Laying in Twillon's arms, Weebit watches Tork as he cocks his head. The dragon had been staring out their window for the last hour, as if deep in thought. Finally, he shakes himself and settles onto the back of his favorite chair. Tork seems to be asleep within moments.

Twillon's long fingers stroke her wild hair and he kisses her temple. "Do you want to change? You seem to sleep better in your natural size."

She smiles, snugging herself close. "You just like when I change back."

His laughter is soft. "Of course. Seriously though, you DO sleep better."

"Maybe later. Right now I just want to feel you in me again."

Twillon smiles and rolls slightly. His fingers begin to stroke and tease until she is moaning in pleasure. He urges her to mount him, letting Weebit take her time. There is a thud above them and he laughs.

"Think Ob fell out of bed?"

Weebit giggles and her muscle walls contract involuntarily, making him groan. She rocks forward and tightens the muscles again.

"I won't last Honey-girl." He grits his teeth, fighting for control.

"Then don't." She slams down, taking him deep. Twillon shudders, sliding his fingers between them to tweak her clit. His fingers stroke, making her writhe. It is nearly his undoing. Flipping her onto her back, Twillon rises above her and thrusts deep. He quickens his pace, feeling his need tightening into that familiar knot. She screams, clamping around him, and Twillon lets himself go. He slams deep, grinding as he continues to play with her clit.

Weebit writhes, pushing at his hand. "Enough! It is too much!"

Twill smiles down at her, his long blonde hair framing her body.

"It is yours."

He kisses her gently, moving to ease out of her.Weebit clamps her legs around his hips.

"I didn't say to move. Just stop."

He kisses her again, bracing himself to not crush her. He rolls, letting her find a more comfortable position, trying  to keep them entwined. Sleep finds them as the night begins to lighten.

The song ends and Ramji escorts Laila back to the table. He kisses her hand and holds her chair for her to sit. Twillon helps Weebit sit across the table from Laila and the demifae stares at her with interest. The blonde maned head cocks, black almond eyes blink slowly, focused on the newcomer amongst them.

The voice is piping, a sweet musical trill. "What are you?"

Conversation stills at the question. Ramji's hands tighten on the back of Laila's chair. He looks at Twillon and Torrent, seeking some hint of Fae protocol. Keon raises a brow. and answers before Laila can gather her thoughts.

"What she is, My Dear Mori, is a guest."

The demifae frowns, her pretty, exotic face twisting as she thinks. Reaching across the table, Weebit runs a finger along the girl's hand. Laila quickly withdraws her hand, slipping them into her lap beneath the table.

"You are innocent of evil intent, yet surrounded by it. You are pure. You are human. You need strong friends to help you be yourself. You have found them." She smiles, "The lady has brought you home." The demifae taps her nose with a slim finger. "You are a fit companion for the Rider."

She raises her eyes to Ramji's pale face. "What is wrong Rider? Your tattoos are more defined tonight. Are you ill?"

Dmitri bursts out laughing as Ramji slips into his own seat. Keon smiles. Twillon takes Weebit's hand in his and inclines his head to Laila. "Apologies. The Fae tend to speak what they see unless they are keeping secrets. Then we are as closed mouthed as the dead."

Laughter erupts and he looks at the Gargoyles. "Ah. I forgot. But then our sweet Alise is no longer among the Spirit Realm."

Stoney snorts. "She wasn't all that quiet back then either."

Ob grins. "Did you ever get the hammock fixed?"

His head rocks forward as Ike passes. Ob chokes on his drink and Stoney laughs. Alise rolls her eyes, a faint pink blushing her cheeks.

"Mon Deiu. Will I never live that down?" She shakes her head and looks up at her husband. "You are right. He is incorrigible. *Et vous pensez qu'il s'agit d'Ob Tomas? Seigneur nous aide."

Ike grins at Raina. "No... Tomas wants to grow up to be like Nick."

Ramji looks at Nick, then back at Ike. "A vampyre?"

The Gargoyle family laughs. Stoney's face sobers, and he informs Ramji, very seriously,

"No. He wants to be Batman."


*And you think Tomas is like Ob? Lord help us.

"Are you sure about this?"

She looks over her shoulder, staring up through a tangled mass of straw colored hair. The silken mass moves in the slight breeze from the air conditioning. Weebit turns to look more fully at him, the dress in her hands slipping below her waist. Twillon fights a reaction to the sight of her tiny, firmly muscled, torso. She smiles, lowering her eyes and raising the dress to cover her nude form.

Her wings flex and she closes her eyes against the pull of the stitches, the jab of pain in her patchwork grafts. After a few moments Weebit sighs and bites her lips. She opens her almond shaped eyes, staring at Twillon.

"No. I am not sure. But the Demifae healer said that shift to larger form could help them heal faster. I am tired of this. Tired of hurting, tired of staying small when I want so much to..." Her words break off as she realizes Twillon is looking at her with an odd expression on his face. "Twillon! What?"

"Ummm, maybe you should put the dress on before you change?"

She stares at him for a few moments before it dawns on her that the dress now pools at her feet, having slid from her hands in her agitation. Weebit steps into the dress, glaring at him as she pulls it up and ties the halter behind her neck. Once she is dressed, Twillon smiles and turns away to pull his own clothes from the dresser. Her gaze travels over his bare back, noting the scars that crisscross his fair skin. Every movement ripples his muscles as he closes the drawers. He turns catching her hot gaze and bows to her.

"No trying until I am done in the shower. Promise me."

She frowns at him.

"Honey Girl... Wait until I am done in the shower."

She sighs and settles on the edge of the table. Twillon nods once and disappears through the door. The sound of rushing water fills the room and Weebit, closes her eyes. A small smile curls her lips as she imagines him running the soap over his body, rubbing it into a lather over his hard muscled arms, the firm muscles of his stomach and lower back.

Weebit bites her lip, a sigh slipping from her as she sees him in her mind's eye, cupping himself, lifting it slightly to lather his balls. She rolls her hips, shifting position, dreaming of him wrapping a calloused hand around his soapy length and sliding back and forth, his hips moving slowly as he licks his lips.
Her legs part and she groans as she imagines his eyes closed, breath coming in shallow pants as his need builds. Her hands slide the silken fabric along her thighs, and she strains to hear him groan. Was it imagined? Or was he really in there, finding the pleasure she wanted to give him, with his own hand?
She shudders as he arches his back, eyes closed, pale yellow hair hanging wetly down his back. He cums, spattering the shower wall with each pulse. Her breaths echo his and she moans softly.

The sound of water shutting off rouses her and she flits to the rug. Taking a deep breath, Weebit gathers her magic and forces it slowly through her being. A slow glimmering sheen seems to envelope her. Gold and silver mist swirls around her, whipping her dress and hair. She screams as the magic tears through her, bursting her essence up and out.

The bathroom door slams open and Twillon barely halts before he slams into her magic encased form. Weebit shudders, her body suddenly slipping to the floor as the magic fades. She moans softly and Twillon scoops her up in his arms laying her limp form on the bed. He kneels next to her, towel slipping to the floor unnoticed as he begins to examine her. Weebit covers her eyes and he looks down. He shifts, hiding the erection caused by the molding of damp silk to her slim body.

"Are you alright, Honey Girl?" She nods, and hides her face in a pillow as he gently strokes her arm. "What? Give me a minute and I'll put pants on."

When she moves to shift the sticky fabric from her thighs, Twillon moves to help.

Weebit bites her lip. "Does it hurt?" She shakes her head. "What is it, Honey Girl?" She looks up at him, eyes half hidden in the tangled silk of her hair.

"I...I..." she mutters and Twillon leans closer. "I just... came."

The hem of the dress flutters around Weebit's feet as she paces the top of the table. Tork has taken himself to the headboard of the bed, far enough away as to not be in her line of fire if she throws something. She spins on her heel, skirt flaring and fans her wings to catch her balance. The muscles in her back twitch and pain crosses her face at the movements. Her chest heaves with each pant, drawing the halter of her dress tight over her small breasts. Twillon frowns, knowing she will not accept any comfort at this time. Nyr looks at Twillon, concern in his eyes.

"Weebit, I'm sorry. Tychus left for his own lands years ago. Inari may know where he is, but I don't. As for the healers, let them have time to figure this out." Nyr stops himself from touching a wing. "What did they do in there?"

She raises her face, anger and pain warring in the set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes. "They were no better than the so called Doctor that experimented on my Troop. They scraped the scars, stuck pins the veins of my wings, took samples of my blood. One suggested taking my wings, cutting them OFF!"

Her voice breaks and she sinks to the table top, head on her arms. Her sobs are silent, betrayed by the shake of her body. As Nyr reaches out, Twillon stops his hand. He nods towards Tork, who has risen into a crouch. The dragon's eyes are fixed on Nyr's hand.

"He does not trust you, old friend. He does not know you. He is true to Weebit and will take on any who seek to harm her. That is why we did not bring him to the Healers with us. There would have been... The Queen would not have been happy."

Nyr nods, slowly sitting back. Twillon rests his chin on his arm as he leans on the table. "Weebit... Honey Girl..." She raises her head and her strokes the tumble of her pale hair with a finger tip. "The Demifae doctor had a temper, didn't he? He didn't like when the other doctor suggested that." She nods and wipes her face on a fold of her skirt. "They won't cut your wings off. We will find another way."

Weebit wraps her arms around his finger and hugs. Twillon gently cups his palm around Weebit, picking her up.He settles back in his chair as Weebit lays down on his chest, bare feet slipped through the lacings of his shirt.

"My siúlóir aisling..."

Nyr cocks his head, a frown between his eyes. Twill watches thoughts flick through his friends eyes. After a moment Nyr shakes his head.

"That is Irish Faeling. I haven't heard that since Queen Malva took her people to watch the borders of the Unformed Plain."

Weebit nods against Twillon's chest."... means Dream Walker."

Nyr raises a brow. "They disappeared decades ago. No sign of them was ever found, even by other demifae. Rah'sha, where did you find her?"

Weebit shifts, settling herself to sit on the lower laces of Twill's vest. "I am RIGHT here."

Nyr bows his head. "I apologize My Lady."

She crosses her arms across her chest, lips pressed tight in anger.

"The Unformed plane, Nyr. They were being used for experiments. Weebit is the last of her troop. All the others... he kept what was left of them in specimen jars. We gave them to a pyre at Weebit's request."

"He took my mother's wings. Cut them off and pasted them in a book." her eyes flash and she looks up at Twillon. "No one is taking MY wings. even if they will never be healed!"

"No, My Lady. I will not allow that. My oath as Taibreamh Sca'th."

Tork rests his head on the back of the chair. He noses the saddle and rumbles at Weebit. The demifae shakes her head and goes back to looking through the fabrics. Holding up a pearl grey strip of silk, Weebit drapes it around her body, tossing the loose end over her shoulder like a sari. She winces as the end brushes her wings.

Twillon puts a single stitch in the back, holding the fabric from sliding. He smiles at her when she turns around.

"You are beautiful, Honey Girl. if you are ready, we will go talk to Keon."

Her almond eyes widen, fear shining in their depths. He offers his hand and she steps into his palm. Once on his shoulder, she slips under the fall of his hair and wraps a few strands around her waist. Tork settles onto the window sill, sulking.

Twillon heads for the stairs. As he takes the first step, movement outside the French doors captures his attention. There is no mistaking the contrast of colors. Midnight and water. Twillon smiles at the thought. He opens the door slowly. Catching a few words, Twillon stops. Cradle? Soon?

"Keon?"

Their heads turn as one. Both wear bemused smiles. Cassie's hand is pressed to her abdomen, Keon stroking her back.

"Am I interrupting?"

They laugh, inviting him out. Twillon settles on a chair, Weebit peeking at Cassie through his hair. She whispers in his ear. "Baby?"

Choosing his words carefully, Twillon tells them of the Healers' offer, and the need to act quickly. He has to coax Weebit out of his hair. She tries to hide her wings, letting them droop, even though Twillon knows just how painful that is for her. Weebits eyes,dart between Keon and Cassie, then to Cassie's belly.

Weebit interrupts them suddenly. "You are carrying the Dealg Drubh's baby?

She clamps her hands over her mouth, eyes darting to Keon, then Twillon. She drops to her knees. "I am sorry. It is not my business."

Weebit edges backwards, moving back against Twillon. She hides her face. Cassie looks at Twillon in confusion. He cups his hands around her small form, letting her hide.

Keon leans forward, whispering. The words are so soft, Cassie can barely hear.

"Abused, both mental and physical."

"Yes Little One. Cassie bears our child." Keon smiles at Weebit. "Am I really such a terror that you hide from me?"

She peeks over Twillon's fingers. Cassie smiles at the little woman. "Why are you so scared of Keon."

Weebit's mouth drops open. "He is Dealg Drubh. I have seen what he can do. Twillon took me out of the experiment room, but I saw." Her eyes widen as she looks at Cassie. "The wizard will never torture another again."

Weebit looks up at Keon. "He is Dealg Drubh... The Black Thorn... The Dark Dealer of Death." Her eyes slide to Cassie. "You don't understand, do you?"

Cassie shakes her head. "He is scary, Weebit, but he is still Keon. Just as Twillon is still Twillon." Weebit shakes her head. Cassie leans into Keon and whispers, "Just WHAT did you do?" Keon just smiles.

"Take the time you need Twill. See if the Bright Court can help Weebit." Twill nods and Weebit just stares. Keon smiles at her. "Maybe you will see I am not such a Hell Hound, Little One."

Twillon snorts, and Weebit stares openly as he lifts her, cupping his hands protectively. "We leave today. My gratitude, my friend."

As he opens the doors, Twillon looks back and winks. "Congrats you two. See you when we get back."