04-25-2016, 11:14 AM
Cruz was sick. And not just any sick. Dorian was thankful Ana was off finishing her packing to return here and live with them. It had surprised him more than anything that she wanted to but Cruz was her son and where he went she was bound to follow. But now her life was in even more danger than just him being an officer of the law or Atharim. Now the Atharim could come and hunt them all down.
Dorian paced in his living room back and froth between the door to the hideous dinning room to the library just beyond which only redeeming quality was the countless shelves that could hid the hideous wallpaper beneath. He hoped Ana would redecorate soon. It was trying his patience the horrible atmosphere of his home.
Cruz would die if he couldn't figure out how to get his son help. He needed to live, Dorian couldn't even begin to think of a life without his son. To bury him for something that he had no control over. Even the WHO had no idea what caused the mutation, or whatever it was that allowed a perfectly normal child to suddenly burst with the ability to use the power of the gods.
Reborn gods were all around now. They survived somehow. Dorian had to find out how that was. But his resources were limited it's not like he'd ever helped one of them before. It had always been his job to hunt them and kill them. They were always sick and dying children on their death beds, only once having had them ever fight back. Dorian didn't which either death on his son.
His hands raked through his hair and he didn't care if it didn't fall back properly on his head. If he could only find a survivor and....
Dorian picked up his cell phone that he used for his job, not the Atharim one that was not his property technically. He had just found a survivor - two of them actually, but he only knew one personally...
Dorian prayed as he dialed the phone and waited for Ivan to pick up.
Dorian paced in his living room back and froth between the door to the hideous dinning room to the library just beyond which only redeeming quality was the countless shelves that could hid the hideous wallpaper beneath. He hoped Ana would redecorate soon. It was trying his patience the horrible atmosphere of his home.
Cruz would die if he couldn't figure out how to get his son help. He needed to live, Dorian couldn't even begin to think of a life without his son. To bury him for something that he had no control over. Even the WHO had no idea what caused the mutation, or whatever it was that allowed a perfectly normal child to suddenly burst with the ability to use the power of the gods.
Reborn gods were all around now. They survived somehow. Dorian had to find out how that was. But his resources were limited it's not like he'd ever helped one of them before. It had always been his job to hunt them and kill them. They were always sick and dying children on their death beds, only once having had them ever fight back. Dorian didn't which either death on his son.
His hands raked through his hair and he didn't care if it didn't fall back properly on his head. If he could only find a survivor and....
Dorian picked up his cell phone that he used for his job, not the Atharim one that was not his property technically. He had just found a survivor - two of them actually, but he only knew one personally...
Dorian prayed as he dialed the phone and waited for Ivan to pick up.