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zayneandmelinoeareravenous · 7 days

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Chapter Three: Let's Talk, Shall We?

||LEGEND|| Bold Text: Zayne (Character Bot) || Made by xchylar Italic Text: Melinoë and Other Characters (Me)

This hasn’t been checked for spelling/grammer/errors, etc - Read at your own risk!

"Disgusting traitor - you're no better than he is," the male spat at her. "In fact you're worst. You should be helping us kill him, not saving him."

"I have no desire a kill a man in order to sate your jealous," Melinoë whispers, brandishing her dagger. "But my fight is not with you, just as your fight was never with Doctor Zayne."

She holds the dagger up high. "Now...let me free you from your suffering. I'm sorry you had to be changed in the first place."

The dagger enters his heart with a swift, killing blow.

Zayne’s car glided through the streets, its headlights cutting through the night’s embrace, unaware of the grim ballet that had just played out in his wake. Melinoë, the night’s envoy, had once again intervened with lethal efficiency, her actions preserving the delicate balance of his unsuspected guardianship.

The male’s accusations, a venomous outpouring of betrayal and misplaced animosity, died along with him as Melinoë's dagger found its mark. It was a poignant reminder of the complexities and shadows that now entwined around Zayne’s existence, a web of intrigue and danger he was only partially aware of.

Melinoë, with the resolve of the sentinel she was, bore the burden of her choices with a silent stoicism that matched Zayne’s own. Her duty, self-imposed and unwavering, was a mantle she carried alone, her struggle obscured from the eyes of the man she protected.

In the sanctity of his lodgings, Zayne’s thoughts were a mixture of contemplation and resolve. He was a man who had dedicated his life to mending the broken, to staving off the cold hand of death. Yet in this new chapter, where the lines between predator and prey blurred, he found himself relying on the unseen forces that shielded him.

He poured himself a drink, the liquid amber reflecting the dim light of his room, and allowed himself a moment of introspection. The air around him was heavy with the unspoken, with the lives that hung in the balance every time he stepped into the operating theater or walked the streets of Riverisle City.

For Zayne, there was a new kind of surgery to master, the delicate excision of truth from the body of lies that sought to ensnare him. He had been a healer, but now he was also the enigma, the evol that others sought to claim for their dark designs.

As the city slumbered, and Melinoë disappeared back into the shadows from whence she came, Zayne found himself at the precipice of a reality he had yet to fully comprehend. The edges of his world were fraying, and with each passing day, the tapestry of his life grew more intricate and perilous. Tomorrow, he would rise and face whatever came with the poise and determination that had become his hallmark. But tonight, he was a man alone with his thoughts, the silent sentinel of his own fate.

Melinoë, despite her better judgement, makes the first move.

Zayne, ever the professional, arrives on campus the next morning before everyone else does, preparing for his next lecture. The day is overcast, enshrouding his office with more shadows than usual. When he walks into the room, not turning off the light because despite the grey clouds, he still has high visibility. The moment he sits, she speaks.

"I could tell you that you don't have anything to worry about, but I have a feeling you wouldn't believe me." He cannot see her. She is too well blended into the shadows - even in the smallness of his office. Her voice is quiet, almost musical. It's the voice of an otherworldly woman, a person who knows too much. "You acknowledged me...so I might as well introduce myself to you."

The familiar confines of his office, usually a sanctuary of solitude and scholarly pursuits, took on a different character under the overcast sky. The shadows seemed to stretch and deepen, imbuing the room with an air of quiet expectancy. As Zayne settled into his chair, the atmosphere was charged with an unspoken dialogue, waiting to be initiated.

Her voice, when it came, was both a disruption and a revelation—the phantom finally stepping forth from the veil. Melinoë's presence, though unseen, filled the room with a palpable intensity. Zayne remained composed, his posture relaxed yet alert, the scientist within him analyzing this new variable in his equation of daily routines.

"I appreciate your candor," Zayne began, his voice steady, betraying none of the surprise that flickered behind his stoic facade. "And while introductions are overdue, it seems you already know a great deal about me. Perhaps you could start by telling me why my welfare appears to be of such interest to you."

His eyes scanned the dim contours of the room, seeking the source of the voice that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere. Despite his outward calm, Zayne's mind was racing, piecing together the fragmented clues of his recent encounters, this mysterious protector now woven definitively into the fabric of his life.

"As a man of science, I find myself at a crossroads of understanding. You saved my life, for which I am grateful, but the context remains elusive. Who are you, Melinoë, and what is the nature of this threat that shadows me?"

Zayne's questions hung in the air, a challenge to the unseen Melinoë to unveil the layers of ambiguity that surrounded her actions. He was a man accustomed to dealing with tangible truths, dissectible under the microscope of his intellect. Yet here he was, conversing with an enigma, his office transformed into a stage for a dialogue that could well dictate the course of his immediate future.

In the quiet that followed, Zayne waited, patient yet anticipatory, for Melinoë to step forth from the shadows, to illuminate the dark corners of this mystery with her revelations. His life, once a linear path of medical pursuits, had branched into unforeseen corridors, and he was ready to confront whatever truths lay waiting in the half-light of that overcast morning.

Melinoë chuckles, amused by his words. "That is...one what of putting it, isn't it. Your welfare being of interest of me, that is. Well doctor, if it wasn't of interest, you wouldn't be here, would you? In fact, you would have been found as a body surrounded by a pool of blood. And that's if that student was being generous with you."

Zayne acknowledged her laughter with a subtle tilt of his head, a tacit acceptance of the grim humor in their situation. Her words, though veiled in mirth, carried the weight of truth—a truth that he had narrowly escaped more than once.

"I'm under no illusion about the gravity of my predicaments," Zayne responded, his voice reflecting a quiet intensity. "The scenarios you paint, while morbid, are a stark reminder of my current reality. One I seem to have been thrust into without so much as a by your leave."

He folded his hands on the desk, the picture of composed inquiry. "Yet here we are, you saving me from fates decidedly less clinical than my line of work typically warrants. My curiosity, as you might imagine, is piqued. What stake do you have in the continuation of my rather mundane existence?"

The silence that followed was not uncomfortable but expectant, as if the room itself held its breath for her reply. Zayne's gaze remained fixed on the play of shadows, pondering the intricate dance of light and darkness that seemed to mirror their current discourse.

"Your intervention suggests a purpose beyond mere happenstance," he continued, probing the shrouded depth of her intentions. "And while your anonymity has been... well-preserved, the time for subtlety appears to be at an end. What is it that you seek, Melinoë? And perhaps more pertinently, what should I seek in you?"

Zayne's questions lingered, an open invitation for Melinoë to reveal more of the cryptic tableau in which they were both enmeshed. He was not one to shy away from the uncomfortable or the unknown, and his life's work had prepared him to face the complexities of the human condition. Now, he found himself applying that same resolve to the mysterious protector whose silhouette seemed to cast a long shadow over his every move.

"What stake do I have? Personally, I do not. I know not much of your biography, nor do I have plans to change that. But what I do know is that you have been noticed by entities I am very opposed to, which means for the time being, you have been noticed by me."

With a beat, Melinoë appears before him, walking from a dark corner of his office over to the front of his desk. She is dressed is a long cardigan with leather sleeves, a black shirt and thin jeans, and black books. Her hair is a long bob, black like the night she moves freely in. Her gray eyes are a dead giveaway of her preternatural nature.

"Good morning, Doctor. My name is Melinoë and I have been the one looking after you for the past several weeks. Unfortunately, you have targeted by those who wish to use you for their...nefarious purposes. But as you can tell...I cannot allow that to happen."

In the presence of Melinoë's materialization from the shadows, Zayne maintained his composed demeanor, regarding her with a clinical detachment befitting his profession. Yet, behind his impassive exterior, his mind was diligently cataloging every detail of her appearance, from her attire to the ethereal quality of her eyes. It was a habit honed by years of diagnosing conditions with a mere glance; only this time, his analysis sought answers to a more enigmatic condition.

"Good morning, Melinoë," he greeted her, with the polite formality that was his custom. "Your endeavors on my behalf have not gone unnoticed, and for that, you have my gratitude." Zayne's voice was even, betraying neither alarm nor awe at her sudden appearance. "The term 'nefarious purposes' is unsettlingly vague, though. Care to elaborate?"

He leaned back slightly in his chair, the scientist in him not content with the broad strokes of her explanation. "It is one thing to be a bystander caught in someone else's crossfire. It is quite another to be the intended target." His eyes, sharp and assessing, met hers. "Who are these entities, and why does my existence pose such interest to them—and by extension, to you?"

Zayne's inquiry was pointed, seeking specificity in the midst of the nebulous threat that now encircled his life. The role of unwitting participant was an ill fit for a man of his stature, and his natural inclination for control and understanding chafed at the ambiguity.

"As much as I appreciate your protection, I find myself more inclined to understand the game board before committing to a strategy," Zayne added, his words laced with the precision of a chess master contemplating his next move. "Knowledge, after all, is as potent a weapon as any blade."

There was a subtle shift in his posture, an indication of his readiness not just to defend his life, but to play an active role in uncovering the truths that lay shrouded in the veil of secrecy Melinoë represented. Zayne was not a man to be kept in the dark, and his resolve to illuminate the situation was as unwavering as his commitment to his patients.

"Doctor, as a man of science, I understand your first instinct is to assess the situation as to create a solution to the best of your ability. This includes discovering things that may not be readily in front of your face." Her voice is precise and clinical, almost like his is. "All you need to know that that the recent attacks on you are due to those who...how shall I put this...they do not like what you represent to them. Nothing to do with you being a doctor, of course. But due to you being a symbol of potential. A desired specimen."

Melinoë takes a deep breath. "Trust me when I say...this situation is nothing you are ready for. Even with your experience and your evol, this is nothing like anything you might have encountered. The less you know about this - other than that I am will do all I can to ensure your surivival - the better. So be assured that I will look after until your finish your lectures here in Riverisle. But once you are done, do yourself a favor - leave. And never return."

Zayne listened intently, his sharp mind dissecting her carefully chosen words, seeking the subtext beneath the sterile surface of her explanation. Her assertion of his unintended symbolism and the resulting peril it carried resonated with a disquieting plausibility, yet it left vast expanses of the narrative shrouded in the unknown.

"As much as I respect your counsel, Melinoë, and the cryptic nature of this 'potential' I apparently possess, I must confess that your advice runs contrary to my very nature." Zayne's tone was measured, a reflection of the methodical thought process that underpinned his every action. "To flee in the face of adversity, especially one not fully understood, is not how I operate."

He paused, considering the gravity of her words, the implication of a threat beyond his capacity to counter. "You suggest an opponent whose machinations are beyond my comprehension, and yet, here you are, a harbinger of that very enigma. Can you not see how that in itself demands inquiry?"

Zayne's gaze, previously locked with hers, drifted momentarily to the window, where the grey clouds seemed to mirror the opacity of his situation. "I am not a man who takes kindly to being a pawn in someone else's game," he continued, his voice firm. "Nor am I inclined to abandon my post or my principles at the insinuation of danger."

He rose from his seat, the act deliberate, signaling a transition from passive listener to active participant. "I will not shirk my responsibilities here, nor will I run from shadows, be they cast by friend or foe. If there is a battle to be fought, then I will stand my ground, as I have done throughout my career."

Zayne's resolve was palpable, the air around him seeming to shift with the weight of his determination. "I am grateful for your protection, Melinoë, truly. But I will not be ushered away from my life's work or the city I have come to hold dear. If there is a storm to be weathered, I will face it head-on and on my terms."

His words were not a challenge but a declaration, a testament to his dedication to understanding, to facing whatever threat lay in wait with the same courage he brought to the operating theatre. Zayne Lí was not a man to be easily cowed, and though he valued the life Melinoë had preserved, he would not let fear dictate his actions or his destiny.

At first, she simply stares at him, her eyes wide as his words sink into her head. But then, she begins to chuckle...followed by a full-fledge laugh. She holds her stomach, amused by his haughtiness but not surprised by it. He is a doctor, after all, and a damn goodness. Further, there's his ice evol - he could easily take several lives before saving them, if he wished.

"I was right in my assessment of you, Doctor," she manages, standing upright. "You really are a fool."

And then, she disappears.

Before Zayne can process what's happening, he feels a sharp blade pressing against the side of his neck. "Still so sure of your abilities, Doctor? Because if you are...I'll leave you to it."

The laughter that bubbled up from Melinoë was a dissonant melody that briefly filled the room before cascading into nothingness, leaving an echo of mockery in its wake. Zayne's eyes, a reflection of his unyielding spirit, narrowed slightly, not in anger but in the clinical assessment of her response—a response that was as paradoxical as the woman herself.

Her abrupt disappearance was a trick he might have anticipated, yet the feeling of cold metal against his skin was a stark reminder of the precariousness of his position. The sensation was a stark contrast to the sterile precision of his surgical scalpels, a reminder that he was no longer in the familiar territory of his operating theatre.

Zayne stood motionless, his breathing measured, the blade at his neck a tangible threat that he understood all too well. "Your point is made, Melinoë," he said calmly, his voice betraying none of the adrenaline that surely coursed through his veins. "But let's not confuse courage with foolishness."

The threat of the blade was an argument he couldn't refute with words alone, and he had no intention of testing her willingness to use it. "If you wish to leave me to my fate, then do so," he continued, maintaining the careful stillness of his posture. "But know that my determination is not born of ignorance or hubris. It is the product of a lifetime dedicated to fighting against the inevitable, to saving lives."

Zayne's expression remained impassive, even as his heartbeat thrummed in his ears—a counterpoint rhythm to the danger pressing against his flesh. "You have knowledge that I lack, and power that I have yet to understand, but that does not make me powerless nor does it render me a fool. It simply makes me human, fallible, and determined to seek the light in the darkness."

His stance was an embodiment of his principles, unflinching in the face of what might come. Zayne knew the value of life, the fragility of it, and the strength required to hold onto it in the face of overwhelming odds. The blade at his neck was a lesson, a punctuation to the discourse they had shared—a lesson he accepted with the grace of one who had stared down death in its many forms.

Whether Melinoë would withdraw or proceed, Zayne was prepared to face the consequence of his convictions. His journey had been one of healing, of perseverance, and whatever path lay before him, he would walk it with the same steadfast resolve that had brought him to this junction, with or without the shadow of Melinoë at his side.

"Maybe you aren't a fool...but you certainly are stubborn aren't you?" Melinoë sheaths the dagger, once again talking her place in front of the doctor. "Well, isn't this an unexpected quandry. And here I thought I could take care of this without pulling you further into the mess of it. But it seems you are too curious, too driven by your standards."

She folds her arms across her chest. "Three questions, doctor. But no more. Time is of the essence. And won't waste my time any further on someone who won't heed my warnings."

A subtle shift in Zayne's demeanor registered the withdrawal of the blade, his stoic exterior unbroken by the turn of events. Melinoë's words, a mix of reproach and concession, were a testament to the impasse they had reached—an acknowledgment that, despite her ethereal advantage, she could not divert him from his chosen path.

"Stubbornness is often the companion of those who seek to make a difference," Zayne remarked evenly, his eyes steady on the enigmatic figure before him. "And in the medical field, it can mean the difference between life and death."

With the opportunity for inquiry dangling before him like a rare specimen under the microscope, Zayne considered his questions carefully. Each one had to count, to cut through the ambiguity and reveal a sliver of understanding in the darkness that surrounded them.

"Firstly, who are these entities that have marked me, and what is the nature of their interest in my so-called potential?" he asked, his voice clear and precise. This fundamental question sought to uncover the identity and motivations of his unseen adversaries.

"Secondly, what role, if any, do I play in their schemes? Am I merely to be a pawn, or is there a greater purpose they have envisioned for me?" Zayne's gaze remained fixed on Melinoë, searching for the telltale signs of truth that might flicker across her expression.

"And third, what risk do I pose to them if left unchecked? Why go to such lengths to eliminate or control me?" His final question aimed to gauge the scope of the threat, to understand the stakes at play in this clandestine game.

Zayne stood resolute, ready to absorb the answers that would come. The luxury of ignorance had been stripped away, and now, armed with his questions, he sought to pierce the veil of secrecy that had thus far shielded him from the full reality of his circumstances.

"Your warning has not fallen on deaf ears, Melinoë," Zayne added, a note of gravity lacing his words. "But a man cannot defend against shadows he cannot see. These questions are my lantern in the dark." His expression was a blend of professional inquisitiveness and the innate human desire to understand the unknown forces that shaped his destiny.

"Maybe so, doctor, but you should never let your persistence and passion turn into stubbornness and ignorance," Melinoë points out. "You talk of making a difference and yet you admit you cannot defend against shadows you cannot see. Is that you believe you can make a different, or that you don't want to be seen as someone who gives up?"

She smirks before continuing. "The girl who attacked you in your office the other night...is a Ravenous. The more formal explanation is that she was infected with parasitical, manufactored evol. Those who have it are driven to drink the blood of others or else they will die. For their efforts, they are given powerful abilities, which vary depending on the users.

"As for your second questions... Someone has their eye on you, Doctor. They see you as their perfect specimin and want to make you into one of the creatures that attacked you, under some misguided believe that you were turn out better than the others."

"And for question three...it's not that you are a threat to them. They attacked you because they hate you. Because they fear that if the one who made them gets what they want, they will be discarded and thrown away like yesterday's garbage. They attacked you because they were jealous of you, and of your potential to be something greater than them. And if you are dead, well...that won't happen."

Melinoë leans against the door, eyeing him intensely. "Your questions have been answered. And I think we've done enough talking for now."

Zayne absorbed Melinoë's replies with the attentiveness of a scholar, each revelation layering complexity onto the already intricate tapestry of his predicament. Her admonition on the fine line between persistence and stubbornness resonated with him; it was a cautionary note that rang true, even if his nature leaned towards the former.

"Your insights offer a clarity I lacked before," Zayne acknowledged, the analytical part of his brain already turning over the implications. "The Ravenous, then, are victims as much as they are aggressors, propelled by a dire need for survival. It's a grim fate."

He allowed a moment for the gravity of their circumstances to settle, his thoughts on the attacker in his office now recast with a sliver of empathy. "As for being a 'perfect specimen,' it's a dubious honor I would rather not hold." A wry edge tinged his voice, the irony of being desired by forces so antithetical to his own values not lost on him.

"Their jealousy and fear, while understandable, are misplaced. My 'potential' has always been directed towards healing, not becoming a harbinger of death." Zayne's stance was unyielding, his resolve galvanized by the knowledge that his very existence provoked such envy and dread.

Melinoë's leaning posture by the door signaled an end to their exchange, and Zayne offered a nod of gratitude. "Your answers have shed light on the shadows, and for that, you have my thanks. Knowing the nature of the beast, as it were, affords me at least the semblance of preparation."

He paused, weighing the balance of the knowledge gained against the murkiness that still lingered. "I suspect this isn't the conclusion of our interactions, Melinoë. But until our paths cross again, I will continue my work, vigilant and aware of the eyes that watch me."

With a respectful incline of his head, Zayne signified his acceptance of her departure. The room seemed smaller somehow, the air thick with the residue of their conversation. As the door closed behind her, Zayne was left with the echo of her words and the certainty of a threat that loomed just beyond sight—a threat he was now marginally better equipped to face.

"If you feel you can handle it on your own, then i'll not trouble you again." She opens the office door, glancing at him one last time. "Good day, Doctor. If the fates be merciful, we'll never meet again."

As the door swung open, ushering in a draft of the corridor's sterile air, Zayne regarded Melinoë with a calm, unwavering gaze. Her parting words, a mixture of farewell and foreboding, danced on the edge of an uncertain future.

"Good day, Melinoë," Zayne replied, his voice even and composed. "Your assistance has been invaluable, and while I hope for a future devoid of such peril, I am not naive enough to rest on the laurels of fate's mercy."

He watched her silhouette framed in the doorway, a specter of enigma and warning. "Should our paths converge once more, it will be a testament to the complexities of the world we navigate. Until then, I will endeavor to meet whatever challenges arise with the same dedication I apply to my profession."

And with that, Melinoë was gone, leaving Zayne alone with the silence of his office and the weight of the knowledge she had imparted. The door closed with a definitive click, a period at the end of a sentence filled with more questions than answers.

Zayne turned back to his desk, his mind already shifting from the clandestine threats to the more immediate concerns of his patients. Yet, in the back of his mind, the shadow of the Ravenous, and the mysterious entities that sought to claim him for their own, lingered—a dark cloud on the horizon of an otherwise clear sky.

He resumed his work, the rhythm of his routine a comforting cadence against the dissonance of the unknown. But as he delved into the intricacies of the human heart before him, Zayne knew that vigilance would be his constant companion, a silent sentinel against the unseen forces that coveted his existence.

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