Donovan hunkered low as he stepped away from Methuseld. If he walked hunched over -just right-, he was no bigger or taller than the average native man, and with dark hair and  features, he blended in rather well - with his cloak wrapped about him to obstruct easy view of his weapons and armor. He blinked, still feeling as though someone had just kicked him in the head. He knew Dean was either dead... or pretty close to it, could sense it, the departure providing a feeling like having a body-sized scab ripped free from every inch of his skin before it was time to heal all on its own. If something out there could kill Dean...<br/><br/>A -weaker- Dean, Donovan reminded himself as he merged into the mass of people moving this way and that on a busy morning. Dean's portrayal of a thirteen year old boy told Donovan that he had a lost a goodly amount of his power and was slowly regenerating. How had he lost so much of his darkness? Aza was the answer, and Donovan wasn't sure he really wanted to know how she had done it. It either involved sex... or lots of killing, and since there hadn't been anyone else on their ship that he was aware of, Donovan wagered that it was the later.<br/><br/>Donovan shivered, remembering Aza's not-so-gentle come-on to him. What would have happened to -him- had Donovan succumbed? Part of him almost felt guilty, as if doing so would have somehow protected Dean from becoming her... 'victim'? It had been tempting, he reminded himself... -very- tempting. Sexual activity was one way to more quickly 'recharge' glory... but it had felt like such bad timing...<br/><br/>Donovan sighed, and then blinked, and then froze in place for a second, being jostled by others trying to pass by him. Slowly he turned in place, until he faced a certain direction. It was... odd... feeling Dean in -that- direction, when he knew that he shouldn't be sensing Dean at all. Only, it wasn't -Dean-, truly, but rather a 'ghost' of an image of him... Whatever the fuck it was, though, was enough to have Donovan moving that direction. He had heard Methuseld call out something about the stables as he left the alleyway, and he wanted to call back, 'Good idea'!, but that might have just attracted attention. Donovan would simply have faith that after he grabbed Aza, by the time she and he got to the stables Methuseld would have four horses ready to go. Dean would catch up with them... in time.<br/><br/>The knight followed his senses and began walking. Smaller, lighter men were pushed unceremoniously out of the way, though few complained. This busy sort of mass of humanity seemed like the normal thing for this type of day, and though it was a hindrance, it had been a boon so far to the travelers as well. The farther he walked, the stronger the 'feeling' got, and the draw of something 'Dean-like' pulled him through a large archway, at which time he stopped, feeling the ground grow slick beneath his feet. Looking down, he saw the dark, crimson-black signs of carnage.<br/><br/>Donovan couldn't help but smirk.<br/><br/>He heard Aza's voice calling out, now, confirming that he was in the right place. When he reached the courtyard, though, he looked around to see that little remained of the enemy, and the place was seemingly quiet. His eyes were drawn quickly to where Aza stood, blood splattered on her cloak but otherwise apparently unharmed. That -sense-, too, led him directly to her like a beacon, and for a moment, a brief flicker of time - he wondered if this was Dean just fucking with him. But as he approached, he realized it really was her.<br/><br/>"Come on!" he half-whispered, half-shouted. "Methuseld is getting horses ready. Dean... will join us later," he assured her. Even as he took her hand, there was something so Dean-like about her, but he didn't have time to analyze it. They were being hunted, after all. He would have simply scooped her up and carried her, but THAT would have looked odd out on the streets and would have drawn attention that they didn't need. Donovan glanced around and saw another exit - different than the one he had come in. Pulling on her hand, holding it tightly, he led the way without further explanation. At worst, he figured he'd act as a shield for her if they were attacked. Surely she'd be ok with that, he figured.<br/><br/>Out into the crowd they moved, and Donovan's hand tightened on Aza's to make sure the link would not be broken. He wasn't hurting her, of course, but his grip was firm. Not long after they set into the crowd, almost like tossing themselves onto the waves of an ocean, they heard a scream behind them back from whence they had come. Aza's 'artful display' of human remains had been discovered apparently, and not a moment too soon. That might even help them, he figured, drawing the attention of any nearby thugs, perhaps, and he was right.<br/><br/>Donovan guided them through the crowd, occasionally raising his head up to get a bearing on their location, setting a 'course' through the crowd in a straight line for where the stables should be. Relief at seeing the stables nearby was suddenly blotted out by the appearance of a thug with a scowl on his face, pushing through a few members of the crowd with a large knife leveled toward Donovan. The man's growl could not really be heard above the din of the crowd, but those nearby could see the glint of steel and struggled to get out of the way. Donovan's free hand shot down at the last second, grabbed the man's wrist in a crushing grip, and instead of pushing him away, Donovan simply pulled hard, drawing the man toward Donovan at an increased speed... until he was suddenly stopped by the front of Donovan's forehead smashing into the man's face.<br/><br/>No one but Donovan and maybe Aza could hear the muffled sound of the man's nose shattering, or the man's gurgled scream of pain and surprise as he crumpled to the ground. Donovan released the man's hand and continued on, stepping over him and making sure not to trip as he proceeded onward. Several random passersby panicked, and soon a small circle of space opened up around the fallen man bleeding profusely from his face. But by then, Donovan and Aza were already far away.<br/><br/>Donovan let out a sigh of relief as he saw the stables just ahead, hoping in his mind over and over again that Methuseld had made it there. "Almost there!" Donovan looked back at Aza, his grip still firmly on her hand. If they could just get to some horses and get the hell out of town....<br/>