<br/><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f4/Theodorehowell.png)</div><br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Theodore "Teddy" Howell<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>Friday Christmas eve night, December 24th, 1875<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>not too long after midnight<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Gomorra Volunteer Fire Brigade<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Lady Anne Boyle, closed<br/><br/><hr/>Teddy let her hold on to the rosary after the prayer had ended.  He believed in God because – well, after the things he'd seen he just found the alternative to terrifying to consider.<br/><br/>Her argument, her eyes alight with anger brought a small smile to his anger.  He licked his lips, nodding when she argued that prayer had never helped, and when she reached her conclusion, and reached for her slippers, and he held a hand to pause her.  “I never said there wasn't evil in the world.  Evil we don't understand, evil that's... beyond comprehension.  I have dreams, too.  When I was a boy... “  He paused, and stared back at the fire himself.  “When I was a boy, something happened to my town.  Some evil crept into someone.  They became a... a monster.  A skeletal thing with teeth like needles.  It's bite... made anyone it drew blood from just like it.  It was a matter of hours before the entire town... my family was monsters like it.  I locked everyone in a barn and burned them alive.”  His eyes drifted up towards hers.  “Everyone I knew.  I have dreams, too.”<br/><br/>He gave a small smile.  “All I meant to say was... the dreams won't kill you.  The dreams are dreams.  But that doesn't mean nightmares won't start walking the earth.”  His gaze slipped back to her, and when she bent forward to gather her slippers, his eyes slid over an expanse of cleavage her robe bared, a long length of thigh.  “The prayer never makes the dreams go away,” he said, his voice soft, his eyes flashing hungrily for a moment and not falling away.  “Sometimes they just make me feel better.  I wish I had more to offer than that.  I truly do.  I don't have answers.  Just... consolation and commiseration.”  There was no zeal in his eyes, no fire to lecture – only empathy.  He'd offered the prayer not out of concern for her soul, but the hopes it might offer some semblance of comfort the way it did to him; it was a kindness, and nothing more.  “Was never my aim to judge,” he said softly.  “I got no right to judge any man.  Or woman.”<br/><br/>He could see how the dark terrified her though – how the notion of being alone made her tremble, made her visibly shake when the light of the stove-fire still warmed the room.  He saw how she wanted to rise, and flee, and then she lifted her legs, baring smooth legs, hairless, glistening nethers, and the tiny pucker of her rear.  His eyes widened slightly, but his body reacted in kind.  His leather leggings stretched slowly, an almost serpentine motion as his member engorged and slowly distended.  She'd been with enough men to gauge just when an average man's length would have stopped filling those trousers, but his seemed to continue on and on down his leg, until the turgid length of him seemed precariously close to his knee.<br/><br/>He licked his lips.<br/><br/>“You don't have to go, Elisabeth.”  He glanced towards one of the frosted windows.  “It's Christmas.  No one should have to be alone on Christmas.”  That light was still in his eyes, and he reached out for her hand, his powerful one encircling hers.  It would be easy for him to bend her, to hold her in place, to do as he liked to her.<br/><br/>Then with what seemed a flick of his wrist, she was out of the rocking chair, pulled on to his lap.  She could feel the great length of him swelling beneath her, the hardness through the leather, and he whispered softly in her ear.  “Or we could just keep each other warm.”<br/>