unaware. Instead, she stumbled for an answer.

"I, well I-" Catching herself, she didn't want to show weakness to what she already interpreted as a predator. "I'm fine. Just..." She trailed, chocking in her own tears.

"I'm sure you'll need to use the restroom and eat. I'll escort you downstairs."

Almost immediately, she felt relieved. He had read her mind. Then just as quickly, repelled. She didn't want him to help her anymore, to even be here. All she wanted was for him to leave and to never see him again. Yet she was in the dire need of a warm, soothing shower, a trip to the bathroom...And a nice meal that didn't involve her stomach feeling as though it were going to implode on itself. Just like the cube, he had her where he wanted her. There was a part of her that was tired of running away from her fears, from her needs and the desire to satisfy them. She could always run away later...But she needed relief, now. Why not take this man's hospitality?

That didn't mean she'd have to like it, though...

He watched as she seemed to fight an inward battle in her mind. Her expressions shifting between hope and despair, she huddled within her self and cowered in the corner of the bed as she tried to look away, arms clasped together in front of her legs as she held them to her chest.

"Come here, Fiona. I'll take you down. I'm not going to hurt you, I give you my word."

"...And?" Her voice came, shaky and laden with sadness and distrust.

"...And what?" He asked back.

"...And you're not going to...?"

Riccardo laughed just a little in his throat, then took his vision off of her for a moment to gaze down the hall, then back to her again.

"Of course not. What sort of host would I be if I did that?"

At first Fiona wanted to laugh, finding it rather hilarious considering what he had been up to the past 24 hours. But she could see a look in his eyes that belayed several different things. One was seriousness, that he wasn't joking. The other was lust. It was pure and feral like a wild animal, like he was watching something for some time and was getting ready to pounce the minute his prey showed a sign of giving in. Like a predator, but an intelligent, cunning one, like a sly hunter.

In response, she shook her head a little. Riccardo saw this and tilted his head at the girl. She wasn't going to be difficult again, was she?

"Please, cooperate with me. I have much to do, and I am very, very tired, thanks to you."

Fiona looked back up at him, swallowing hard, considering what she should do.

"My patience with you is wearing thin. Would you rather I carry you there again?"

"No..." She sniveled, voice breaking.

"Because those are your two options right now, dear. Come to me, or have me take you. Which is it, M' Lady?"

She shivered. There was something about that question that made her almost gasp. Was he implying more then what he had intended? Gritting her teeth, she slowly moved her legs over the bed, and sat them on the floor as she then stood up. The utter cold of the marble floor shook her feet to the bone. Her body wavered, tired, trembling like a tree in the wind as she moved begrudgingly toward her own captor. For the life of her she never saw this happening, never thought she would ever go near the man intentionally for any reason. Yet a part of her had come to accept this, that sometimes to reach the light, one must dabble in the dark, partake of the rotten fruits to live for the whole and pure ones. She would never let him have what he wanted from her, it didn't even come to mind since she was in the cube, she hoped it never would again. Right now she didn't even have time to, why focus on an unwanted parasite of a fantasy plaguing her mind when she was too concerned with the real life version watching her, with hungry eyes?

Her bare feet fell upon the floor carefully, her gaze turned down to avoid his almost desperate stare. Then she looked upon his sandal-wearing feet, and noticed a smear of blood upon the right one. She again remembered the stab, and the fact that he had taken a dagger to the side for her. He almost died for her...

The sound of his raspy, tired breathing filled her ears as she stood before him. A mix of shame and fear stirred within her, as though she shouldn't be here and instead should have just ran out the door. She damned herself for her stupidly and for being dominated by the will of her parent's murderer, just what did she think she was going to do? How was she going to get out of this? He said he was tired, if she ran now...

"Wonderful." His light voice spoke.

His hand reached around to her right shoulder, and he could feel her jump and want to draw away again. She gasped and shivered, her body betraying her and giving a warm, throbbing feeling to her body. Not particularly of arousal, but of pure welcome and relief, as though she was waiting for it to come back again. Heat. Comfort. Something that dwelled deep in the pit of her soul and body that wanted to complete the half that stirred within her with his incomplete from. Like a Ying and Yang, a heaving desire to total the circle that was also the Oroboros that was their family symbol, along with the twin snakes that adorned his chest.

She shook away the thought, but it still beat like a heart in her mind, and she could hear her own in her ears.

"...You're starting to come around."

Fiona shook her head again at the man, but he just smiled back, though she couldn't see it. He looked upon her fondly, tilting his head so he could see her face better. His hand rubbed her back a little, and he made a cooing noise in his throat as he drew her nearer, and she let him, her footsteps drawing a few feet closer. His breath hit her again, and she could see the level of both ease and discomfort he was putting on her, so he ceased. This time, he took a step back, and pushed her gently in front of him towards the doorway.

The girl stumbled a little, but she began to walk forward. He only pushed her slightly as she walked, as she appeared absolutely terrified of walking back through the castle again. Fiona never thought she would see these walls again, she had ended up exactly where she had started, and had assumed she had left it all behind as she escaped into the mansion. She took one step forward, and then one step back, and back into the man's arms. He laughed a little again, and gently prodded her forward until she started to walk easily on her own.

All of her running about had accomplished nothing. Something told her that this would have happened had she not run to the mansion, just in a different manner. Nothing could save her...Nothing...

Her pace quickened a little, one hand holding her gown together much like the sheet from before. He gently pushed her a little towards the steps, then surprised her as he came to her left side, now pressing firmly his right side to her own, right hand on her shoulder. She didn't like it...But she understood why he did it. Now there was no way she could just bolt away, he had her totally in his grasp. Down the steps they went together, then through the well-lit dining room and kitchen, through the hallway, down the steps, and to the bathroom. All the while Riccardo opened all the doors with his free left hand.

They entered into the restroom, the one she actually entered before in search of a hiding spot and exit. Oddly enough, it was kept locked. Riccardo stopped at the door, letting her go but keeping a close eye, and reached into the sides of his pants, to what appeared to be his pockets. Then he stopped, a look of confusion on his face. He tried again with the other one, then realized something.

"...Shit." He swore, he had forgotten his key-card somewhere.

"Missing something?" She asked, half seriously, half in a smart-ass tone used to piss him off.

He looked at her in a cold manner, then smirked, and finally a full fledged smile. Then he laughed just a little in his throat, and shook his head. Somehow, she felt less afraid of him right then, she had made him laugh. Why did that feel good? The last thing in the world she should want to grant the man is pleasure.

"Why, you find something amusing here? Precious?"

Precious?

She ignored it, and looked away, a slight smirk on her face.

"...Because I think I know where you left it. The dining room table, right?"

The look on his face went from amusement to one of a combination of surprise and almost disdain. He looked right at her...Right at her, right in the face despite her down turned gaze, a smirk twitching on his lips.

"Why, there's no telling what you were up to, is there?"

He tried to find a smile on her face, and did, though it was slight. She really was a curious little thing. He remembered eating breakfast that morning and was going to take the plate from the table where he left it...No, no, wait...It broke. It came back to him now, it broke last night after he used it, it snapped off in the reader. It was brittle from overuse, at times having to put it in the reader three or so times a day. He took the half that broke off, and he supposed the other must have been spit out eventually onto the floor. It was gone now. The girl must have took it. He was going to make a new one, but never got around to it with all the new activity about the mansion for their new resident.

"Well, we need to go back upstairs so we can make another one."

Riccardo took her wrist in slightly irritated manner, and went to lead her away. But her feet were planted firmly on the floor, and tugged against him. She slid slightly as he walked, then he stopped and looked at her, thinking she was just being difficult. Then he looked at her face, and she didn't look scared or angry, just determined. Then he watched as she reached back and turned the doorknob- and it opened.

Letting go of her hand, he walked to and past her, and pushed it open in disbelief. Really, none of this was Earth-shattering or that amazing, but what surprised him was that she had grasped the concept of making plate-keys and the ways of this mansion. It was like...Of course! That was it. She was a Belli after all, she had the blood of his kind in her, and therefore had memories and talent, infinite knowledge, of things that his past incarnations also had. She most likely dreamed of them, or had strange moments of deja vu, where she remembered something but didn't know from where. This all probably came to her in ways she didn't either understand, or think much about. His family had lived in the castle for centuries, and knew it in more ways then she would like to admit. This was very much her home. It always was. She wouldn't want to accept it, but this is where she belonged all along.

With a smile, he stepped back, and took her hand gently in his. Well, at least she saved him a trip! He looked at her with a taken look on his face.

"Ahhh, you are a bright child, I see..." With a slight laugh in his throat.

Fiona looked away. He was looking at her like that again...

"So you were here before...?"

She didn't want to tell him why, she was somewhat afraid that she would be in trouble for exploring her own supposed castle at her own will.

"I...I was just curious..."

"You were looking for a way out, weren't you, my dear?"

The girl nodded, her blond hair bouncing a little in response.

"Hmmph..." Came an irritated noise in his throat.

"There is none."

His tone was cold and callous. And she knew why...It was because he made sure of it, and he was right. He was absolutely right. She ran to the cliff in the Chaos Forest, but she didn't find a way out. The only way out was through Riccardo, and he wasn't going to give it to her...Escape was futile. There really was nowhere to run.

Nodding again, she answered tearfully.

"I know..."

He turned from her and walked back towards the door, her hand in his. She had already grown somewhat used to his leathery feel, and didn't fight as he brought her into the bathroom.

"Why do you keep it locked?" She asked, genuinely confused as to why anyone in their right mind would keep a restroom closed.

"That damn Debilitas..." He trailed off, then looked at her. She just nodded, and knew immediately what he meant. Fiona wouldn't want that thing using her bathroom, either.

"Not to worry though, I think I can keep it unlocked for you now. You won't see him in here ever again. I'll make sure of it."

Fiona actually thought that made a good amount of sense. She had a bit of a fear of public restrooms, and would always try and hold it until she got home from any sort of travel. So she had no problem understanding completely. Now she was effectively beginning to feel tired again. She had felt a little better since when she collapsed in his arms in the hallway, and in the examination room, but she could still feel an emptiness that was making her a bit sick. A shower...That sounded rather nice. Not to mention the fact that she needed to now use the toilet to fill another one of her bodily needs.

"There are some towels in the cabinet across from the sink. There is soap, and shampoo in the tub. I suggest you take a shower, as she would bathe Lorenzo in there and I think we can both agree that's not something you want to do in there until it's been scrubbed down fully. I'll get you some clean clothes, I'll knock before I enter."

She felt understandably uncomfortable with all this. Not only because he wanted her to take a shower in this place, but that she would be naked, vulnerable, at his mercy. Then she remembered that, according to him, he had already seen her naked. Twice. If he wanted to do something to her, he would have already. He could have done it right now if he wanted to. In fact, it all felt rather odd to her that this perverted freak wasn't doing what he said he wanted to do. Just what was he waiting for? It was almost killing her in worry, having to be on her toes in constant concern. What he tried in the tower seemed to be nothing now, like an unintentional explosion of feelings that he couldn't keep contained. Not an actual advance. Regardless, she would be careful. But she would take his advice...The siren song of warm water falling upon her too wonderful to resist the call of.

"Okay..."

He looked at her, gave her a slight smile, then turned around and walked out the door. After which, he shut the door and a locking sound was heard on the other side. Great, trapped again.

Right now she could care less, she had to use the toilet, bad. Although not terribly comfortable doing so here, what choice did she have? For a moment she stood before the toilet, looking at it with disdain. Yes, she had done it before, but she was even worse in need of relief then as opposed to now. She groaned, then reached forward, and lifted the lid gingerly. Well, it did look clean and well-taken care of. None different then hers at home. Her head turned towards the door, then down the hallway with the stalls, trying to make sure nobody was going to see her using the commode. Then she spied the toilet paper hanging beside it, and found herself not wanting to touch that either. Well...That's what soap and water was for, wasn’t it?

Fiona touched it in much the same way somebody would touch a diseased or dirty thing, taking it by her thumb and index finger, then stretching it out upon the lid in much the same way she did when she had to use a public toilet. Then ripped it. Finally she sat down and did her business, her eyes at the door making sure he wouldn't come in not announced. Now that would be embarrassing...Not that him shoving a rod up her cooch wasn't...But this somehow would be even worse. Nobody wants to be caught with their pants down.

Finishing up, she used the paper, then being courteous enough to flush the toilet and put the seat back down. Next, she walked to the sink to wash her hands. She'd been in here once before, taking some of the water from the spout and drinking some of it to relieve her thirst. This time she just washed her hands, turning the faucet on and begrudgingly using the soft soap on the sink. It looked old, and gunked up, but it was still soap, it would still cleanse her hands of this place.

The smell of the honey-like soap rose into the air as she scrubbed her hands. She had felt filthy all of a sudden, and the bubbles forming on her skin as she lathered practically up to her elbows helped a great deal. The label on the bottle had long since been worn away, but she knew this wasn’t something they picked up at a general store. This was some expensive shit. And frankly it smelled really, really good. She just hoped that the age of the bottle didn't mean that it had been sitting here too long...That the residents of the castle in the very least washed their hands on a normal basis. Ick.

It had appeared as though the mirror had long since been broken. Like nobody even attempted to replace it. She had a feeling why. That maid appeared to hate the things, when she was caught in one's reflection she screamed like those madragoras, and pierced the mirror with her voice or smashed it with her hand, shattering it into a million pieces to destroy her own image. It was obvious to her that the woman hated herself. Why she never understood, she was beautiful and had a perfect figure.

God she missed home...

She rinsed off her hands and dried them on the towel, and went over to where he said the towels were. On it was a brush filled with what looked like purple hair...Needless to say, she wasn’t going to be using that. There was also, oddly enough, a bottle of cream. Looking closer at the bottle, it appeared to be some expensive brand of moisturizer for the face. Anyone could use that...Yet it appeared most likely it belonged to Riccardo. Curiously, she lifted it. It felt almost empty, yet it looked brand new. No doubt, he used this particular stuff a lot...Maybe every single day.

Setting it down, she then bended at the knees and opened the cabinet. What she saw surprised her. Perhaps Riccardo had forgotten about his stash down here, or even simply didn't even care, but if somebody saw that she had all this stuff, she knew she would be embarrassed. There were towels, they were in a small pile in the left side towards the bottom. But what was very noticeable collection of other creams the man had. The sizes and colors of them were numerous and plentiful, she swore she counted twenty. As she reached in for the towels, some fell onto the floor, and in instinct reached down to pick them back up. Out of curiosity again, she read the one she held in her hands. It was a scar-reducing cream. She found this odd, surely this couldn't "fix" the kind of scars this man had, could they? Maybe they helped...Perhaps without them, he was even worse then what he was.

The other, a pink bottle that was obviously more for woman, was a skin protector. "Strengthening it" as it advertised on the front of the label. Then yet another was more of an antibacterial spray, most likely for the parts of his face that were still open. Lastly, a facial cleanser, too. For a man, she found this odd. He had more stuff then any woman she'd ever known. Yet he still looked horrible. He never came off as somebody who would care what he looked like. But then, she didn't know the man at all. Not that she wanted to, but he was becoming a rather interesting individual in general...If there was one thing she could say positive about him, that was about it. Now at least she knew what that chemical-like smell came from, slathering his face with every sort of lotion known to man...yup, that would do it.

Fiona tried to ignore the tube of some sort of lubricant, too. She could only begin to imagine what he used that for. All she knew was that it was rolled up to the near end, and that once again, it looked brand new. Again, ick.

There were normal things, too. Shaving cream, mouth rinse, toothpaste...But she was done learning about what these people used to maintain themselves. She grabbed a towel and shut the doors. Soaping herself down was out the question, nor was even using shampoo. She was going to rinse off and that was it. Right now she felt ready to faint, each step lumbering and on the verge of her falling face-first onto the marble floor. Besides, the less time she spent in that tub, the better. With a heave, she slung the towel over the rail that held the curtain. She checked to make sure the door was still shut, that he hadn't come in and was going to watch her undress. Then she went behind the partition that was obviously set up for just this purpose, and stripped herself of her filthy clothing.

It was wet with sweat, and the fact that it was stained with blood to begin with didn't help. She shed it easily, ripping the one-piece surgical gown from her form and throwing it like a piece of trash onto the floor in a pile. Now she could see her own naked body, and noticed where the old man had hurt her, and a surge of anger boiled up inside her. Her hands cupped her breasts, and she studied them momentarily. Already they looked and felt better, scabbing over. She didn't want to think about the fact that Riccardo had touched them, even if it was just to help them heal. Then she turned around and looked at her side, the rail-road pattern of stitches making up her right side. It still felt uncomfortable, especially when she moved, but in general it also looked better then it did before, and that she was on the road to recovery.

Thanks to... him. She couldn't stop reminding herself of that fact, and it made her sick.

She moved towards the shower stall, her hand moving to the shower curtain. Somehow, she expected for somebody to be behind it, and in one swift motion pulled it across. Nothing. Nobody was there. She breathed a sigh of relief, then realized she was still in one hell of a situation as she was locked in a bathroom by a man that planned to rape her. And right now she was naked and was about to step into the shower stall. Fiona tried not to dwell on it...Right now she needed a shower. A hot, steamy shower that cleansed herself of any and all touches that horrid filth laid upon her. She took a look behind her, then walked back and looked towards the door, nobody. Her throat clasped shut at the thought of him having control of that door...Having control of her. She swallowed and walked towards the shower again.

Being clean again...That's all that mattered now. Somehow, Fiona couldn't help but think nothing would ever wash herself of this place, even if she got out and away, far away...She could never fully sanitize herself from his touch.

The touch that made her skin crawl...The touch that made her warm inside...The touch that made her loins pulse...The touch of unwanted temptation.