The dark hunter's world had become incredibly black and white over the years. He had let himself fall into that callused wasteland, there was no room for greyscale in his obscure existence. Autopilot carnage to help mankind stand a chance against monsters they couldn't even dream to understand. He had become some cold, ruthless thing, in order to protect the coveted innocence of light. It was a losing battle, no matter how many he hunted, no matter how many threats were eliminated there was always going to be the next monster to slay. But he was good, damn good at what he did. It was an abstract way of thinking, every evil piece of shit he put to rest was like fulfilling a revenge for his own family's demise.

The fae, this luminescent creature before him was trapped within the greyscale, she made him question himself and those beliefs he allowed to become his personal mantra. Good vs Evil. There was no room for interpretation, no room for believing in the good of monsters. They would always feed off others, always murder and use their gifts for selfish reasons, with all that harm in their wake. But she felt different and in truth, he felt more and more like the monster as he towered over her.

But now, gazing upon her, he found himself struggling with what had come so easily before. How many years had he just killed on sight and now, he couldn't off one little fae? It wasn't how the world worked. It was one thing to save her and leave her, deeming her a nonthreat. But he had to touch her, to be swept away beneath a spell. She was no witch, but this was certainly witchcraft. He was sure of it.

His shadows caressed now, as if curious of the glowing fae, curious of that light that challenged its dark counterpart. He was equally as curious, not that he would dare admit it. Her tender words reach out toward to cold man so delicate and so unlike the man he had become. She inquired about his shadows. "Yes.." he answers without planning on elaborating on his powers. But then he had to look in her eyes and he found himself speaking once more. "The shadows are mine and do my bidding.. but there are times I wonder if they have a mind of their own, if that makes any sense." The rich tenors of his voice slide across the vacant space between them. He calls back those shadows that seemed to explore and press against that brilliant light.. The retreated so quickly it surprised him how much they filled the alley with its stifling presence. However, they did not disappear entirely, merely hugging his form instead, ready to be called upon at a moment's notice. His shadows were weapons, unforgiving and as merciless as him. Part of him wanted to show her them, to put on a display, but he does not allow himself this. He pries his eyes away and focused upon flickering artificial light overhead.

They spoke about where she lived. He knew the west well, he would be able to pinpoint her home. Surely, she would recognize the familiar sights as they combed through the area. She couldn't live too far from Harley, his mind briefly thinking of his sister and he instantly couldn't help but wonder what nonsense she was getting herself into. It had been a while since he last kept tabs on her. He found himself getting irritated with thoughts of his sister, she was uncontrollable and managed to pick the worst possible road in life. Then the people she pissed off along the way, it was a wonder she was even alive with the sheer amount of monsters darkening her door.

She bites her lips, his dark purple eyes shifting to those full lips and how terrible distracting her mouth was. What the hell was his problem? He wrote it off that he was simply having an off night, it would be better if they leave this place. The smell of death permeated the damp air. Death seemed to attract others like a fly to honey. If it were not that alone, it would be her very presence. It would see her blood was like a lure to vampires. He had not seen a vampire act in such a frenzy except in their infancy. This vampire had been undead for much longer.

Her critical voice reached his ears, his head snapped to face her, straightening slightly. She out run him? He nearly laughed, amusement meeting his eyes. He was not always so cold, not always the harsh creature he had become. There was a time he was carefree and playful, unkissed by darkness and hate. Looking at him now, it was so hard to see that. "You only got away because I let you.." It was spoken with such confidence, knowing she would not escape him should he really desire it. No one has. He left out his cryptic reasoning that he found himself curious of her and perhaps part of him didn't want to catch her, perhaps for fear what he would do when he caught her. "You could have been mine the moment you first went down that first alley." He spoke, his amusement gone and his shadows seem to entwine with his confident words. He didn't explain why he let her go that first time or why he continued following. Hell, he wasn't even quite sure why himself.

Oh...okay. She said hesitantly in response to mentioning his bike. "All you have to do is hold on." He could sense that hesitation, that predatory hunter's instinct picking up on her uncertainty with visceral ease. "Besides.. You might like it." He uttered kindly, not leaving much space between them as he waits for her to compose herself. He felt oddly protective over the petite ballerina, he could feel it in his bones. He still didn't understand why, or what the fuck was in the air tonight to cause him to act so out of character.

He says she must make him a promise as the blond fae slung the bag over her shoulder, he eyed it curiously wondering what contents were inside of it. Her voice was so sweet and soft, as though she carried a dreamy quality within her very words and even her movements. But she agreed to it, perhaps out of fear of him alone. "Stay out of dark alleys and if you ever feel endangered, surround yourself with other people. Don't isolate yourself like you did." She would die if she didn't react smartly. He looked at her, deadpan at her to make sure she truly understood his words. Why did he care if she died?

He began to usher them out of the ally way, leaving behind the grizzly scene. He wanted to touch her, to make sure she didn't run off or cause a scene. She hadn't thus far, why would she start screaming like a chicken with her head cut off now. He kept his hands to himself, almost cautious to touch her skin again. He didn't trust himself with this odd effect she was having on him. "So... what's in the bag?" he asks, to fill the silence that flood between them. He should have opened it and searched it himself but then again that would mean he was thinking like his usual self. After he got the fae home, he would call it a night. He clearly needed a good rest.