To Touch The Night... ?!

A girl shrouded in literal darkness and the violence it brings meets a boy blocked from the world but not from the suffering it brings

The alleyways of New Iberia, Louisiana swarm with vermin as night descends upon the city. The hustle and bustle of the streets begins to increase as families emerge from their homes to shop, eat, and participate in good hearted entertainment. Sadly, they all but ignore the homeless beggars that dot the sidewalks, hands outstretched in hopes of receiving anything. The world is ignorant to these people, treating them as is they are a subhuman species. That precise treatment made Ayira feel normal. She could keep her eyes downcast, wear her tattered clothing without question, and avoid touching everyone and everything.
As the night reached its peak, rain began to pour from the sky. City-goers scrambled to find shelter, ducking under awnings and into stores to avoid getting wet. Ayira sluggishly picked up her cup with a gloved hand shaking around the measly 83 cents that had been dropped there throughout the day. With a heaving sigh, she stood from her seated position on the sidewalk, seeing that the concrete had browned at her constant contact. A frown tugged at her lips, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Her clothes began to grow heavy with water and her shoulder length black hair was sticking to her face. She looked down the nearby alley and saw a delivery door with a tattered awning and decided to head there for some semblance of protection from the rain. Her sneakered feet dragged over broken glass and wind-blown wrappers. Even the alley’s rats had found refuge in the garbage bins and broken down cardboard boxes. As she neared the doorway, the single bulb that had lit the alley fizzled out, casting her world in darkness. That was when she was shoved to the pavement, her change spilling out on the ground.
Ayira tried to regain her footing but felt a boot keep her pinned to the asphalt. Her breathing began to quicken and her blood roared in her ears. Her instincts were telling her to run, and run far. She tried once more to stand and was gifted with a swift kick to the ribs and a bellowing laugh for her efforts.
“You’re not going anywhere, Girlie,” A gravelly voice spat at her above. The assailant sounded like he had smoked 2 packs a day since he was 11 years old.
“Please. I don’t know what you want from me. I have no money and nothing else to my name, just let me go,” Ayira’s voice was level until the very end where it hitched and showed her fear.
“I’m not looking for money. I’m looking for a good time, and you’re going to give it to me. Ya hear?” She felt him kneel beside her, his boot still in the square of her back, “Now, you’re going to be a cooperative little girl and take off your clothes, so I don’t have to.”
“I won’t! I’m warning you, you don’t want to touch me. It’ll spell the end of your days, not that you should have any more!” Ayira nearly screeched as she felt him touch her ass through her jeans. He palmed and grabbed at her, groaning as he did it.
“I’ll just undress you myself then,” he said threateningly.
His boot was removed from her back so that he was on both knees to her left side. He put his left hand on the small of her back and reached his other around her right side to lift up her hips.
“Get off of me! I’m warning you again, take that mercy and move on!” Ayira yelled squirming to get away from his grasp, but he continued to reach for the front of her jeans.
When Ayira heard the fly of her jeans go down and her button unhinge she blanked. Her mind turned solely to natural instinct and urged her to kill. She reached her hands down to his wandering right hand and grabbed on tightly, pulling it from inside her denim. She heard her rapist start gasping and a light smile tugged on her kips knowing he was in pain. The skin she held began to turn wrinkled and frail as her darkness spilled into his body. She sat back on her legs in the alley holding the man’s right arm in a death grip that was sure to kill him, and as his breath began to rattle she finally looked him in the eyes. His last breath was an attempt to scream and then he fell limply to the ground, his eyes bloodshot and his skin ashen.
Ayira’s senses finally came back to her and she was just able to hold in her scream. She had killed another. Granted, he had deserved it for attacking her but a human life is sacred and her powers had robbed many of it. Tears began to blur her vision and she quickly stood and bolted for the street under the cover of the storm. She had to run, she didn't know where she would go but she had to get away.
After 10 minutes of running, Ayira slowed to catch her breath and found herself in front of a church on the outskirts of the city. Ayira had never been one for religion but she was soaked to the bone, crying, and shaking from her emotional distress. She climbed the steps to the church and pulled on the heavy oak doors to enter. At her touch the door’s handle tarnished and the wood rotted. Ayira gasped at what she had done but continued into the church. Her feet molded the carpet with every step she took and the walls warped as she passed. Her energy was too dark and her emotions too vulnerable to stop from hurting her environment. Her curse’s power flew from her body to rot, decay, and destroy everything within. Ayira watched with tears in her eyes as the stained glass windows shattered, the bibles turned to soggy masses, and the pews crumbled in heaps of rotting wood and cloth.
Ayira turned to the holy water basin and peered into its depths. Her caramel skin was glistening with rain water, her wavy hair was stringy and as always her eyes were completely shrouded in black. Suddenly, the water turned stagnant and stale before her eyes, taking her reflection with it. Ayira lashed out at the water with her hand, spraying the murky water against the wall. It was all too much and sobs racked her body. She sprinted down the aisle and threw herself onto the steps of the altar. Her body lay a crumpled mess amidst the decayed rubble she had caused. The walls reverberated with her sobs and Ayira could do nothing more that watch her tears burn holes into the stairs like acid.

Mathias woke from his typically uneasy slumber with a start. Someone was inside the church. He rolled his eyes, other homeless finding the church and settling down for the night. Eh, they could have the pews, Brother Mark always left his little nook empty until they ran out of floor space. It was nice to be liked. Qui left the doors ouvert though? his sleep-fogged mind thought. He didn't hear anybody welcoming them in.
The sounds of shattering glass brought him to his senses. Suddenly alert, he clumsily tossed off the blanket and grabbed his pack, tossing through it as quietly as he could until he found his knife. It was speckled with rust and was more tape than hilt, but it was better than nothing. He'd found a good spot here, the brothers were kind enough to tolerate his secretive tendencies, and he'd be damned if he was gonna repay their hospitality by letting some punk teens trash the place.
He crept around the alcove he'd bedded down in, peering around the corner to try and catch a glimpse of the other person. He glimpsed movement towards the back when a girl splashed the water that still filled the basin. Salope, he thought to himself before she ran to the center altar. He was about to stand and confront her when she threw herself on the altar steps weeping. Mathias blinked, suddenly uncertain. Surely he couldn't force a grieving woman out into the rain. He cocked an ear, it was really coming down. There was another noise though, something he couldn't quite place.
It suddenly came to him when the first part of the ceiling came crashing down.
"Merde!" he shouted. What the hell had those stupid kids been doing?! He grabbed his battered pack, and swung it onto his back with ease, racing down the aisle to the fire alarm. Without a second's hesitation he pulled the lever. He'd explain later, hopefully the brothers would understand that a collapsing building merited the same alarm as a burning one.
He was about to leave himself when he saw the pews. They'd rotted to splinters. The carpet looked like the swamp, and the ceiling was cracked like a crushed eggshell. And in the center of it all wept the mystery girl. Mathias didn't like listening to his instincts, because they always got him in trouble, but he knew that somehow she'd caused it all. And furthermore, that she was sorry as hell for it.
"Oh, merde," he sighed exasperatedly, before running back for her. "EH! You! Allons-y!" he shouted when he got to her feet. She didn't respond, simply continuing to weep. Mathias shouted louder, but was drowned out by a beam splitting like a rotted log and crashing down, shattering the already half-destroyed pews.
"Oh bon-sang," Mathias swore, before grabbing her arm and pulling her up. Or rather, his hand circled her wrist, and she was pulled up. Much in the same way the flying woodchips had simply glanced away an inch away from his skin, so did her hand somehow keep its distance from his.
Either she noticed, or she just didn't want to be touched, because she immediately tried to pry her hand from his grip, yelling something about letting her go. "We don't have temps for this," he yelled back. "You can tell me about your touch issues quand on est dehors et sauf!" With that he began to run, dragging her behind him through the collapsing church.
Somehow they made it outside before the  rotting church imploded into itself, setting out a cloud of noxious dust. Both escapees doubled over coughing. When they'd settled, the girl was surprised to hear Mathias giggling to himself. "Just ma fortune huh?" he said between laughter, half to himself, half at the girl. "First church not to kick me out for witchcraft gets itself detruit."

He touched me! I can’t kill another innocent! Ayira tried to pull out of the grip on her wrist. She wanted to go down with the church, she deserved as much. She figured that her dark spirit’s last act should be the destruction of a church and then for her body to decay with it.
“Let me go! You’ll die! Let me go right now!!!” Ayira screamed at the man above her. She avoided looking at her next victim, afraid to see the light leave his eyes. But she was tugged from the steps and dragged from the collapsing church. The entire time beams split and wood crashed and her world was a cacophony of sound. Her instincts told her to follow the man that still had a grip on her arm, and so she did. As they reached the night air and made several steps towards safety the building crumbled into a head, and the air filled with dust and decay. Ayira felt the particles enter her throat and lungs, causing both herself and the man to start coughing. But Ayira was shocked to hear laughter from him. The situation was not one to merit laughter, she had destroyed a church and he had touched her.
“Stop laughing! You idiot! You should have left me there to die, I am a danger to you and this fucked up world. Now you are doomed and I live another day without even a scratch to say for it.” Ayira stood from her hunched over coughing position to finally stare into the eyes of the man, letting him fully see the evil he had saved.

Mathias cocked an eyebrow at the woman. He was already homeless, now he was going to be homeless on the move again, simple stuff, nothing to get so dramatic abou-
Oh her eyes were black. Huh. Yeah, she definitely caused the destruction.
"J'assume that your eyes are doing that because they have to? Better not let les freres see you. They tolerate moi mais, toi, you might be a bit too much."
Mathias blew a heavy sigh from his lips. "Too bad. I liked this place." He suddenly smiled and patted his backpack with one hand. "J'ai mon pack though, that's beaucoup better than the last time I had to make a vite run from somewhere."
He smiled at her dumbfounded expression, and laughed again. "Allez belle, you're not the first pauvre soul I've come across, you're so triste about l'eglise I know you didn't mean it. Assez bon pour moi."
Mathias suddenly snapped his head towards the small monastery where the brothers lived. "We should probably run though, they'll be furieux and we demon children probably shouldn't be around to be given to the police."
"Alors!" he clapped his hands together, easy smile already in place. "You busted up my last maison, your responsabilite to find us the next one. Where to belle?"

Who is this guy? And why isn’t he writhing on the ground in pain? Ayira knew she had a dumbfounded look on her face but she couldn’t help it. There was something up with guy and she wanted to know what but the rain was still coming down hard and she wanted shelter before talking.
“I know a place. Just follow me, I guess,” She hesitantly said, “And if you could drop the French? I know I may look like I am from around these parts, but I was born in New York City if you can believe it.”
Ayira started toward the center of the city, her feet splashing through the accumulating puddles. She was already cold and wet so the rain only continued to freeze her skin. In a silly attempt to shield herself from the man, she pulled the hood of her gray sweatshirt over her head. The hood was one of the only parts of the sweatshirt that looked functional, the rest of what she was wearing was more tattered than it was before her emotional episode in the church.
At least they didn’t disintegrate off. He could have found me in the nude instead of just in tatters. She thought to herself as she trudged through the rain. As the buildings grew more frequent and the city began to truly appear, Ayira began to walk faster. Her long legs carried her quickly through the streets with the other homeless man behind her, matching her strides. The landmarks started to look familiar, the same ones she had stared at for years. Her “home” was coming up on the right when she suddenly came to a grinding halt, this was the first time she would be letting someone in.
Nothing I can do about it now. Ayira turned to face the man once more but kept her eyes downcast.
“Welcome to my home,” She made a sweeping motion to metal door that was crooked on its hinges. Ayira tugged on it hard and it grinded open to reveal a sort of storage room, long abandoned by the shop keepers that had once used it.
“It was the storage room for a mom and pop shop about a decade ago, but they have since packed up and went. I broke in about 2 years ago now and I hole up here. It’s not much but it’s something.”
The room was small, about the size of a walk-in closet. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling and flickered on when she flipped the switch, the room looked so stark and pathetic that Ayira cringed internally. She looked to the floor where she had taken some rags and made a sort of bed from them, then to the wall where she had hung a few of her drawings. The space was cramped and smelled of mold, not a place where she wanted to bring guests. She felt the bubble of shame well in her chest but choked it down.
She suddenly turned to the man and asked in a quizzical voice, “Why are you not dead?”

The walk was quiet and gloomy. Mathias wanted to pull out his harmonica, but his cheerfulness had probably alienated the woman enough already. Meh. So instead he merely pulled out his battered bucket hat and flopped it on his head for appearances. No matter how soaked his clothes got, his tiny barrier that kept them from touching him made him perfectly dry. Rain glanced off him, dripping down his exposed face frictionlessly.
She asked him to drop the French, to which he stuck his tongue out when she turned away. “Bien, ok, for now because you’re leading us, but I’ll teach your francais before we part, and that’s a promise. You’re in Louisianne after all.”
The woman was bringing him closer to the city, which he usually tried to avoid. He was too curious about her to let her go just yet. And besides, he thought to himself, I’m le seul who knows la verite about l’eglise. She might not be as regretful as I thought she was. In which case…
In which case quoi? Mathias rolled his eyes. Vigilantism only resulted in cracked ribs and battered faces, he knew that better than most. He’d give her name to Jean and then try to weasel a couple dollars for his trouble. That was the extent of things.
They clung to the alleys in the way that all homeless learn to do when they don’t want to be spotted. The city was delightful maze, and Mathias took heart that everybody would be too busy navigating to noticed how little his clothes clung to him, or the other tell tale signs that he still hadn’t learned to mask.
The woman eventually led him to a tiny storage room in a dilapidated building. Not the best looking, but it looked like she’d invited her to a permanent spot, which was the closest people like them got to having a home. He was touched, but still dropped his bag into the corner closest to the door. She had dark powers that one, and he wasn’t about to drop his guard that much.
“Why are you not dead?” Mathias started a little at her sudden bluntness. He’d assumed that her curse would probably affect living things too, but he’d wanted to keep his own maledictions to himself for as long as possible. Oh bien sur, he realized, just play le stupide. She can’t question you if she thinks it was just fortune.
“I do not know, should I be?” he shrugged and leaned against a wall. His arms crossed with practiced ease to the angles that made them look the least unnatural. “I just assumed le diable had enjoyed himself enough through your actions with the church, and had gone home when it came to me.” T’es pas religieux Mat, he rolled his eyes internally. It got the job done though. He hoped.
“How about you tell me a little more of what happened, maybe I connait a guy.” He’d bring her to Jean either way. If she was good he might help her, if bad, he’d put a tracking spell on her and get his sister on the case.
"Oh and another thing: je suis Mathias. Salut!" He smiled and gave a tiny wave, but didn't offer his hand. She wouldn't make a deal of it, he knew that much from her panic at the church

The devil my ass, Ayira thought as she kept her distance from the man. There was something about him, it was off-putting for her. There was one thing in her life that was constant, and that was that anything organic she touched was sure to die. She had had to learn how to eat and interact with people for this precise reason, and along comes this guy and the curse had no effect on him.
“How about you tell me a little more of what happened, maybe I connait a guy. Oh and another thing: je suis Mathias. Salut!” The man, Mathias, smiled and gave her a tiny wave. Ayira was in high alert at his words.
“I don’t have to tell you anything. You will only be here for the night. Feel free to sleep wherever you want, but don’t trash the place.” Ayira grabbed up a new pair of gloves from the shelf nearby and quickly slipped them onto her hands. Unfortunately, her emotions were running so high that they started to mold on contact.
Ayira quickly hid her hands behind her back, hoping Mathias hadn’t seen. She then closed her eyes and tried to compartmentalize her life and make it more manageable for the time being. It was the only way she knew how to get her emotions well enough in check to keep from destroying things.
Breathe, just breathe. On the bright side you didn’t kill an innocent, on the dark side you destroyed a church. But the church has money and can rebuild. Everything will work out. Ayira’s chest heaved in a final sigh of breath and her eyes snapped open. She was surprised that Mathias didn’t flinch, her eyes were not something people got used to.
“I’ll be back in the morning to escort you out. Sleep well I guess.” Ayira then grabbed her get away bag from the floor and made a beeline for the door.

The woman ran off without another word. Tres rude of her, thought Mathias, leaving moi without a nom when I’d given her mine. But if she didn’t want to talk, she didn’t want to talk, and that was that. She’d probably gone out to panhandle the late-night walkers, they were often so drunk that they confused quarters and pennies. Ah, those were nice. She’d come back with a hatful of change, heart full of fresh hope and promise and tell him everything he needed to know.
“And peut-etre the wings that will grow on all the pigs ce soir will be the most delicious food ever cooked and le monde will hail New Iberia as the new culinary capitale,” said Mathias aloud, finishing his foolish mental picture with the customary sass he reserved for those too stupid for logic. Which he just was. He had to follow her, he couldn’t leave her alone after all that had just happened. No matter how much he wanted to respect her privacy.
With a sigh Mathias pulled his terrible knife out of his back and tucked it in his belt, pulling the back of his shirt over it once more. It was very obvious until he threw on his filthy grey hoodie over it. The woman hadn’t seen him wear it, so hopefully he’d be disguised in case she accidentally saw him tailing her.
With that, he set out into the night, tracking her footprints through the recently disturbed mud and grime of the alleys. He was so focused on finding her that he didn’t notice to where he was following her. It was only when he’d crossed the bright orange graffiti that he’d realized.
Old stomping grounds of a sort. He was the ground, and they all stomped. A group of gangs that loved kidnapping vagrants. Those pretty enough to catch one of their eyes avoided the ring for a while, but when their captors grew tired of their bodies, they too were forced to fight each other for the entertainment and gambling of the gangers. His devilcurse kept anything from touching him, including fists and steel of all sorts, but they weren’t the only thing pushed. He felt the pain of a punch right before they slipped off his face. He felt the pressure on his knuckles when he landed one as well. He felt the blows.
And he felt them all too well when they’d gotten frustrated by his continual “wins”. The ganger soldiers piled onto him with chains and knives to do their best to kill him out of hatred at the lost money from his survival. When their weapons wouldn’t pierce, their boots rained down on his head, nearly splitting it in two before they’d had enough and walked away laughing. Mathias still didn’t know why he’d survived.
And there was his mysterious friend, being circled by that a group of hunters.  He recognized some of their ink, remembered the blows of their favorite weapons that still hung from belts and pockets. Mathias saw the bulges in their pants from guns and arousal both.
He knew that she was going to die because of them, and that she would only be able to take out one or two from her curse before a rusted revolver freed her from it forever. She was to die this night, and trying to change the fates would only result in him joining her. There was nothing he could do, no sane move he could make other than to turn around and claim her hole at the expense of her blood.
Something inside Mathias twitched, and he stepped forward anyway.
Following instincts.

Ayira bolted through the door and started running for the second time that night. She didn’t care where she went, all that mattered was getting away from the stranger that had saved her. Her feet carried her to the West without her thinking and her eyes focused on the pavement under her converse sneakers. The rain had let up to a drizzle and so there was nothing to disguise her tears, she was scared and confused. The world had always been cruel to her and now it was yanking the rug from under her feet and turning her life upside down. The things she always thought were constant had been proven wrong and now she had nothing to fall back on.
Suddenly, she heard a wolf whistle to her right and then to her left. Ayira’s head snapped up to find she had wandered into gang territory. They were new to the city, but in their time they had murdered a lot of people. The police had made attempts at disbanding them but nothing was effective. The called themselves the Silent Nightmares, mostly because they slink through the night to find their next victim, the only sound ever heard are gunshots.
Ayira’s heartbeat accelerated and her palms grew damp with sweat. She tried to place the location of the whistles but they echoed off the buildings making it nearly impossible. Ayira decided her best chance at survival was to run back. She turned to run toward the center of the city and made it only a couple of steps when they descended upon her, like a pack of hungry beasts. Ayira’s eyes widened in fear and surprise as the gang members came at her in all directions, effectively trapping her.
“Hey there pretty mamma.” One shouted from behind her. She whirled around to face him and nearly tripped. He chuckled at her ungraceful movement and then clucked his tongue to get her attention again.
“What are you doing around these parts so late at night? Mommy and Daddy let you come out to play?” Ayira glanced up at him and determined he was the leader.
Ayira couldn’t think of anything that could get her out of this situation, her curse only killed with skin to skin contact and she couldn’t take them all out. She most certainly couldn’t run from them. There was nothing she could do.
Play into it. Take out the leader and whoever else you can before they shoot you. Ayira nodded her head at her own plan and then with her head down answered the leader in a husky voice, “I didn’t get permission to come here from my parents. I was so curious to see what the Silent Nightmares were like. I have wanted to come and see you for so long. I’ve heard that your girls get treated real good.”
Ayira slowly sauntered towards the leader, her bangs shielding her eyes from his gaze. Not that he was looking at her face, his eyes were on her chest and hips. She finally stood right in front of him and quickly ran her hand down his chest to further entice him.
“Oh you’re one of those girls. Well welcome then Baby, you don’t mind if I call you Baby right? Because I think you are going to be my personal little bitch. Like the sound of that?”
Ayira hummed her approval and she could feel his hard-on pressing against her stomach. Suddenly he grabbed her by the hair and forced his lips on hers. Stunned at first, Ayira tried to pull back but then leaned in. The darkness that was her curse entered her attacker and began to squeeze the life from him. Ayira had to hold the leader up at the end of the kiss. She opened her eyes at the very end to watch the life leave him and saw his panic at her demon eyes.
As the leader crumpled to the ground, Ayira let out a cackle. The darkness had taken over once again, and it was out for blood. Her mind was blocked from controlling her body or her actions, the curse had taken over.
“Who’s next boys?” She heard her voice announce to the gangsters. That’s when all hell broke loose, the gangsters vaulting forward to take her down, “This should be fun!”
The darkness of her curse started to form into visible shadows, and Ayira knew from past experience that the shadows could be manipulated into a person’s body. The shadows would twist and slither through them, causing intense pain and internal bleeding until her skin touched them and finished the job.
There will be blood tonight, I just hope it isn’t mine.

Bruno:
Mathias saw the woman kiss one of them to death, saw the shadows shifting around her. He could feel the death in the air, it was an instinctual chill that turned his spine on edge and his mind begged for him to turn around.
So instead he turned into a full on sprint, hoodie dropping from his face and puddles splashing under his feet. One of the gangers had pulled a needlessly large blade from his coat and was about to charge her. Mathias tried to tackle him.
Instead of stumbling to the ground, the ganger was pushed away as if a car had hit him, throwing him against the opposite alley wall with a crunch. Mathias blinked his eyes in surprise, and then steeled his gaze. He whipped around at the other gangers, whose eyes had been torn away from her from the suddenness of his attack.
“Je suis Mat le Rat motherfuckers, remember me? You couldn’t kill me then, try again now!” he roared

Alyssa :
Ayira heard approaching feet and saw the gangster go flying across the alley at the impact of his body and Mathias'. She cringed internally, for she had dragged him into this blood bath. She wasn't sure of his fate, even if he survived the gangsters he may not survive her cursed self. Her body sprung into action at the disturbance, using the distraction to throw tendrils of shadow at two members. They collapsed to the ground in cries of pain and turmoil, while her body stalked predatorily towards them. She knelt beside one effectively taking his life and tried to move onto the other, when a gun was drawn on her.

Bruno:
The shadows incapacitated two, and she killed one of the downed before he could get to her. Mathias was almost to her when someone stepped forward to cock a revolver at nearly point blank range.
“NON!” he shouted and twisted around to run at him. He stretched out a hand in front of the gun just as the ganger pulled the trigger. Time slowed almost slow motion and Mathias dreaded the pain of the bullet.
Instead however, whatever devilment kept things from touching him increased exponentially. The bullet curved along the path of his outstretched hand, getting redirected from his wrist until it ricocheted along the path of his fingers, grazing yet another ganger that had joined the fray.
There were so many of them that none but the shooter noticed from where the new wound had come from. He gaped at Mathias. “What the fu-“ he started, but Mat’s other fist was already at his face.
“What happened to me curse” he could only think, there was almost none of the resistance he usually felt when he touched someone. His punch just went on and on, and the ganger’s face was the one that moved, bone cracking in an effort to get away from his touch.
The other man crumpled, and Mathias remained standing. The utter opposite from last time. “Or peut-etre pas,” he thought dazedly as a lead pipe hit him behind his knee and toppled him head over heels. The one who’s tripped him shoved a foot an inch or two over his chest and cursed obscenities before raising the pipe again, this time over his head.

Alyssa:
Ayira saw Mathias go down and then the man raised the lead pipe over his head. He was going to die if she didn't do something, but she wasn't in control. Ayira pushed at her curse to help Mathias over and over again. Until something strange happened, she started to occupy the same space as her curse, 2 beings controlling one body. Ayira acted quickly with her new control, shooting the darkness straight at the man hovering above Mathias. Ayira watched as he slowly collapsed to the ground, the pipe clanging loudly on the pavement. The man gasped for breath while clutching at his chest, Ayira darted towards him and placed a hand on his neck. His body fell like a sack of flour to the ground, lifeless. Ayira spotted a couple of the gangers getting away but many still wanted to fight.
"Bring it on!" She snarled as she was once again pushed to the recesses of her mind, the darkness in control once more.

Bruno:
The shadows hit his attacker full force, and then she was there a second later to finish him off. Mathias leapt to his feet, side by side with her while she snarled at the gangers too stupid or high or filled with testosterone to back off. He grabbed the pipe from the ground, curse cooperating for once and allowing him to come within a couple millimetres of it. A good grip was hard to get in his life.
Guns were raised and Mathias immediately swung in front of shadow girl , free hand wrapping around her as slugs battered his back like baseballs. But unlike baseballs, they didn’t hit them, instead creating a cloud of shrapnel on the brick alley on either side of them.
When they finally noticed guns weren’t working he turned back around, whipping his shitty knife out of his belt and flipping it into a thrusting grip. He grinned manically, more adrenaline than he’d ever felt pushing through his veins. He was finally the one still standing in fight, and the thought of that was what made him wink at his companion. “Which side you want?” he quipped

Alyssa:
The gangers all whipped out their guns and Ayira was finally afraid. There was no way that she could survive multiple gunshot wounds. Mathias suddenly stood before her, shielding her body from the bullets. Ayira wanted to scream, because his blood would finally be on her hands. But to her surprise, after the guns had fired their last shots he spun to face them again. His knife was pulled from his waistband and he winked at her and asked her to choose who to take out.
"I'll take the right side," Ayira's body sprung towards the right side of the group, shadows shooting towards her enemies in a hail of dark fury. She took out 4 men, slowing down to watch their pain. She watched through eyes she couldn't control, the men writhe and plead to their gods. Finally, her body sauntered forward to end their pain with soft caresses of the face. Their bodies laid face up, tortured expressions stained their corpses.

Bruno:
Mathias charged, rocketing blindly through the mass. He was like a snowplow parting the drifts. No one could touch him, or even get too close. Some were pushed into the shadows to writhe in pain, others whiplashed into each other or the unforgiving brick. He swung the pipe wildly, finally using his curse to an advantage with the perfect armour. Nothing gets through if nothing can touch you. He almost lost the pipe once when someone caught it against a wild blow to their chest. A quick knife cut to the forearm to get him to let go and then a kick to his chest to send him flying against another one.
The pipe was wet from the rain and the blood, and he didn’t know where his knife was when they’d finished. One ganger was on his knees spitting out teeth and swearing bloody vengeance. Rape, torture, mutilation were frequent mentions. A golf swing finally shut him up. Mathias turned around, wearily raising his stolen pipe to get whoever was trying to get his back, but none remained. They’d all come to their sense and fled. Finally.
“Eh, belle, il’s sont parti, on peut-“ he began to say in relief before seeing her side of the battlefield. Over a dozen dead and lying on the ground tortured expressions on their faces and far too much calm on her face.”
“H-hey, everything vas bien?” he stammered, and when she looked at him with her black eyes he could tell the whoever the mystery girl from the church was, she wasn’t there now.
“Oh merde”

Alyssa:
After she viewed the carnage around her, Ayira felt both guilt and relief. Once she was out of peril the darkness normally let her have control back, but she had ended the lives of all these men. It had been a rough night, full of blood and death, and Ayira just wanted to sleep. Unfortunately, her curse had another idea. It was not yet satisfied, its hunger still raged on. Her body turned toward Mathias and started to slowly stalk towards him. Ayira started to panic.
'No, not him. You can't have him! He is innocent and helped!' She screamed and pounded within her conscious to try to gain control, but the darkness of her curse persisted. Shadows began to build up behind her like a tidal wave of black, a force too strong to be reckoned with. Her body moved with deadly precision around the bodies of the dead, stalking its next prey.
'NO!' Ayira burst through the darkness in one gigantic shove of willpower. The darkness that surrounded her immediately fell away and came to her senses.
"I am so sorry." Ayira's breaths began to hiccup from her chest as the anxiety set in. The scene before her was ghastly and she had caused half of it. She immediately sunk to her knees in dread.
"Why does this always happen?"

Bruno:
“Hey hey,” Mathias assured her, dizzy with relief. Her curse was a lot scarier than his. “Ca va, ca va, there there.” He crooned at her, dropping to his knees in the filthy alley and shuffling over to her. She wept profusely and Mathias did the only thing he could think of.
He gave her a hug.
At first it made her worse, and she tried to pull away. He just held tighter. “The shadows are gone belle,” he insisted. “They’re gone and I’m ok. They’re gone now and you didn’t want to do it but it is done and we move on now. You didn’t want this but it happened anyway and it’s not your fault. You can’t hurt me, no one can, so just let yourself be reassured already.”
He held his breath for a long moment before she hugged him back, tentatively at first, and then with crushing force. He sighed with relief. She’d figure out his curse any moment now, which was not a talk he was interested in, but oh we-
Mathias stiffened at something on the far end of the alley. He couldn’t make it out, but it had red luminous eyes, and they glowed as they openly stared at him. He was about to shout at them to get away or to join their ganger friends on the ground, but all of a sudden the eyes shot up into the sky, trailing black dust behind them.
Of all the impossible things that had happened that night, this was the most alarming because he hadn’t gotten a read of who- or whatever that was before they’d fled. The only thing were the same instincts that always got him in trouble, and they were telling him it wasn’t good news.
Mathias made a snap decision to not worry his companion about it. He was probably exhausted and paranoid from the fight. For now, they had more pressing concerns.
“Allons-y belle,” he sighed, breaking free of the hug and standing up. “People will come, and it will either be la police with guns or more of them with bigger guns. I don’t want to be ici for either of them.”
And with that, he offered his hand. Hopefully this time, they’d both be ready for what that represented.

Alyssa:
He was hugging her and he wasn't in pain. Something was odd about this man, very strange. Ayira, after realizing she was causing no harm, leaned into his embrace and placed her head on his shoulder. But it wasn't as warm as she had expected, and it didn't quite feel like skin to skin contact.
'Mathias is very different, there is something twisted with him too'
Mathias stood from the ground and offered her a hand up, which she took without too much reluctance. Her knees were weak and her breath was shaky, but all and all she was holding up well. The buildings around her hadn't crumbled and her clothes were still intact.
Suddenly, Ayira realized that Mathias didn't know her name. At this point her curiosity over his immunity to her curse was enough to ensure he hung around for a bit, and thus he needed to know who she was. She tentatively held out her hand.
"My name...well my name is Ayira. I figured you should know." she glanced toward the night sky and sighed, "We should go back to my shelter, huh?"

“Oui, thanks, I’m bushed,” sighed Mathias happily. Fighting took a lot out of someone, and he felt more drained than usual. Maybe the curse actually being helpful for once took more out of him? Who knows.
The duo slowly walked back to Ayira’s together, Mathias trying his best to ignore the bruises and other pains that littered his body. Even though the curse kept them from touching him, force was still transferred and he’d gotten quite a few clubbings to some pretty vulnerable spots. He was limping by the time they got back to the storage area, probably from the lead pipe he took to the knee.
He dropped down into his claimed corner with a sigh, bending the wounded knee with a wince and massaging it tenderly. On the opposite side of the room Ayira was doing something with some sheets, probably preparing for bed. They had lapsed into uncomfortable silence, neither of them truly ok with what had just happened, or with their curses.
“So, demain, we should probably visit a friend of mine,” Mathias broke the silence, “he knows a lot about… well, ce sort de chose.  He might have some advice to give us.” He then grinned hopefully, as if the visit from Jean would cure all their woes.
Sadly, he was more concerned with his physical woes at the moment. His breath caught in his throat when he moved incorrectly and some fractures made themselves known. Ayira moved forward to help him but he waved her off. “I’ve had worse. They’ll fade by morning. Get some rest, I’ll stay up and distract myself a little before turning in.” He took his tin harmonica and blew a few keys into it experimentally. “Don’t worry, I’ll play doucement. Musique helps take the mind off the simple bodily woes we go through in la vie.”
Ayira was obviously unimpressed with his medical expertise. He grinned at her and shook a battered plastic medicine tube with a couple antibiotics and a few aspirin. “Bien sur, if that fails, I do have a little quelque chose. You can find all sorts of aide if you look hard enough.”

As they settled down in the storage closet, Ayira could tell that Mathias was in great pain. He kept wincing and favoring his uninjured knee as he tried to get comfortable. Ayira wanted to help but there was really nothing she could do. She continued to form a nest of blankets, all of which she had scavenged for. Each night she rotated the blankets, trying to keep them from decaying. Her dreams often dictated how well that worked.
As she finished her nest she heard Mathias gasp a bit in pain and she turned to go towards him. She stopped short as he reassured her that he would be fine and that he had had worse. Ayira rolled her eyes at his brave face and decided to let him have his way. She settled into the pile of blankets and listened to his faint harmonica playing. He was very good and the twanging notes calmed her frayed nerves. She hadn’t enjoyed music in a long while.
“You’re very good.” She stated matter-of-factly and then turned her back to him. She stared at the wall intently, not wanting to focus too heavily on Mathias. He made her very curious and she wanted to observe him, but that wouldn’t be acceptable. Plus, sleep was pulling heavily on her conscious. Soon enough she drifted into a deep slumber
Where am I? This looks like home, but I destroyed home. Didn’t I? Ayira dreamed fitfully, her body starting to thrash in the sheets, I wonder where Mom and Dad are?
Ayira’s dream-self drifted through her old home. It was a large mansion, adorned with marble halls and decorated in folk art. The carpets were a burgundy color that complimented the drapes  perfectly. Of course an interior designer had decorated the entire thing. Ayira walked through the halls of her home, skimming her hands along the smooth cream colored walls.
Mom? Dad? She turned into the study and came upon her father at his desk doing work and her mother lounging on the sofa in front of the fire place.
“Hello Ayira, what is it you want?” Her father asked in a stern voice.
“I want to play outside with the neighbors but the nanny won’t let me” The words slipped through her lips without her realizing. Suddenly she remembered, this is the day they died.
“Well the nanny is right to keep you away from them. They are filthy, nothing like you little dove. We are better than them. Right at this moment your Daddy is scamming Mr. O’Neil out of every red cent he has” Her mother chuckled while sipping a flute of something.
“But that isn’t nice. That is cheating Dad.” Little nine year old Ayira stated, raising her voice.
“Young lady! That is no way to talk to your father. He works very hard to provide for this family. He works night and day, and all through the week so that you can have pretty dolls and clothes. Isn’t that what you want?” Her mother said as she stood and stalked towards a frightened but emboldened Ayira.
“Dad cheats! My teacher said so. She said that Dad takes money from people unfairly and makes them poor. She said that he is a bad business man!” Ayira stood taller as her mother was right in front of her, staring her down.
“How dare you? You’re being a brat!” Her mother raised a hand to slap the little girl.
“You’re both bad! Bad people! Everyone thinks so and I don’t want to be like you!” Ayira yelled waiting for the slap. As her mother’s hand came into contact with her cheek she hissed in pain. Her mother’s hand began to wrinkle and Ayira watched as the wrinkles traveled up her arm. A dark force seemed to slither through her veins. Ayira watched in horror as the darkness ran into her mother’s eyes and she saw the twinkling of her own as the light was extinguished from her mother. Immediately, Ayira’s father leapt from his seat as his wife collapsed and ran to her side. He cradled her limp form in his arms and looked up at his daughter. As their eyes connected he gasped and fell back to the floor. His daughter’s eyes were pure black now, a vast difference from the hazel they had always been.
“What have you done?” He questioned the young girl as he backed away, “Where is my daughter?”
Ayira confused by his statement and scared of what had just happened to her mother began to cry and flung herself at her father for comfort. Little did she know that as her tiny hands made contact with his neck, that his fate would be the same as her mother’s. He began gasping for breath and Ayira pulled away and watched again as the light left him. Her dream-self began screaming in horror as her curse had activated and took from her the parents that had raised her.
Ayira bolted awake with a scream caught in her throat, tears streamed down her face and the sheets deteriorated quickly. Her dreams often turned to the awakening of her curse, the day she murdered her own parents.  Suddenly, Ayira heard the sound of the harmonica from the corner of her closet. She remembered the night before and calmed instantly knowing it was Mathias. He was still playing, his music entering her troubled soul and soothing her raw emotions. With a few deep breaths, Ayira turned her body to watch him play. She felt a strange, entrancing emotion that captivated her to watch. The same emotion that kept her from speaking and breaking the spell.

Mathias woke first, coming out of his slumber slowly and easily. The room he was in was unfamiliar, his body still ached, and he didn’t hear the brothers chanting in the distance. Still though, it was far from the worst thing he’d woken up to, so he didn’t panic, and simply waited until he recalled the events of last night. Explained the pain for sure. Mathias rolled over, shifting his arms from their comfortable positions tucked into pockets and underneath his coat to push himself up.
He looked blearily around until he spotted Ayira in the opposite corner. Her blankets were even more tattered than usual for a homeless person, and moldy at that. Her curse must be unconscious as well as triggered by emotion. Yeesh. He pushed himself further up against the corner wall, leaning against it sleepily. He yawned deeply and scratched his cheek. Je devrais me razer bien tot, he thought, but suddenly Ayira began shivering.
At first he thought it was because of an errant breeze, but he quickly realized she was in the throes of a nightmare. Oh merde, merdemerdemerde, he quickly panicked. He was bad with emotion spikes, and he knew that his usual hug it out routine wouldn’t fly this time. Mathias desperately looked around for something to do, and then spied his harmonica, lying on his pack where he’d left it after playing it last night. Inspiration struck. She certainly hadn’t complained when he’d distracted himself the night before, and the loose change that accumulated in his hat during the day made him confident enough in his playing. He snatched it up, and held it within gloved hands that masked his non-touch. Paused. Cleared his mind. And then blew.
Music was… different for him. It wasn’t just the pride of making pleasant sounds, of making the people who heard them happy, it certainly wasn’t the deep soul-reaching whatsit that the jazz musicians that littered the clubs and alleys of the tri county area went on and on about if you gave them half a chance. Instead, his playing was his connection to happier times. Mathias couldn’t really picture the scene of those times, or the time, nor did he care. He’s seen what memory of past happiness did to past streetfolk. How it could haunt them. His music brought him back to the simple enjoyment of his life, without the bitter sweetness or wanting that always accompanied actually remembrance.  He liked to think it did the same to those who listened.
He didn’t know how long he played, but as always, when he finally opened his eyes, it was the right time to do so. Ayira was awake, lying still with her eyes laid plainly on him. Her face was wet, but he assumed that was from her nightmare. “Bonjour Ayira,” he grinned cheerfully, stowing the instrument into an inside pocket. He made a snap decision not to question her about the nightmare until later. “How do you feel?”

Ayira sat up and smiled at Mathias, he looked so calm and casual. She was still cautious about her guest, but he did make her feel less abnormal. The biggest comfort was his lack of reaction when she looked at him. She had never been able to look at someone without them fleeing in terror. Mathias had a presence that seemed to soothe her raw nerves, and even if he was suspicious, it was welcoming.
“I’m feeling hungry,” Ayira rolled her shoulders back in a stretch, “You? I’m hoping you slept alright. That church looked more posh than this space, way better for the back.”
Ayira chuckled darkly to herself, not being able to remember the last time she had a decent night’s sleep. Her back was in a perpetual slump and her neck didn’t like to stay aligned, but there was nothing a homeless girl could do about that. Ayira stood and peeked at her sheets.
Ruined. Fucking nightmares. Ayira sighed and stooped to pick up the rotted sheets. They smelled like mold, a perpetual smell that followed her. She grimaced and her face twisted into a sullen expression at the thought of finding more bedding. She dropped them to the floor and kicked them to the corner to be dealt with later. She shook her head, as if to clear it, and peered up at her visitor.
“Wanna go find some food? I know a shop keeper down the street that gives me the newly expired food.” Ayira felt a shudder go down her back at the thought of the shop keeper. He was a lecherous man and to get the food she normally had to show a little skin. Luckily, he never laid hands on her.
“I’m just gonna change into my spare clothes and then I’ll lead the way.” Ayira turned to the shelf where she had her only other set of clothes. It was a dirty pair of dark jeans and a tattered V-neck shirt that showed more cleavage than she would have liked. It attracted too much negative attention and usually got her into trouble, but it kept her fed. She slipped her hoodie over the ensemble and turned on her heel. She strode quickly out the door and kept her head down, not waiting for Mathias. Ayira made sure to dodge all the foot traffic, fairly slow for so early in the morning. As they neared the shop, Ayira adjusted her cleavage and then walked up to the back door.
With a tentative knock, she called out, “Hey Mister Lee!”
Suddenly the door swung in and revealed a burly man in a stained white apron. He grinned at the sight of Ayira and chuckled deep in his throat.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the little street bitch. You in heat yet?” He cackled at what he thought was a clever joke.”
“Not yet. Just looking for something to sweeten me up.” Ayira cooed. She had gotten good at playing the part. She leaned in towards him giving him the perfect angle on her breasts.
“Alright, alright. How about some powdered donuts and a carton of juice. Only a day past. Sound good?”
Ayira smirked toward the ground, “Good enough to eat.”
The man walked inside to retrieve the food and she turned to her companion with a thumbs up.

Mathias followed her closely, narrowly missing a car while he tried to stuff his rolled-up coat back into his pack. He never left his stuff behind, regardless of how assured he was of returning. He kept an eye on where he was going, and barely caught up to Ayira as she accepted a parcel from someone in an alley. He immediately summed up the situation when he glimpsed the shopkeeper leer at her chest like a piece of meat. Disgusting.
He watched from behind a corner, not interfering while she thanked him overly flirtatiously, obviously to keep up appearances for the next time. He suddenly reached an arm out for a grope, but she danced out of his range coquettishly, giggling. Finally he withdrew and she let herself slump down and pull her shirt back up.
Mathias turned the corner, hands in his pockets. They walked down the street together, splitting the meager bag of powdered donuts. Ayira was happy that Mathias was there to hold the bag for once so her powers wouldn’t rot the food before she was done eating it. Although there was no use savoring the meal, the shopkeeper had obviously lied about the age of the donuts, one of them was too hard for even starving street folk to bite into. Mathias wrapped it up and kept it in his pocket just in case. “Waste no want not,” he quipped when questioned.
The meal was not filling in the least, more so because the orange juice was already half-spoiled and even the few seconds Ayira had held it had compounded it irrevocably. They threw out the moldy juice a block after they’d gotten it. “Let’s try a place je connait instead. They will be a little less… degoutant than your guy, I think,” he offered. With some hesitancy, Ayira agreed, and they went off together.
They walked quickly, and a few minutes they were in a bit better neighborhood. Mathias could feel that Ayira was uncomfortable, but he knew the reward would be worth it. Together they approached the open-air terrace of a restaurant. There were already diners having breakfast, enjoying eggs and bacon in the rapidly evaporating mists from last night’s rain.
Mathias led her to a bench next to the terrace hidden from view by some hedges. He motioned for her to sit down, and he crouched behind one of the decorative bushes and reached behind, keeping an ear on the radio being played through the restaurant. In between two commercials, he flipped off the power switch on the speakers of half the terrace. Ayira saw and franticly tried to stop him for fear of getting caught, but he waved her away, finger at his lips for quiet. Instead, he simply took out his harmonica and waggled it in her direction, before settling down on his half of the bench and playing.
Ayira decided to just play it cool, and let herself relax at his playing. It was a bit odd that he was busking without a hat on the ground, and so close to an actual establishment, but he seemed to know what he was doing.
Sure enough, 20 minutes flew by, and when Mathias put the harmonica away and flipped the switch back on. A few minutes after that, and a young man stepped out holding a heavy bag. He looked around, and spotted Mathias when he waved.
“Salut Jacques! Quoi de bon tu m’apporte cette fois?”
“Salut Mat! Lecture excellente, comme d’habitude, voice votre ‘paiement’. C’est qui la blonde?”
“Ah, elle s’appele Ayira. Elle pourait venir avec moi de temps en temps si elle continue a me tolerer.” Mathias shrugged. “On va voire!”
“Bien,” said the waiter with a grin, “je ne vais pas interromper votre rendez-vous.” He dropped the bag between them with a wink.
Mathias sputtered, “bu-… mais, non, c’est pas cette sort de blonde!”
“Mais bien suuurrr,” teased Jacques before disappearing back into the restaurant.
Mathias pouted at the closed door, before rapidly changing the subject before Ayira could ask for a translation. “So yeah, the proprietaire knows me, more importantly, the staff knows my musique. They let me turn off the radio and play, and usually, les clients like it better. So, they give me whatever scraps they don’t touch, and whatever les plus gentil buy for me when they ask about the live music. I can eat pour a jour entier if I sit here for a couple hours.”
“Et bonne fortune pour nous,” Mathias said while smiling at the contents of the bag, “We must’ve had a melomane, somebody gave us an entire gaufre!”
Mathias held the bag and dished out portions of food for Ayira on the paper plate they’d also been given. The staff only gave the food that nobody touched, and since it was a pretty well off neighborhood, the duo ate pretty well.

Mathias was amazing with that harmonica. The music he produced soothed Ayira in a way that nothing ever had. She sat on the bench, a bit worried about the consequences, but enjoying every second of his playing. She even hummed along softly to herself when she knew the song.
Eventually a man came over to them, he obviously worked for the wait staff and it seemed like he knew Mathias pretty well from their conversation. They talked in rapid French, a language that Ayira had never quite grasped, and the man left after handing over a bag and making Mathias blush. As Ayira opened her mouth to ask for a translation, Mathias worked on dishing out the food. It smelled fantastic and made Ayira forget all about the previous conversation. She ate quickly and quite ravenously to avoid spoiling the food before it got to her mouth. She didn’t want the delicious breakfast to turn rotten at her touch, an occurrence that happened much too often. Ayira watched Mathias out of the corner of her eye as she ate, studying his face. She was slightly mesmerized by his features and then by his hat. She hadn’t noticed it before but if didn’t look as if it was on his head. Ayira stared hard at the man before her trying to figure out what she was seeing.
It must be a trick of the mind. You’re imagining things Ayira. She thought to herself as she turned her attention elsewhere, not wanting to be caught. But she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off of her new acquaintance. His presence was an odd one in her life, the curse demolishing anyone that ever got too close. But he was close now and had been even closer and he still lived and breathed. Ayira decided in that moment that she would find out what was up with her companion.
Ayira turned her body to face Mathias on the bench and looked him directly in the eyes, “There is something up with you, and you will tell me. There has to be a reason you aren’t dead and I want to know it. In exchange,” Ayira heaved a heavy sighed and looked down quickly at her shoes only to have her eyes dart up again, “I will tell you about my curse.”

Mathias paused, link sausage half bitten in his mouth. With an effort, he finished chewing and swallowed roughly. He tucked his arms between his knees, bending over and sighing deeply. He let the moment linger for a minute before speaking.
“Ayira…” he began, “It’s not that I want to mentir, because I don’t. We’ve gone through a lot already, and… you deserve la verite. It’s just…”
At this he got up and walked off to the opposite side of the alley. Back facing her, he let his mind dissolve into turmoil. He didn’t want to do this, but he felt… he could trust her. He could trust this one. But god. What if he was wrong? She was so close to a friend, and it had been so long since he’d had one.
What if she abandoned him, like the last time he’d been naïve enough to reveal himself?
“Mathias?” he heard come from behind him. He turned and looked over his shoulder. Ayira sat at the bench, hands unconsciously clasped, stance unwillingly betraying her nervousness. Her fear. She was going out on a limb, and hers was a dozen times thinner than his.
He smiled then, because if she was willing to tell him about her bloody curse, surely he could trust her in return. “Ok Ayira. I’ll tell you.”
He walked over to her, and then held out his hand. She looked at it confusingly before trying to shake it. She grasped his hand, but before she could let go he gripped tighter. “What’s tort avec my hand Ayira?” he asked. It was easier if they realized it without him saying it.
It took her a few seconds before she gasped in shock and then immediately let go. “Go ahead. Essai to touch me.” She hesitantly reached out again, prodding at his hands, pinching his fingers between hers, squeezing the limb as hard as she could.
“Easy there,” Mathias smiled, “Just because I can’t touch anything doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”
“Anyhting?” she asked
“C’est le vie,” he responded, a touch of sadness now apparent in his voice. “Or at least, it’s mine. The force is there, but the curse dulls it, makes it unable to get close enough to feel. The wind on my face is boring, the water of a river is not refreshing, and most of all, I have never actually felt someone’s touch.”
He took his hand back and sat down on the bench with a grunt. “This bench, it’s foreign to me, so I would hover a full inch or deux above it. Mes abis they mask it, because I wear them tout le temps. The more familiar I am with something, the closer I can get, until- well, this!” Mathias held up his omnipresent harmonica. “I can nearly feel the engravings on this thing, and I can play it perfectly. Usually everything feels like I’m wearing thick rubber gants, but with things like this, or with my own body, it feels like I’m separe by rien more than hospital latex. And when it comes to bullets or boots,” at this he chuckled darkly, “I can get upwards of a foot of deflection. It’s how I survived the rings back in the day.”
“So yeah,” he finished lamely, “That is how le diable has touched me. What’s your story?”

“My curse,” Ayira looked down at her feet with a painful twist to her features. Images of the fateful night that took her parents away from her and kick started her killing curse coursed to the forefront of her mind. She couldn’t tell this man the details of how she got her curse, not yet anyways. Ayira looked up with resolve and stared into the eyes of her new companion
“My curse is one of darkness, it was placed on me as a baby but it didn’t take effect until I was 9 years old. One day my eyes turned black and I learned that everything I touch dies. I haven’t exactly figured out how it works, although I would explain it like a dark soul sharing my body. When I am emotionally compromised I have no control over the darkness but sometimes I can keep the force within me. The church was a result of being emotionally compromised. The darkness seeps out of me and into what I am touching and then takes the light from it. It’s hard to understand unless you can feel it.”
Ayira sighed a breath of relief. She had never told anybody so much information about her life, let alone someone that was nearly a stranger, but she felt like she could trust him.
“At the fight my darkness took over. It does that if I am in serious danger to prevent me from dying. The darkness is like a parasite, it needs me to survive or it will lose its host. When the darkness takes over, it can weaponize itself into whip-like tendrils and sneak its way into objects without direct contact. It’s scary, I watch myself become a monster from within,” Ayira paused and waited for a response and heard nothing, “So that’s my story.”
Ayira looked at Mathias to see his response, hoping that it wasn’t fear or disgust.

Mathias took a while to answer, processing what she’d said. He’d assumed as much after having seen her at work with the gangers the night before, but hearing her say it so outright was another thing entirely. He was unsure what to say really, and fiddled with his harmonica, tapping it on his knee as he tried to come up with the words.
She was monstrous, but not a monster, that was for damn sure. No more than he was. Her curse was a horrible thing, and he felt a kinship to her. She’d felt the touch of another human being at some point, but it would inevitably cause their deaths. Such an existence was incomparably sadder than his.
He knew that the more he delayed saying anything, the more Ayira’s fears would grow. So he took a deep breath and began. “There’s beaucoup de morts because of that curse hm? But not because of you. Not because you wanted them mort.”
Mathias leaned back into the bench, and reached out a hand to her. “Mais I will not be one of them. You cannot hurt me ma chere. The curse cannot touch me, no matter how it rages within you.”
With that, his hand gently crept to her, and he held it close to her face. She hesitated at first, but eventually she tilted her head into his palm. Mathias stroked her cheek with a thumb as much as he could. The pressure made an indent in her skin as he gently comforted her. “Vu voyez? No harm can come to either of us because of your curse, je vous promet. But all the same…”
With this Mathias leaned in and pulled her a little closer so they could stare into each other’s eyes. “All the same, I think we should get rid of it.” And then he grinned. “And I might know a guy.”

Ayira waited with baited breath for Mathias’ answer. He stayed silent for a long time, seeming lost in contemplation, and each second that passed made Ayira more frightened. Her curse was scary, and it could easily frighten off her new companion. Scenarios began playing through her head of what he would say, all of them ended with him getting up and walking away from her. Her hands tightened around her knees as she fretted, her pulse beating frantically in her chest.
Finally, he spoke and his words weren’t what she expected. They were supportive. They were kind. He wasn’t going to abandon her! A slight smile tilted the corners of Ayira’s mouth as the thought quickly flitted through her mind. She watched Mathias with an awe, he was an impressive specimen of humanity, tolerating her curse like it was natural. Although, his curse did give him and insiders perspective on being a freak of nature.
This friendship might just work, Ayira thought to herself as Mathias reached his hand toward her face. She glanced at the advancing hand and felt apprehension at first, but knowing she couldn’t hurt him she didn’t resist. She leaned into his almost touch, she could feel a pressure on her cheek but it wasn’t the feeling of skin. It was an odd sensation but a welcome one. He then pulled her face closer to his and looked into her eyes, the touching was something she could grow used to. She could really use the help of a person who couldn’t die by her touch.
Then his words shocked her, “All the same, I think we should get rid of it. And I might know a guy.”
“Know a guy?” Ayira’s eye widened, “But how? And who? Who could possibly help me?”

Mathias shrugged. “Il est a guy I met. He might not even be in the city au moment, he comes and goes. I don’t know beaucoup about him to be honest. Just that his name is Jean and his voodoo is the real stuff.”
He noticed the flash of incredulity that crossed Ayira’s face and laughed. “What, you don’t believe that les magie of this world can be controlled? We’re preuve vivant that they exist, why shouldn’t some better people be able to control it?”
Mathias sobered for a second. “But speaking honestly, I’ve seen a lot of things on the streets all these years. And beaucoup is bullshit. The smoke and mirrors of any magician aimed for tourist pockets. But sometimes….”
He shook his head and got to his feet. “You’ll see the sometimes when we get there. We’ve finished le petit dejeuner, so unless you want to beg for cab fare, he lives on the outskirts of town and it will take us a while to walk.”
Ayira furrowed her brow in disbelief and Mathias rolled his eyes. “Listen, I know magie is 99% bullshit, and the other bit is charms de or le miracle occasionel, but I swear, Jean and his sister know things. And even if they can’t help us, they sometimes have a bit of work for me, and we can split the tip. What do you say?” he asked as he extended his hand.

“I guess I will just have to go find out for myself, and that tip sounds nice.” Ayira rose from the bench and saw that the weeds beneath her feet and rotten and died. She sighed audibly, she hated killing anything, even weeds. It was a reminder of everything wrong with her life. She shook her head to clear it and then looked up to the sky. It was dark and cloudy, it looked like rain was on the way. She didn’t want to get caught in the rain, knowing it was going to remind her of last night.
“Let’s try to get some money for a cab. Although, I hope you're better at getting cash than I am. For some reason, people don’t give money to homeless girls that won’t even look at them in thanks,” She quirked her eyebrow at her own sarcasm, “I know where the foot traffic is good at this hour and it’s conveniently on most taxi routes.”
Ayira started off toward the center of the city, it was a hub of noise and motion. There were peddlers already on the street and she caught a glimpse of an acquaintance. His name was Crazy Larry, He was blind and was guided by the voices in his head. Ayira liked to speak with him on occasions as he couldn’t see her eyes and his voices always told him not to touch her. It was an interesting relationship.
She crossed the street to where Larry sat with his money cup and his sack full of belongings. He looked sad today, a frown under his scruffy gray beard. As she approached with her guest in tow, he glanced toward her.
“Hey! It’s the young’un. How are you doing little lady?” Larry asked politely.
“Trying to make it each day Larry, same as you. How’s business today?” Ayira squatted down in front of the old man, close enough to smell the years of street life on his body.
“Steady. Although, people are suckers for old blind men not so much for rude teens.”
“I’m not a teenager anymore Larry and you know it.”
“Close enough. Who’s this with you? The voices tell me he is different like you, not to touch him either.” Larry glanced up at the face of Mathias.
“Just another addition to our street folk collection. I found him hiding out on Catherine Ave. and thought I would try and help a guy out.”
Larry hummed understanding and nodded at Mathias briefly, his blind eyes staring directly into his eyes.
“Anyways, we gotta get going for the day. We aren’t making money chatting here and neither are you. I will talk to you later Larry, and tell those voices that I say hi,” Ayira stood from her crouched position and began walking down the road.
“You know as well as I that they can hear you!” She heard Larry mumble at her retreating back. Ayira strolled down the street and found a spot near the mouth of an alley where foot traffic could see her but she wouldn’t be in the way.
“So how do you beg, my friend?” Ayira asked her companion.

“Hm,” murmured Mathias. “Well, usually I just find a plaza or square and just play until mon chapeau fills or I see cops. But I have a belle idea. Keep our spot chaud, I’ll be but a second.”
With that, he turned on his heel and paced towards a nearby dumpster while Ayira settled down with an outstretched hand, her usual paper cup having disintegrated sometime during the night before.
Rooting through the trashbags, it wasn’t long until Mathias found what he was looking for: the mark of an underpaid employee too lazy to separate the recyclables. With intense focus he managed to squeeze a grip onto the cardboard box and slowly pulled it of the refuse. He tore the grimier bits off it and hurried back to Ayira..
He sat down with a huff, and pulled his bag to his front. Ayira cocked an eyebrow at him, and he winked in response. One hand reached into his bag, and he struck a comical pose as he pretended to struggle. Eventually he pulled out a sharpie marker, and bit off the cap. He hunched over the cardboard and began to write evenly, hiding the writing from Ayira playfully. After a minute he flipped the sign to face her, beaming. “We did it for love, but money would help” it read in shaky handwriting.
“Well?” Mathias asked after an awkward ten seconds of silence. “I’m not flirting avec vous, I just know that l’amour sells. All you need to do is lean up against me while I play some of the chansons d’amour I hear on the radio and we’ll be golden.”
He reached up and rubbed his neck in embarrassment, “Bien sur, if you’re not a l’aise, we can do our usual. Votre choix.”

Ayira’s eyes widened with shock as she read the hand writing on the cardboard sign. She listened to Mathias awkwardly explain his rouse and then wait for her response.
“But I can’t…” Ayira stopped herself midsentence. She was going to insist that she couldn’t lean against him because of the curse, but she could. He was probably the only person in this world that she could touch. Ayira’s eyebrows furrowed as she thought about her choices, she quickly decided that Mathias’ plan was a better way to make money than just begging.
“Okay, we can try it.” Ayira looked up at Mathias from under her bangs and then quickly cast her eyes to the ground. Passersby couldn’t see her eyes or they would run terrified. She pulled her hood up over her curly brown hair and waited to feel the presence of Mathias beside her. He sat down to her right, his harmonica in hand and the sign perched on his crisscrossed legs. Ayira reached over and took the sign from his lap and instead placed it on her own. It was tall enough to hide her face behind if she had to and Mathias would need his hands to play.
Ayira took a deep breath and slowly leaned onto her companion, unsure of how it was really supposed to work. She lay her head very lightly on his shoulder and sat stiffly. A couple of people passed and gave them odd looks; they didn’t look like a couple. Ayira swallowed hard and relaxed her spine. She placed her head more securely into the nook of Mathias’ shoulder and even went so far as to place her hand on his lap. She closed her eyes like she was relaxing with her boyfriend.
Hopefully this will be enough, she thought to herself as Mathias began playing.