<ul><span style="font-family: New Times Roman;">They say that the Church sitting habits are inherited from the parents. Some people just like to sit in the front to stay engaged and awake and well, slackers hit the back rows. It was funny how mortals paid so much attention to such useless, little details, as if it really did matter to their creator where you sat. <br/><br/>The raven haired one glanced around the empty building of the St. Louis Cathedral, glazed azures shifting up and down, and then moving right and left as they marveled at the beauty of the stained glass windows he was surrounded with.  He's been sitting in one of the middle seats for couple hours, desperately seeking some form of release, and an escape of some sort, but he was too distracted to close his eyes in bliss.<br/><br/>Lifting his head, he leaned his chin on his hand and sighed, thinking about the anonymous letter he received a few days ago. He knew it was from <span style="font-style: italic">her</span>. The letter was not scented, yet he could inhale in her scent... A scent of determination. The message was short and it gave him directions to the cemetery where the rendez-vous was supposed to take place.<br/> <br/>A cemetery?<br/><br/><br/>Solas shifted uncomfortably as he ran emerald  rosary beads between his strong fingers. It was about time to depart the Holy place... The time has come to seek his tormentor... And he craved it immensely.<br/><br/>______________<br/><br/><br/>Instead of making his way inside the cemetery, Solas decided to wait by the gates. His long hair was pulled back and fastened with an elastic band. As for his outfit, he was dressed in <a class="postlink" href="http://img221.imageshack.us/img221/9702/grgr.jpg">Click for Outfit</a> and sporting an Acqua di Gio by Giorgio Armani.<br/><br/>As he eagerly awaited the female's arrival, his keen skills of observation caught site of an old man walking towards the exit of the cemetery; a grim and worried look on his face. The mortal's gray hair and wrinkled face spoke volumes about a departed soul. A wife? A daughter? As the old visitor neared the Fallen with uncertain, unhurried steps - family following behind - the unlucky one stumbled and fell to his weak knees, and with an incredibly fast reaction time, the raven haired one captured the frail form of the old man before it could hit the cracked concrete. <span style="font-style: italic">''Are you okay? Mister...''</span> The old man winced and nodded his head; looked over at one of his anxious family members, then turned his head toward the tainted one, tears prickling his gray eyes. <span style="font-style: italic">''Take a deep breath Ma'am, heâ€™ll be okay''</span> Solas spoke in a reassuring, sultry voice as he nodded his head thoughtfully in response to a middle-aged womanâ€™s worried questioning expression; her child whimpering and crying, wondering what in the world just happened to her gramps.<br/><br/>As the male rose to his feet and regained his composure, a hand came to rest upon the head of the child, lulling her into a peaceful state. The young one acquiesced and smiled, and then he departed the area, leaving calm and reassurance in his wake.<br/><br/>Then, he sensed <span style="font-style: italic">her</span> approaching...</span><br/></ul>