Before he'd gone through the change from human to dark hunter as was the tradition of the Daray family, each head passing down the leadership over god knows how many generations, his father had ensured that the unruly adolescent knew what it would mean, following in his father's footsteps and the fathers before him."There is a delicate balance between right and wrong, Lazarus", echoed those stern words in the back of the man's thoughts as he watched the witch before him."It is easily tipped and toyed with by the rise and fall of the supernatural world, but it is up to our kind that we respect this balance and safeguard it as best as we can. To take too much from a garden will leave it bare, all things around it will become unbalanced, and chaos will ensue. Dark hunters have ensured that this balance remain equal from the beginnings of time. There are those who seek to overturn this crucial balance, both our kind and not. By stepping into this world, you will be accepting what is expected of you. Can you live with this?", he had asked Lazarus that day, surrounded by the men of his family and the council that served under his father's reign."Yes, father", he'd answered without the slightest hesitation. His father had furrowed those brows for a moment then, yet he said nothing as the traditional change was carried out. Never had he felt such pain in his life, and several times he laid there wishing that it would all just stop and that the black abyss would wrap those cold arms around him. Just on the brink, he'd been restored, reborn and welcomed as a dark hunter by the council. Back then, Lazarus never even considered the responsibilities that his kind was tasked to keep, but just before his training had truly begun and his father had been able to instill in the young man a sense of control and discipline, his entire life had been ripped out from under him and everything that his father had built was suddenly nothing to him. It was just a shadow in his past that he would always keep his back to. All that mattered to him now was Elain, her safety and her happiness ruling over all those decisions that he had made. Hence why he'd been so certain that getting away from their familiar stomping grounds would be a step in the right direction.

Little did he know what the future held in store for either of them. Anything could have happened that night as he meandered through the east side of Sacosanct. He could have been jumped by other beings. He could have had a run-in with some out of control were-creature just as he was departing the townhouse to seek out something to keep him busy. He could have encountered some beautiful woman that he would have flattered with the intent on bringing her along for some drinks at a halfway decent pub or bar to see if maybe he might have a chance at slating that ever masculine lust, the beast in him ever on the prowl for the opportunity to satisfy itself with heated throws of temporary passion; the one thing that seemed to quell its precarious temper that would rattle on those brittle bars. Literally anything could have happened that night, and of all those unknown possibilities, he had to find her. Never had he been so aggravated by the presence of a woman and yet just her very existence and seemingly inevitable presence in the new life that he was trying to establish for both himself and his little sister, and of course she would ruin his night by bringing trouble his way â€" like, he needed any help finding such a thing. As he watches her, that desire to just leave her is certainly present despite that kiss he fiercely convinced himself was not nearly as good as he felt when she'd pressed those lips of hers to his own. She gives him a look that is only met with narrowed dark forest eyes as she gives an empty laugh, her voice once so full of fire cracking beneath the pain she surely felt. He says nothing in reply and while his mind wanted to let her fall, instinct commanded that he stand there and support her, as much as he hated to be kind to the one who was the reason for his recent aggravation. She looks at him in surprise that he stayed there, those weak yet still burning blues meeting cold and suspicious dark forest, his chiseled features unmoving as she tells him she's had worse."What could be worse than more or less bleeding out all over a nasty bathroom floor?", he questions, though he doubts he'll get an answer, and if anything it was simply a reflexive response because for the most part, he didn't give a shit about how bad she'd been hurt in the past. What a nice guy he was, right?

What does catch his interest for a fleeting moment is her next mumbled string of words likely not meant for him to here. He? Who the hell was "he"? He doesn't have long to focus in on this train of thought that he was certain led somewhere important as she is now nearly glaring at him, scoffing at his words as she moves to step away. Perhaps a good guy would have stopped her from doing so, but he just gives a nonchalant shrug and lets her do what she pleased. If she could stand on her own then she was good to go and he wouldn't have to be bothered with her. However, as he suspected would happen, she falls back into him as her legs give out and this time he nearly won that internal battle to step away so that she fell. If she was going to be a cunt about it, then why should he help her when she was so clearly ungrateful for it? It's not like he wanted to, there was much better things he could be doing right now. Like drinking and dancing with a pretty girl or two. But he was stuck here with the last person he wanted to be stuck in a bathroom with. He almost can't help the wolfish smirk as she finally realizes she actually needed him and for some stupid reason he found this rather satisfying, but the only thing that saves his expression from shifting beyond that displeased look was remembering that he now had to follow through. When she does finally concede, allowing him to shift her so that he could accommodate most of her weight, she makes it clear she couldn't promise that she wouldn't swing at him and he says nothing except roll his eyes. Of all the ungrateful people I get stuck helping... They stagger their way towards the back exit where he pauses for a moment to let the witch catch her breath, noting with those heightened senses suddenly picking up noise from behind that door as it slams behind them only to fly open seconds later. Before he can turn to face the man, the white-haired woman is dragging him down to avoid the fist that comes their way. He hits the hard ground with an "oof" and seconds later she's barking an order at him.

She moves quickly, no doubt with the help of the adrenaline that also raced through his own veins. She reaches into those laced boots to reveal a dagger from each and dark forest eyes widen in clear surprise. Had those been there the entire time?! She moves with surprising grace despite the bleeding wound on her side and he is about to call out to her as his quick vision is able to see the man reaching to pull a gun out. What the FUCK is happening right now!?! The gun goes off but the witch is already out of the way and veers back towards the attacker and knocking the gun out of his hand while in the same fell swoop slashing across the man's abdomen. Blood flies, the body hits the floor, and the intestines of one unlucky bastard roll out onto the concrete. Any other person might have been frozen in place, but Lazarus himself was not unfamiliar with such a scene. The only thing that has him taken aback only briefly is that cold, empty stare that he gives her as he's moving over to where he lay, sheathing her weapons and yet again yanking him around like some ragdoll to his feet. And again, as she quickly says they needed to leave â€" for obvious reasons â€" she's hauling him after her, her breathing only growing more labored with her efforts while he has no problem keeping up with her, half thinking to yank himself away from her but he tolerates it as they run down the alley, passing street after street, until suddenly she's jerking him over towards an abandoned warehouse covered in spray-paint. She slams into the door and pulls him through only to slam it behind them. She finally realizes she's been holding onto him and he is finally free of her, watching as she moves to flick on a light switch to reveal steel pillars and an ungodly number of dummies, obstacle courses, and a variety of other training equipment. Mind still reeling from everything, he looks around to find a black Lamborghini sitting in the corner, looking almost brand new. Who the hell is this chick? He follows her for whatever reason and listens as she speaks over her shoulder."Makes sense", he says cooly as he continues to take in the surroundings, noticing only when they reach the top that she's holding her wound again.

They reach the top of the stairs and she enters into another door, streaking it in her silver blood, and as he steps inside she turns on another light to reveal an unexpectedly luxurious apartment, a grand piano sitting by a massive window but it's when his gaze settles over the room that he sees the weapons and nothing else matters at this point. It was... unreal, the number of various knives and guns that littered this place. What the hell? Are those bomb parts!? He stares around him in astonishment as he wonders to himself now who the hell it was that Elain had made friends with. He almost doesn't even realize after observing the ridiculous number of weapons â€" and two random human skulls on top of some hutch filled with fancy things â€" that he brings his gaze back to a more or less half naked woman. Perhaps if it wasn't for the fact that she clearly had something she was hiding that could be potentially lethal for his little sister on top of all the weapons, he might have taken a moment to enjoy himself as he watches her slipping off that sexy skin-tight body suit, but he doesn't. He's too busy trying not to lose his shit, his mind working to process everything that just fucking happened in the span on what, thirty minutes!? As she drops into the chair, he leans against the doorway that he had only just stepped into, arms folded over his chest. As she seems to ignore him altogether, he watches her as she rises from the chair and moves into the kitchen area where she removes a few towels and soaks them under warm running water before returning to the chair. As she moves her arm to throw him a towel, keen hunter eyes spot the bruises on her arm and dark forest eyes narrow, though he says nothing as he catches the cloth and cleanses his hand of her blood and wipes off what he can from his cloths. When he's more or less satisfied, he returns his calculating gaze to her as she's lifting her shirt to inspect the wound and washes the severed skin. Her clearly exhausted voice ushers a single word and he almost doesn't even know where to start."So. Nice place you've got... Oh, yeah, also.... WHAT THE HELL was all that about? And what the fuck is with all the weapons!? You have enough to supply a militia", he demands, his voice only just shy of being a snarl."What happened to being in the customer service field? And no, weapon trafficking does not count", he questions, dark forest gaze boring into her as he flings the towel over his shoulder as he remains propped against the doorway. He was plenty content with being as far from the witch as the room would allow, but he needed answers. Now.