He had the kind of dream that made him feel afraid but at home. He thought the deeply set emotions were just illusions to cure any kind of anxiety as he was roused toward waking. She was a pretty face afflicted with all manner of panic, but it was fading for seeing him. He looked around when a unusual chill clung to his body. Reality barged in, and it was as rude and unwelcoming as hitting a wall. Aliand did sit up, his arm out and hand grasping her wrist, protective and fearful at the same time. The spread out meat on the floor and walls was appalling, it made his bare skin want to retreat into his bones, but he also thought the chaos was intriguing like finding symmetry in wreckage.<br/><br/>He hated that she was beautiful enough to take the edge of his disarray and bring some memories back. And he hated that modesty founds its way into his diaphragm before any real sorrow for the women did. He stood and looked around, pulling Danielle straight as though he was the one waking her. He took the available robe quickly to cover himself up. All his decency tried to remind him to pack his heart full of shadow for the lives that laid minced on the floor, but all he could feel was a strange sense of nostalgia and satisfaction, like this had been delicious work, and the mayhem in crimson and coagulating palette was a badge of his diligence and enjoyment.<br/><br/>"So sad." he said, and the part of his soul that didn't need saving made the sentiment sound real out his clean lips. He held her to him as he turned his face for the door. Tension in her shoulders. Aliand swallowed as he tried to pull back some decency into himself. Maybe he was was shaken by this ordeal. Maybe sympathy arrives slow after chock? Had Leigh been ontop of him? He licked his lips as he lead them toward a path in the mat of people that was more bone than gore. How did he know what Leigh had tasted like, and how she liked to rock her hips when she was loosing her breath?<br/><br/>Alian tried the door's lock when they'd reached it together. It didn't want to open, but something had made the metal soft. "I don't know." he said, distant, turning to her while his hand kept shaking the handle. She smelled good, and it appealed to a corner in him that seemed new. He laughed darkly in his throat at a sudden flash of macabre images. It made him cough when he realized what was happening underneath his robe. His distress lent more energy to his arm, and then the door complained, as steel does, before it opened in defeat. He pulled his hand back like he'd hurt it. Why was the material so soft to him?<br/><br/>"I don't know what God's plan is anymore." he mumbled, pulling her along by her small fingers. "I-I think we're meant to save each other, but..." He looked back at her and painted Leigh's rapture and the final sighs of the other girl's on Danielle's face. He didn't want to like that, he didn't like how he knew how their last climaxes looked and sounded. And felt. He squeezed her hand harder. "...they did something to me."<br/><br/>They'd said Danielle was a virgin. Aliand swallowed when his mouth swelled with saliva at the thought. He shook his head. "I'm sorry this happened to us."