Nothing has been so straight forward as he had first thought it would be. He was a guardian again to his new Wayfinder Ophelia. Trying to make amends, gaining her trust and the trust of all other Celestials. Atticus knew it wouldn’t be so simple that it’ll be a long road with all that their species have gone through. A part of him still felt that it was his fault with how things had gone. That it should of been him there with them if he hadn’t been a coward back then. Now things were all different he was trying to help out, training with other Celestials. Whilst too assisting Ophelia. Atticus too was trying to wrap his head around other things or more importantly people. With new and old people coming into his life. Some he’d never thought was possible. A daughter and brother was the most surprising to him. Back to the time when he died, Atticus thought a long time ago he lost everything. Everything was so different now but it in a good way.  All winding up in the same city. It's ironic how coincidences does happen, for him more than others would ever have. Atticus was still trying to adjust to normal life as normal it could be. With living in a city full of supernatural creatures. Still the thought of it made him uneasy. Worrying for more people now than just himself. 

Atticus found himself at Aurelia’s art gallery looking through at the collection of his art paintings that Aurelia had kept. Trying to figure out what was there or what was lost. It still amazed him how she managed to track down and keep them. After so many decades. In a way he was looking back on his past.The good and then the bad. Some were personal to him. Ones that meant something to him. That he didn’t want others to see, some he never showed Aurelia. One that caught his eye was one he could remember so clearly. Pulling the painting from the stack, able to see it now in better light. The painting was much more faded, with the paper being more discoloured considering the age of painting. It was one that meant a lot to him. A painting of Cecilia one he had done back to when they were the happiest together. How he was able to capture all her beauty, features and expressions. Looking back on it now, he could see how she’s not aged or changed one day. Of course he knew she wouldn't interfere with how she was an immortal being, he could see how in the years spent apart she’d been through hell and back. One thing that Atticus knew was that she was a fighter. The painting brought back so many memories to him, the good and the bad. Still Atticus couldn’t help but wonder what if. Only if instead of searching Emilia he would have searched for Cecilia. She was his Volkari after all. Even now they were still bonded. Still connected. 

Now he was wondering whether to contact Cecilia, he knew she was here in the city. To try to track her down. Not knowing if she was trying to avoid him or not. Or if they’d been just missing each other. Atticus put the painting in a pile of the ones he wanted to keep to himself. To take back to the Celestial castle with him. Not wanting for Aurelia to put up his personal pieces up in the art gallery for everyone to see. Leaving the pile to pick up another day but he snuck back a small sketch drawing of Cecilia into his pocket. He soon left the art gallery heading back home to go and see Ophelia seeing if she needed him for his guardian help or what not. Wanting to feel that he was still needed at least if only for something little. Atticus decided to take a shortcut still figuring out the city and it’s routes. Finding himself heading down an alleyway he caught a group of rouge Valkyr’s having a feast from a poor human who was defenseless. “Hey! Leave her alone” Instinctly Atticus went to after Valkyr’s trying to help, defending himself to save the woman. Using Celestial energy as a way of attack, it took down a few of the Valkyr’s but not enough to take down all of them. He was outnumbered in a bad way. Atticus reached down thinking he had remembered to carry a gun around as source of weapon. Now to find he was in a bad luck not having it on him. The Celestial was trying to use his strength to fight of the group of rogues. Feeling countless blows to his stomach as he threw punches trying to take down some of them. Thinking he had managed to find them off, Atticus felt a shooting pain in his chest. A pain he remembers too well, looking up he saw a Valkyr with a dagger that he just pulled from his chest. Stabbing him. Atticus found himself crumbling on the floor in pain with his hand on his chest. Thinking that this was his fate again. History repeating itself. 

Atticus knew he didn’t have too long. This time around he wanted to use the Volkari bond to save him. Trying to make some form of contact with Cecilia knowing that she would be able to feel the pain and be able to track him down. The bond was much stronger now than before, in the same city as each other. Hoping that it wasn’t too late. “Cecilia, please help” Three words echoed out his mouth as he felt himself slipping out of conscious. On the brink of death once again. 

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Celia wouldn't lie and say she's forgotten him, because let's be real, she will never be able to forget him. Ever. The volakiri bond only gave further evidence that it's a string aligning the two of them together, that can never be severed no matter how much they try. They were connected for life and nothing will change that. Literally a ‘till death do us part’ thing. Only, Atticus actually died the first time and surprisingly, Celia only felt a part of her died and the bond still remained behind, though the Italian Valkyr wasn't sure if that was just her feeling sentimental about the bond or it never left. So many questions that needed answering and she wasn't even sure where to start. But with the celestial present in front of her now, things are likely to get better in time. At least she would have her answers, even if it was just a small portion. The last time she met him was at an exhibition, one she was sure he had an eye out for considering he was a fan of one, an artist himself. 

She didn’t know if this was just one of the many things that just really bothered her throughout her entire life. Perhaps she didn’t exactly rethink things through when she gave her consent to form a Volakiri bond with Atticus, 900 years ago. She should’ve thought more about it, the idea of basking in the happiness that they surrounded themselves with, was too infectious, so much it closed the door of seeing things rationally for Celia. It was a mistake she always regretted until today, and to dwell with such feelings for centuries, almost a millennium, it wasn’t easy. Thankfully she was able to find a way to work her way around it by busying herself and occupying her head with work, in general. Cecilia continued doing what she’s good at; healing people, hunting their own kind down and put a stop to the stent in their community globally. By doing the latter, it means that the silver-tongued female had a hand in incinerating them just as well, which doesn’t always sit well her, since she still wishes to save them, but how could she?

 So what she did was that she turned a blind eye and deaf ear to their whimpers and pleadings, knowing it to be nothing more than deceit and lies, before delivering the ultimate blow, securing a permanent residency in the afterlife for them. It reminded her of what she could become, no, what she did become, one time ago. Just because she couldn’t stop her blood drive that grew stronger each day. A pathetic excuse, really. She hated that she loved him. Of course she knew he found Emilia, she never stopped following him. She had to restrain herself most of the time and force herself back into rehabilitation, but never did she lose track of him until that one day where she spent her entire day in the room. The brunette just finished her shift at the hospital and was dreadfully tired, though she was positive she only needed coffee before she's back to her full strength hence why she's waiting for her coffee while leaning against the counter. The sight of blood doesn't make her nauseous anymore which is good. Even after 900 years, she never quite got over it but all the training did her good.

 As soon as she got her coffee in her hand, she exited the cafe and wanted to talk a walk around the park before returning to the hospital. At first she halted her steps because she felt as if someone just hit her chest but it wasn't enough for her stagger behind, she could take more than just a punch. It wasn't until she suddenly heard her name being called in her head, and all too familiar voice; Atticus. The word help caught her off guard and before late, Celia found herself taking off in a sprint to where he would be at. She thought her nose was deceiving her when she smelled fresh blood from the short-cut route to the park but she went ahead to inspect it because there has been plenty of rouge cases. What she found was not pleasant and all Cecilia could see was someone all too familiar crumbling on the ground with blood pooling on his chest and a valkyr with a dagger in his hand hovering above him.

 Her hand that was holding the coffee had tightened its grip around it as she stared at the group of valkyrs down with an unimpressed look, "I'm giving you 5 seconds to get the fuck out of here before I rip you to shreds." Technically putting down the rogues they can't control is what she does best all this time anyway. But to target her Volakiri of all people, that's just asking for a painful death.

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