Water over wine.

A deep feeling swelled in him as he watched Miraye, his arms still caught by another. Blood, like he'd never seen before, was dripping -- staining the white of her, changing her into something else. It sped his heart to see it spill, paining his senses with its animosity. It burned in the red of her eyes, and Tic could feel it, unable to stop the burn against his own. He would never understand the joy in it, never, in her changed and bloodied smile.

And then, death came. The man fell, that same look of it in the blank stare of the severed head. That same feeling washed over those who could feel its affliction, and Tic couldn't move. He stared, understanding and knowing well that death was just the same. No matter who its victim, reasoning, or cause. Death was still the same.

A rough jerk pulled at him, but he didn't look away. Through the running greys of fleeing figures, he continued to watch her. It didn't matter then that Matthias and Stelon had been there for him all along, or that the girl was capable of destroying anyone, even his captor. The hatred that poured from her wanted more than just one life, and Tic was suddenly unsure.

Was she really here to fulfill their promise?

"Don't," he suddenly whispered, as though she might hear him. He paused his struggle against the arms, looking to the girl with a fixed gaze. "Not this way.. "

Another yank brought him away from the ballroom, and out into a long corridor.