The City had succumbed to absolute chaos over the last few months; which at first, to the Nephilim was absolutely, without a doubt, entertaining. There were many times that she found the city to be somewhat sleepy if she took away the drama which surrounded The Bradford siblings with their Father as well as the trouble that she often found Siobhan in. Those moments of down time were usually welcomed, but as of late, things in her own life seemed somewhat normal, thus, the chaos which erupted in the city was just what the doctor ordered. It gave the ex-assassin reason to get herself into fights, and get away with it if her Detective Sister questioned her once again why her knuckles were battered and bruised. Not only did this give her a form of entertainment, it also served her as a distraction; many would not believe that she had allowed herself to open up to a guy, yet she had - only for him to disappear from the face of the earth, like a few before him. So, it was so surprise, at least to her, that she needed to keep herself occupied so she could stop her thoughts from venturing to her terrible love life. However, there were only so many fights she could get into, without that getting boring; after all, she had spent most of her life in battle, or maybe, she was simply growing up.

Once Rissa had completed her good deed of the day - cleaning up the messes of the latest violent breakout, she couldn't think of any better reward than the local bar to drink herself into a state of oblivion which would consequently help her sleep at night. The Nephilim placed herself at the corner of the bar, and insisted that the barman kept an open tab for her considering it was still very early in the evening and she had nothing planned for the following day. With the beer in hand, she eagerly took a very needed swig which triggered a pleasurable sigh to bypass her lips. The barman began to make small talk with her, which under any normal circumstance, she would have hated yet for some peculiar reason, the chat was welcomed even if she had no interest in the conversation or the latest gossip of who went home with who from the bar last night. With that in mind, she playfully placed a series of bets with the man behind the bar on who would be next to leave with another; and it was safe to say that her name never made the list of potentials which pleased her despite many trying their luck over the last few years of her frequenting the bar.

The hours passed fairly quickly, in fact, they passed just as quickly as the beers in her hand did; in fact, she even surprised herself just how quickly she knocked back the alcohol - clearly something was bothering her and, as normal, she was not ready to face the problem head on. Avoidance was key. Clarissa began to slump on the stool, her spine arching as she rested her arms on the bar, and then her cheek on her forearms; the bar man insisted she should head home which consequently lead to her snapping a quick 'no' his direction - she was not ready to face her thoughts alone, not yet. Her lavender coloured eyes closed contently as she listened to the buzz around her; from the music, to people simply enjoying themselves but none of those were enough to completely catch her attention until one particular voice spoke above the music to order their next round. The Nephilim forwarded her brow before lifting her head - her gaze trying to adjust into focus at the male who stood a few stools down from her.

Wyatt Brookes? No way, it couldn't be - it definitely had to be her beer goggles playing tricks on her mind. Confused and rather baffled were the only words which could be used to describe her expression as she looked over at the male; yet the moment she found him catching her stare, she quickly and rather unsteadily composed herself to focus on the beer bottle in her hand. "You know it's rude to stare?" She slurred ever so slightly but loud enough for the male to hear her; it was him, it was definitely him and to not give him the satisfaction that she could remember him, she would play aloof and dumb to his being.

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Being back in Clarissa's apartment made him pause at the actual destruction those men had caused when they'd come for them. Wyatt hadn't really noticed how bad it had been when his focus was completely on trying to find her in those panicked moments after waking from near death thanks to the suffocation spell Abigail had inflicted on him. Wyatt's fingers instinctively moved to the amulet around his neck as its source of power would always be a comfort to him. He knew things could've possibly been much worse had he not had the item on him, though he also imagined it was something Abigail banked on because Clarissa was the bait in the end. She knew he would come for Clarissa no matter what. The dark diviner had probably wanted to cause the panic and fear of not knowing what was happening, even if they could've just taken them both in the first place. 

Wyatt moved a couple of the knocked over things back in to the places he assumed they belonged if not just to get them off of the floor. The guilt he felt for it all came back again, but as he looked to the wall where one of the intruders had decided to drag what looked like a blade across it, he also then remembered the few hours beforehand when they were together under better circumstances and he'd had her pressed against that very spot. The sound of what he assumed would be the closet closing in the next room where Clarissa was changing brought him back to the current and he sighed, glancing around the room instead and landing on the chinchilla which made him chuckle. He walked over to it and shook his head. "Glad to see you in one piece still." Clarissa's sudden voice made him straighten up and turn around at her comment. Amazing how she could still look so good in a such a simple outfit, but he would miss the look of her in his clothes. A thought that was still kind of blowing his mind.

The Archives was alive. It was clear they'd closed it down to the normal public as much of the higher ups in the coven were here and the teams of people about were still cleaning up and processing the space. Wyatt had never seen it like this before, but then again, nothing like this had ever happened either. His hues moved to the spot in which Abigail and him had had their final showdown. There were no reminders of the night before as the dark blood that once pooled over the floor was now gone. The thought of the blade swinging to remove Abigail's arm made his head spin more than the whiskey was already doing. He still couldn't believe it had come to that, but even now he knew he had to keep it together and not let her push him again to bring out that darkness. He couldn't let her have that kind of control over him.

Wyatt smirked to the nephilim beside him as she presented her offer. "I absolutely have no doubt in that," he replied to her promised threat and hoped it wouldn't have to come to that, despite the diviner deserving whatever punishment Clarissa deemed fit to instill. They walked behind the coven members through the Archives where they were taken to one of the smaller storerooms in which diviners could house their belongings. It was empty now, save for the person they were looking for. Abigail was seated in a chair, but chained in place, no doubt with the use of magical cuffs that would ensure she wouldn't be able to cast. His eyes moved to her restored arm that seemed to be almost healed if it weren't for the reddened skin around where it was attached again. It hardly seemed fair to him as Clarissa stood next to him without her wings. 

Abigail's head lifted as they all stepped into the room. She seemed weary, but the familiar and taunting smile she always held immediately appeared when her eyes fell on them. "Well, well, well." Wyatt's jaw clenched and he rolled his shoulder in an effort to relax himself. The urge to cast against her was already seeming very appealing. "Missed our time together last night? I know I was having fun."

Wyatt handed the lockbox to one of the coven members and pulled Abigail's phone from his back pocket. He moved to the prisoner's side and kneeled down, pressing her finger to the scanner which finally got him access. Her focus moved from him to Clarissa as she blew a kiss her way. "You could've just asked me, Brookes."

"Forgive me if I don't find you exactly trustworthy," Wyatt responded before looking through the contents of her phone. He immediately went to her last calls which he knew would show the person bankrolling this whole operation and the one who wanted the scroll from him. It was the last phone call she had the previous night when they were being held captive at the Archives just as she was now. The contact number was there and the name with it was X. A wave of frustration went through him and he sighed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy to have the person's name, but at least they had a number which could be traced. Hopefully. He decided to ask the mayor one more favor as he sent her a text with their new found information.

"So.." Abigail began again, keeping her focus on Clarissa. Her eyes seemed to bore into the nephilim with the madness that was now always at the surface unlike when Wyatt had first been introduced to her. "Did you fly in? Heard the weather was supposed to be nice today." 

The buzz of the archives comforted her in what was an incredibly tough situation; Clarissa was a fighter, and faced her fears head on - everyone knew that. Yet, what they didn’t know, that inside the assassin shell she lives in, beneath is that of a young girl who fears a lot of things, and in this particular moment of facing the woman who had abused her, created a whirlwind of emotions. Predominantly these emotions were telling her to run once again in another direction; she didn’t want to see the reason why she had lost her wings, particularly after Rissa had managed to find a balance where no more feathers were turning black nor falling off. The Angel child was doing this for the Diviner stood next to her, he deserved answers and he deserved to find out why he was being used in such a way; and for Clarissa, that was all she needed to keep her back straight and head up. 

A pang of jealousy swelled within her, and her heart ached when her eyes fell upon the woman sat contently within the chair; restrained from using her powers, she was vulnerable, tired even but even in that state she still oozed a level of authority. Clarissa could feel the back of her teeth grinding together as her gaze dropped to the arm which had been restored, and the child within her boiled and a temper tantrum was perhaps only moments away. How was it possible that someone like Abigail could get her arm back with a click of her fingers, but for Rissa to be reunited with her wings was so unknown? “How the fuck did that reappear?” Her voice was raised as her eyes darted between the arm and Abigail; she even glanced over her shoulder to the Diviner’s on guard - challenging them to tell her the truth. Were the Coven nice enough people to mend a woman like her up?

I got my Frankenstiens to patch me back up again Abigail cooed and offered Rissa a crooked smile as she glanced over the Nephilim’s shoulder; indicating it was indeed the Coven. The Nephilim inhaled sharply and exhaled before allowing Wyatt to have his short conversation with her, primarily to use her fingerprint to unlock her phone which would help them in finding out who she was speaking too. Yet what made Rissa more uncomfortable was that Abigail’s gaze did not falter from her; and in response, Rissa pressed her lips into a fine line before glancing over Wyatt’s shoulder at the phone. Just from the look on his face, it was clear that it was not saved under a name which was not disastrous but it could perhaps slow them down ever so slightly. 

With a roll of her eyes, she refocused on Abigail and stepped a little closer, crouched down and allowed the pad of her finger to run across the wound where Wyatt had taken her arm clean off. Clarissa scoffed at the woman’s sneer and shook her head. “This isn’t the last you’ll see me, Abigail. It may not be today, tomorrow or next week but you can be sure I’ll come for you” Notably, with her well known title of The Angel of Death, Clarissa leaned in and pressed a kiss to Abigail’s lips; a kiss of death would continue to linger there until Rissa came for her. 

Clarissa stretched out her spine as she stood, before turning to face Wyatt. “We’ve got the number, and have the tools to search for their location… Spell or not, we just need to keep the phone line on for long enough to get a ping” She spoke, although she was sure Wyatt knew more about tracking than she did. “Use her if you need to, but I can’t stand to be in the same room with her much longer, she’s making me nauseous.” She exited the room, and the moment the door had closed, she could feel her body shaking; she would argue it was adrenaline but in reality it was more nerves. 

Whilst she waited for Wyatt to also exit the room, she attempted to make small talk with the coven members; in an attempt to fish out what they thought about the whole thing and perhaps, a way to protect someone from the lingering effects of Black Magic. Rissa saw this not just as a mission to find out what Abigail was doing and who with, but to protect Wyatt from himself. Upon hearing the familiar steps behind her, she glanced over her shoulder and offered a one sided smile. “Any luck?”

As the goading remark left Abigail's lips, Wyatt was certain that Clarissa would cross the room in one fluid movement and murder her right there. He didn't even know if the wrestling in his brain would be fast enough to decide on whether to intervene or not and that was also concerning. On a normal day with a normal psyche, the diviner would've tried and stop her from carrying out the act, even if he did think she deserved it, but now.. Instead, the very confident steps Clarissa took towards the prisoner was poised and his brows rose for a moment as he watched the quick exchange between the women. He believed if given the chance, the nephilim would see that no amount of magic healing by the coven would fix what she planned on doing to Abigail.

Wyatt stayed quiet, but nodded to Clarissa as he understood her need to put space between herself and Abigail. Once the door had closed, he turned to the dark diviner whose eyes were transfixed on the last spot Clarissa was seen before disappearing into the Archives. There was fear there behind her confident mask and it seemed she finally understood how making the ex-assassin an enemy was not the best of life choices. "Who's X?" he asked, stepping in front of her view. Abigail cocked her head to the side and looked up to him with a cocky grin. He waited a few moments, but she refused to give any more, so he retrieved the box with the scroll from his fellow diviner again. "Fine. Hope you enjoy your prison. You do know what happens in there right?" This too seemed to cause her to falter in her confidence, cutting her eyes away from him to stare at a point on the wall. "The warding and runes will be so strong that your magic will wane until you feel human like the rest of the majority populace. Insignificant. Mundane. Dull." He knew this would break her most of all. No longer having magic was like taking a part of a diviner's soul away. "Enjoy spending the rest of your extended life being.. normal."

Hearing the door close behind him was relieving. There was a weight that lifted he didn't realize he was carrying and moving alongside Clarissa made him instantly feel better. "Nothing from her which I guess isn't surprising, but hopefully a friend of mine will be able to pull through again." The road laid out before them wasn't going to be easy in the least. He wanted her by his side, but at the same time with as much as she lost already, Wyatt couldn't let himself be selfish either. The distance between them was easily closed with a step as he held her earthen brown eyes. "Listen, I know you're probably going to tell me to shut up, but I have to say it." The diviner shifted his weight, but held her gaze still. "The odds are against us and I don't even know what really lies ahead. You're reconnecting with family right now and moving on from a life that brought about trouble. I don't want to be the reason you fall back into it."

His phone suddenly vibrated before he had the chance to finish his thoughts, surprising him that he'd already gotten an answer. Definite perks to having friends in high places on the government end. "Damn, that was fast." Wyatt looked at the address which was sent to him and scoffed. "You've got to be kidding." It was one very familiar to him and one he'd been to before. Everything about this had suddenly elevated to a new level of danger he wasn't expecting. "Son of a bitch." The diviner grinded his teeth together, letting the frustration flow out of him through a deep breath in and out through his nose. Wyatt did a quick search on his phone before turning the screen around to face her with a picture. "Donovan Andrews. Human. Owns a pharmaceutical company, so millionaire. Has a flair for obtaining historical artifacts and the like. He throws parties almost every weekend for more big wigs to come around so they can all talk about how great life is when being rich. Mostly, to show off his large property and all the pieces in his vast assortment. The place is like a museum, really. I went there to trade him some cursed earrings from Romania for an athame once and everything about him says creep." Though, Wyatt couldn't act like he wasn't impressed by the collection.

"The security there is like a fortress. He knows what he has and will do anything to protect it. High tech security and personal armed guards stationed about." He wondered if they were the same detail that was at the abandoned warehouse where Clarissa had been taken. Wyatt's normal route would be to sneak in to the estate and steal whatever it was he was after, but there was no chance of that. Not even he could completely magic his way through after getting in without possibly tripping an alarm or being seen by a guard. Maybe one of these elegant and ridiculous soirees would be the way inside. The personnel would be more distracted by all the guests and the alarm system would be minimalized. Walking through the front door would be the easy way in, but he'd have to glamor his appearance as not to be recognized seeing as his death didn't seem to bother Andrews in the least. It was apparent the millionaire would do anything to get his hands on the scroll. 

Wyatt paused and looked to Clarissa, reeling in from the sudden awareness of the situation. He had the feeling he already knew what she would do, but he still wanted to put the option out on the table for Clarissa to focus on herself. "Have I convinced you enough to get out of this crazy situation or shall I just shut up now?"

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