The Old Names

May 23, 2018:

Malachi is fighting demons. Donna drops in, literally. Later, they recover at the Themysciran Embassy.

New York, Coney Island, later the Themyscira Embassy

Coney Island, in the warehouse district. Later, the Themysciran Embassy, Donna's room.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Night time in New York City is usually never quite pleasant for whoever decides to patrol it. Malachi was the patroller this time around.

The City was as loud as ever. So loud noises were never quite well heard in a city that never sleeps. Most people were either sleeping, working late, being with their families, or out in one of the cities many nightclubs for any number of debaucheries.

But….in a particular warehouse, Malachi had his sword drawn..the Sword of Midnight Black: Requiem, and a pistol in his other hand. Around him? Many dead demons which seemed to come from a portal. Though as Malachi attempted to close said portal, a rather large…and muscular demon walked its way through. "ohh…Fu-"

Meanwhile, out in the city, flying through two buildings is Malachi! He finally stops when he smashes into the side of a U-haul, landing flat on his face. He looks like he just took a -bad- beating, but his regeneration was already getting to work. The portal was closed…he just had to deal with this guy…

"…uck."

-

Night flying, whether by choice or necessity, had become something to which Donna Troy was now long since accustomed. New York, for what it was worth, was still a new territory for her, and she actually seemed engaged in the work, rather than just doing, well, what it looked like she was doing, flying over and simply observing. The life of a cosmic librarian…was surprisingly not as exciting as the stories would have you believe.

She had, however, a different, or at least, an additional duty tonight. With all of the supernatural activity which had been plaguing the Justice League, and indeed the tri-cities area, she had added searching for things which might be amiss to her list of errands to run. Of course, she had no powers which, in most circumstances, could be considered mystical. But she had the keen senses and the gifts which had been given to her kind, and as she flew over the warehouse district, the sight of flying wreckage as the side of a warehouse building blew out caught her eye.

Not quite that trademarked 'superhero' landing. She had much too much control for that, and she did not even leave a dent in the pavement. She did, however, find herself in the path of the oncoming demon-train such as it was, with only a glance back to see that she was actually now, probably unfortunately, between Malachi and the demon. 'Oh, Alac.' An old name, one that had come unbidden to her lips, and barely above a whisper as she saw the man and surmised the situation. She did not, however, turn to help him. Too well she knew he was more than capable of helping himself. Instead, she stood her ground and moved to engage the demon, trusting that the dhampire would not be far behind her.

-

Malachi struggles to stand up at first, though once he sees Donna as she lands hard on the ground between him and the wrath demon as it approached, though it stopped once it saw Troy. With a roar and a growl, it doesn't look like any average foe. Standing up once he saw her in danger, He -quickly- ran in lieu of Donna, sword in hand as he leapt at the Demon. The Demon manages to just -barely- stop Donna as she engaged the Demon, catching her and trying to throw her back at the warehouse, strong enough to knock her straight through that building if Donna has no counterattack.

Meanwhile, Malachi seems to meet similar luck. His blade slices the Demon across the chest, but the Demon proceeds to grab him and punch him right in the face with its car-sized fist. Bouncing along the ground until eventually, he finds himself in a small hole with a literal hole in his chest….it'll take him a moment to regenerate. "..Damn…" though he lifts a hand, using a rune and a gesture to cast a lightning spell on the demon, the blast stunning it temporarily for Donna to hopefully capitalize on!

-

Being used as a demonic rag doll. Like night flying, also not something to which Donna Troy was unaccustomed. She did not fight to break free. Instead, she used her proximity to the demon to her advantage. She had no visible weapons on her, no sword or shield as seemed to be the norm for most Amazons, but she had her own gifts. Her response to the demon's grab was two fold. A shield of pure force, conjured behind her to stop her from being thrown through the wall, the force bouncing her back towards the demon. Again, that sense of perfect timing, as Malachi's lighting stunned the creature, and Donna summoned a force spear which she sent lancing towards the thing's throat. Never go for a demon's heart. Needing no hands to cast the spear, she drew her lasso instead, casting it to wrap around the demon's legs, to drag it down to the ground, uncaring that it seemed she would end up making a similar impact. "When I said that I was sure we'd be seeing each other again, Alac, this was not what I had in mind!" They hadn't even had a chance to ride the rides or anything.

-

The Demon reels from the lightning, though it takes a spear right to its throat! Though its a wrath demon…it will continue to fight until it either can no longer or until its decapitated. Always aim for the head. Lasso around its feet, the tug causes it to fall to its knees, roaring a death/battle cry. Malachi, on the other hand, finished regenerating and is in the air! Using a wind spell to give him a boost. "Not exactly what I had in mind either, Don!" And he brings the blade down upon the neck of the beast, its head falling off of its shoulders, and with that, the beast falls…and so does Malachi. Right on his face in fact. Spent…he'd been demon killing for hours now.

The demon's body disintegrates…and Malachi looks like he'll eventually be alright, though he's still badly hurt. His body wasn't finished completely healing yet…and he's -exhausted-. "Either way….good to see you," he manages just above a whisper. But he also looked surprisingly pale…he hasn't been feeding.

-

Donna left the demon-killing to Malachi. It was, in most ways, his bailiwick and not hers. As soon as she hit the ground, the demon's hand still gripping her legs, she kicked out, breaking free and managing to roll so that she did not take too much damage from the impact. What pain she might have felt, she ignored, as she often did, righting herself and reclaiming the lasso, as she cleared the distance between herself and Malachi, reaching down to draw him up from the ground. As strong as she was, as exhausted as he was, it was hardly a struggle.

Donna's eyes were sharp, accessing, as she looked at the state of him, from the sludge that had splashed onto his clothes, all that remained of most of the demons he had killed, this last included, to the state of his body which she could see, still broken, if healing. But it was the sight of his face that seemed to harden her eyes the most, the, even for him, unhealthy pallor of his face. She tucked herself in against his side, using her body to support him, as she fried her left hand, lifting her wrist to his mouth, "Feed, now." There was nothing short of an order in her tone.

-

Malachi didn't even resist. He didn't have the strength to. For while not feeding won't kill him, it will certainly weaken him until he's about at this stage…at its worst, he'll be unable to even move. But with Donna helping him up to his feet and molding herself into his side, his bluish-silver eyes glance to her freed wrist as it's offered…and he hesitates for obvious reasons. Firstly, because it's Donna. No matter what face she wears, he still loves her. That….and a willing offering of blood can mean two things. One: It means she wants to be a thrall. Which it's pretty clear she does not. And two…it's an extremely intimate gesture, for blood is taken without regard..and it takes either a great courage or a great care to offer one's own blood to a vampire. He looks indecisive. "Don.."

-

Donna's expression was not gentle, it was determined, focused, as it often was, in times of stress. Though he had enough experience with a face very like hers that he could have easily read the concern there. Donna, for her part, did not seem inclined to release him, nor to lower her wrist. Thralldom? No, that was certainly not in her, and would have required some of his own blood, like, as not, besides. But courage. Courage she had in spades. Likely, in the many worlds where she had met he death, if she had had such a thing as a tombstone, it would have read, 'She had courage'.

"Alac, you are practically dead on your feet. You look a shambles, and you don't have enough strength to heal soon or well." Again, that flash of concern, that was in her eyes, though her voice was flinty, "Must I cut my own flesh?" That would have been painful for her, and like waving a red flag in front of a bull for him.

-

Malachi's face watches Donna's expression as she appears to be demanding. Though when she speaks about cutting her own flesh, she knows the sight of human blood drives him insane, even when he's not thirsty. With an exasperated look on his face, he simply touches her cheek with his hand, and he sighs, opening his mouth, his vampiric fangs appear, and he bites right into her wrist. He tried almost desperately not to hurt her.

But she'll feel herself being drained as Malachi is rejuvenated. Though he doesn't take too much, only what's needed to allow him to stand on his own to feet and allow the blood to bring a normal skin tone back to his features. Eventually, he takes his teeth out of Donna's flesh..though it might be -his- turn to carry -her-.

-

"I know." She offered no other answer, as his fingers touched her cheek, before he took her wrist and she felt the momentary lance of pain, as brief as he could make it, as his fangs sank into her flesh. This was not the first time, though, in a way it was, for this Donna, and so she knew he'd need not to take much. She was, after all, no normal human, and there was potency in her blood. Even the effect of his bite, which would have entirely enthralled a mortal, only created a pleasant, soporific effect in the immortal Amazon. But that effect, coupled with the loss of blood, something that, even with her natural resilience, would take time to heal and replenish, meant that at least for a few minutes, it was she who was leaning against he, eyes watching the closing of the wounds on her wrists, which left in their wake, only two beads of blood. When she spoke again, her voice was whisper soft, as though even the energy required to speak was being siphoned away to heal herself, "You still look a shambles." Beat, "And you smell like the fifth circle of hell." Don't ask her how she knows that, "My rooms at the Embassy are not far." Well, compared to her apartment in Metropolis.

-

After the blood sucking, Malachi catches her when she starts to lean against him. It's like an exchange of information when he sucks blood. It's a connection. one that would allow a very brief information exchange. Though he nods lightly to Donna as she tells him that he smells crappy and he looks like crap. "Thanks, Don…" he smiles to her as he helps her move, carrying her to the Embassy. "..thanks, by the way…for the help and the blood." he rests his head on hers for a moment before he carriers her fully in a cradle. "Come on…let's take you home."

-

"I know you like honesty." Whatever Malachi might have remembered of the woman he had known in years past, of the particular landscape of her mind, the glimpse into Donna's mind now, would have reduced a lesser being to gibbering. But for Malachi, for the few brief moments the bond allowed him into her mind, while his magic and her own exhaustion had lowered her mental defenses, he would have seen an endless maelstrom of memories, and known that what she had told him was no lie. A thousand, thousand women lived in the mind of this one woman. All of their lives, all of their deaths, all of their pain. It was almost impossible to tell which were old memories and which were new. "You shouldn't starve yourself." Donna made no protest, as he gathered her up, and they made their way, that way, towards the Embassy. So late in the night, it was a relatively easy task to make their way up to her rooms, and she managed to come to her feet once they were within her room, "Go on…I'll find you something to wear when you come out."

-

Malachi -loves- honesty. She'd know that without even knowing him. Though as he carries her and he sees just how -much- there is? It would make any lesser creature claw at the walls in immediate insanity. But Donna was stronger than even she herself knows. Though once he sets foot in her room, he nods to her, setting her down on her feet but keeping an arm around her shoulders. He knew she was hazy…giddy, even. "I know I shouldn't…guess I've been distracted lately." Likely her. Either way, when she tells him to likely go get changed, he does so. Taking off his jacket and putting it on Donna. "Rest for a moment, alright? I'm going to gingerly do as you ask. But take a moment, okay?" and with that, he moves to take off his shirt as he enters a separate room, subtly closing the door behind him.

-

She was recovering, but not so quickly that she managed to escape his jacket. Well, on the plus-side, of all of the clothes he was wearing, it seemed to have the least amount of used-to-be demon on it, and she kept it around herself as she let the door close behind them, making her way over towards a seat which looked out into the now, relatively, still night, "Sorry about the soap." Not that it was overly feminine, but probably moreso than he'd be used to. "But there's plenty of hot water."

She did indeed take a moment, and once the door had closed behind Malachi, she rose to set aside his jacket, to call and inquire about laundry, to rifle through her closet for something…anything which might actually fit, well, a man. There was really nothing, and so, she settled on something that, once he put it on, would be both toga-tastic, and mildly hilarious. But clean.

-

Either way, Malachi was taking a shower, and he took a deep breath. His sensitive nose smelled the soap before he even put it on. But ya know, when you live for over a thousand years? You kinda learn to stop caring about certain things. Soap is one of those things. After very -thoroughly- cleaning himself, He exits the shower and wraps a towel around himself.

Stepping back through the door, he was extremely muscular, just as she would remember him…though depending on what happened when they were a mated pair, she may or may not freak out that he just kinda walked out. What? There wasn't exactly any pre-set clothing waiting for him in the bathroom. Though clearly she didn't seem to listen when he asked her to rest. Which he happens to smile a little at.

-

Well, at least she hadn't been attempting to run a marathon on some secret treadmill she pulled out of the closet. No, she'd set out the lengths of cloth he could use to wrap around himself. Once very Greek, though in these modern times, it would have looked more Pacific Islander…it was still very much a fashion for men there to wear the long skirts which, for example,in Samoa, they called 'ie lavalava. "I'll switch with you, and I have laundry already arranged and it won't take long, once I send everything down." She indicated the lengths of cloth, finally turning to catch sight of him as he stepped into the room proper, seeming not at all bothered by the sight of him, though her critical eye marked all of the scars, old and new, that she could see. "And I've requested a meal be brought up."

-

With Malachi seeing Donna, he smiles to her as she gives him the Greek robes…he had worn Greek Robes before, most definitely. Especially once upon a time on a date with Donna herself in her previous life. Though as she tells him that she's now gonna shower, he smiles softly to her. "Alright. Thank you." It'll be their first meal together in god knows how long. Either way, once she heads into another room, he strips until he's nude..then changes into the Greek robes. Geez…it was like he was at least 700 years younger. It was scary. Either way, now Malachi waits for Donna to emerge.

-

Donna, for her part, had the presence of mind to gather up the change of clothes she had selected while Malachi was in the shower, and she took those with her into the bathroom, poking her head out a few minutes later, and letting fall a pile of his clothes and her own clothes, "Could you please send these down with the young woman who is bringing up our meal? And your jacket. Everything will be taken care of." Might as well kill two birds with one stone.

And then she too closed the door, and, likely, as she showered, found the soap much more to her liking, than it had likely been to his. She took her time, the heat and the comfort of the ritual moving a long way along the road to being fully recovered from the battle and its aftermath. When she finally emerged, the cloud of steam that billowed out attesting to how much hotter she took the water than would be strictly sane, she wore a light, sleeveless camisole and a pair of matching loose trousers. "I'm sorry I took so long."

-

Malachi looks to Donna after he had fully dressed, only for her to ask him for a small favor! "Sure, I can do that." a small smile is offered to her as he takes the pile of clothes after the door to the shower and bathroom closes. Once the young woman comes up with their meal, he smiles to her. "Thank you so much." and he accepts the tray, setting it on the side while he gives her the clothing. "Here, can I ask you to take care of this? Thank you. I'm in your debt." and he closes the door lightly after the young lady leaves.

Returning to the table with their meal, he sits down on the couch with a soft smile as he waits for Donna to exit the shower. Once she actually does? He greets her with a warmth. "I don't mind. You look beautiful." He compliments her.

While Malachi himself looks like an absolute nerd.

-

Donna, as she steps out, leaving the door open to let the steam dissipate, makes her way over towards Malachi, "You look as comfortable in that now, as you did then." Which, in a word, isn't very, "She always thought it suited you, though." Donna, making her way over to the couch, ignored the meal for the time being, stepping up, close enough that she can study the man now seated before her. Keep eyes marked very scar, every imperfection, every mark of every battle that he had fought. No, not every scar or every battle, he was too old and too powerful for that, but at least those that had been hard enough won to leave a mark on his immortal flesh, "You have lived a life, Alac." But then, so had she. Hers scars, though, were all on the inside.

Malachi looks to Donna as she speaks to him. "Heh…you remember more and more. At some point I'm going to think you two are the same person." he winks very lightly at her. He starts taking small bites of the meal that was prepared for the both of them. He had many scars….he's lived one hell of a life. He's been in wars, He's fought demons..his whole life has been a battle. Though as she speaks with him about the life he's lived, he pauses…setting a piece of food back down and he takes a breath. "…too long." he shakes his head. But he looks at her. "…it's been far too many years since you called me Alac." he just noticed that she was calling him that. Perhaps he was so used to it thanks to the past..but, either way, he turns his head to smile softly to her. "..We've both lived a life." His eyes remain locked with her own.

-

"It has, never, sadly, been about remembering. I can remember everything. It's about trying to pick a single memory out of a multitude. That is where the difficulty lies. In knowing what is me and what was someone else that…lives here now." It likely sound entirely mental, and, perhaps, given what Malachi had seen of her mind, in a way, it was. But something kept her grounded, focused, able to keep some kind of hold on herself, "Do you wish for the end of your life, then? To finally be allowed to lay down your burden? So do I, sometimes. Many times. Every time I feel one of them become me, or I become them. But I know that is not to be." Donna settles onto the couch, turning so that she could both share in the meal set on the table he had pulled over, and still converse with him, "She thought it was very clever. Aname only to be used between you two."

-

Malachi nods. "When I drank your blood…I caught a glimpse of what you deal with on a daily basis….I never truly knew." Of course, he had bits and pieces…but that was his largest vision of what she suffers through to date. With that in mind, he has no idea what she has to keep her grounded and focused. Maybe one day he will find out? "Sometimes." is all he says about that. "To finally just…-rest-." he's tired. He's lived for far too long for a soul to bear. But he will keep living, for those he swore to protect. Even those he failed to. "It was clever….I remember the first time she called me that. Alac. It was maybe…a few months after we really started dating." He shrugs lightly. "The only thing creative I could ever call you was Don." he teases her softly, giving her a playful nudge with his shoulder to see if he can bring a smile out of her.

-
Donna's expression is one of genuine contrition, when she hears the revelation, "I'm sorry that you had to see that. But yes. When I'm awake, and when I sleep. I'm not sure I've had a peaceful night's sleep in…" she shakes her head, turning some of her attention to collecting a selection of fruits, bread, and cheese, "Too many years. It doesn't matter." She eats with a careful precision, as though food was more fuel than something to be enjoyed, "I think that you should have the chance to rest, if that is what you really wish for. No one should have to carry their burden forever." The nudge does bring a smile, and her honest reply, "Well, to be fair, Donna is not a terribly clever name."

-

Malachi looked Donna in the eyes. "I'm not." Shocker? Perhaps. Though he's always been fairly unshakable in terms of conviction and belief when he's put his mind to something. "I feel like it helped me understand you better…truthfully. It helped me see the -real- you..and how many of you there've been, and how many of you there may even be before you're free." Oh yes, he holds on to that hope. But what he does next? He reaches over as if to steal her hand, connect his digits with hers and the whole nine. "Everyone should have a chance to rest. and Donna is a beautiful name. I would know. I've heard very many." he smiles to her then, being comforting. "You should smile more often Donna. The sun always rises. You're features light up and brighten when you do…it's truly a sight to see."

-

"I was not trying to hurt you, you know. When I told you what I did. I hope you can see that now. Remembering, feeling…it's not the same, you know, its not me. I can't go back. I have to keep going forward. I want things that are mine, that are my life, my memory. Not just something that used to belong to someone else." She shakes her head, "You have to know that I'll never be free, not until truly do die, finally die." She makes no protest, as Malachi slips his hand into hers, her own seeming tiny in comparison, "Perhaps everyone should. But neither of us have, or will. What should be is rarely what is." Not a full smile, but at least halfway there, "Thank you for your kindness, Alac. Are you fully healed? Is there anything else that you need?"

-

Malachi listens carefully to her words as she speaks about never wishing to hurt him…never wishing to cast him aside. He knows that. He's known that for some time but…it was good to hear it from her. He squeezes her hand as he looks her in the eyes. "Every spell has a weakness, Donna…I don't care if I end up spending eternity trying to figure it out as some hopeless mission. I gave her my word then…now I'll give -you- my word." separating the woman he loved from Donna. He's making the promise to her. He lifts a hand to caress her cheek. A comfort in his eyes. "I won't give up." He looks like he might even try to kiss her! Leaning in but pausing just before he commits the actual act. "I promise you." he whispers. Let no man say that Malachi is not loyal.

-

"Perhaps every spell does. But you have more important things to focus on now, work that needs to be done. So do I. I want to use the years I have trying to do the task that I've been given, not wasting it searching for something that will never be. And I want you to live your life as well. In the present, looking forward, not walking always looking behind." As Malachi approached, he could feel her tense, her expression conflicted, the woman now fighting with the ghost of the past. There was a painful vitality in how real those ghosts felt. She did not approach, but instead turned her head away. A rejection, but one that was made as gentle as she could. A promise you have no need to make."

-

Malachi kept his head near hers for but the briefest of moments…for he knew he might never be this close to her ever again. He gives her hand a faint squeeze before he releases it, leaning instead to kiss her temple, muttering an incantation afterwards. It was one where if she needed him…he'd know. Alas, he stands up and he looks at her. "I've lived too long. I've done all I've wished to. I've laughed, I've loved. I've killed, I've hated. But know that I will never forsake the promise I made." he has a bad habit of never letting go of the promises he makes. She would know the necklace he gave to her (wherever she hid it) was a symbol to that. Nevertheless, he stands up and he walks towards the window. "..until our paths cross again." and He simply starts to seemingly dissipate into small bat-like creatures as they all flew out the window…until he was there no more.

-

In that moment before his hand released her, her own grip tightened, almost painfully so, but as he let go, so did she, her eyes falling momentarily closed at the feel of his kiss, painfully familiar, on her temple. She did not even protest the spell, though she should have. Instead she sat back, forcing her shoulders straight, "I have no doubt that you will find the things that you still seek, Alac." And then, before she could call him back, knowing that she could not do that, she watched him spirit himself away. She stood there for what seemed like an age. When she finally retreated to her bed, it was only to curl into herself, shoulders hunched, as she had not allowed herself when he was here, allowing her tears to carry her into her nightmares. There was no peace for Donna Troy. Not even in dreams.

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