His scent where it did not belong - Diveen, where he was not to tread. After all, he was still a Marked man by the other Assassin's and if that hadn't been enough, at that point he was Marked by her too. Of course, he was Marked for death purely out of her own selfishness, her own inability to accept the consequences of her actions but... that was just how things were, how they would be for some time. She blamed him for her inability to feel anything but nervousness over the small lives within her, just as she blamed him for trying to put a halt to her career, to condemn her to a life shunned by the Art. His scent was not supposed to be on the border of Diveen, just as his blood was not supposed to endanger the well being of her children. If anybody knew, they'd be watched just as Alyx and Elijah were, Marked for trial and always expected the worst of. No, she had to trust that her mother, that Beowulf, would raise them as their own. She had to believe they would grow up to be... functional, more like herself.

There was no choice though in the matter - she would follow that damn scent, she would find him and she would beat the shit out of him, pregnant or not. Simple but a fantastic plan if she said so herself - she almost smiled at the thought but instead, continued on with the same gloomy face she'd worn for the last week or two. Where she was headed, she didn't know and she stopped not once to check - her sight was tunnel vision in that moment, obsessed with following the faint trail. What would she do when she found that black eyed devil? Yell, scream and pound her fists against him? Rip his throat out? It was her fault too. If only she could rip her own throat out, or rip the little pests right out of her side. She swung her head back to glare at the slight widening of her abdomen, a low growl rumbling in her throat - they were lucky, for now. They were lucky that they would have the chance to prove her right but if she were wrong? They'd be slain by her own Art Kin. Demons - raised or born? She didn't want to put a wager on it.

Only when she turned around once did she stop, completely frozen as her eyes lingered on the dark form ahead. At first, she had sworn it was the bastard and she released a savage snarl, her hackles lifting along her spine. It took a moment to sink in, her mind so desperate to find him, that she was indeed looking at none other than Fathom. The scent of the male radiated from her and she too was thicker in the abdomen, a sure sign that winter had cursed her too. She let her hackles fall, her mouth falling into a soft 'o' - she was confused. Had he sought the two of them out? Had he decided to play God more than once? But what was she doing there - so close, too close to the edge? Malina understood sadness, what it looked like at least, and the girl held nothing but the weight of it over her features.

"Don't," is all she could manage, her voice loud as she stepped forward, brows furrowed, "don't do whatever you are thinking."

She proceeded to approach as slowly as ever, her posture apologetic for her previous actions. She'd never been good at saying sorry but she could at least try to look it, right? This is wasn't exactly in her job description, either, this whole 'saving others from themselves' thing but... well, she liked Fathom. And apparently they both smelt like that wretch.

"Black eyes, grey fur. He got you too?"

She positioned herself some feet beside Fathom, her muscles tight coils beneath her dark fur - if she tried anything... silly, then she would have to intervene. The girl was lighter than Malina, smaller too, which was good. It wouldn't be so hard to knock her down or aside if it came to that - Diveen owed Malina for this, for saving their wolf just as much as the little demons inside her owed them her lives.

M A L I N A
[ five - dark angel of diveen ]


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