This only contains information about twelve out of the remaining sixteen left to story telling. This is a current story being written. It is a mess .. but it can be understood if you take the time.

One immortal? HA! Try twelve minus one ( with actually sixteen Nightmares in creation ). The air would?ve got to the point of intoxicating in a good way; a way that one would feel joy and happiness. It was the collective spirits of the other Nightmares. Who knew, obviously they didn?t stay in places that smelt like a slaughter house unlike Ris`ika. Earthy scents mingled with those of very old flowers, along with cinnamon, basil and wheat. Those of rose oil, rosemary and carrion. The scents collided with one another but somehow managed to pull apart from one another while the other rose against the slight breeze coming from the Northwest. All eleven were shadows at the moment as the shapes were not classified. They could?ve been monsters for all who were paying attention, though syllables of Italian, Russian, Latin, Greek and Spanish came from those shadow-like creatures.

Two figures shook off the cloak of darkness. There was no need for the shadow protection, which in result caused three more to show themselves. The first two were identical to the legend of Adam and Eve. Both wore hardly anything -- but hunger was present in their eyes. Hunger for something other then bloodshed. Oh, no. These two never touched any living or undead person with the need to shred away skin. The blonde hair gave an impression that they were siblings ( or at least related ) as both curved within one another. Skin was a white as snow, even though with the slightest show of being sun kissed. They seemed neutral in every sense of the word.

Three men were next with the shedding of the shadows. Brothers -- but by heart and by destiny only. While two had light colored skin, the third had skin the color of midnight. It was un natural but it was what he was born with. The other two; milky white and golden brown. Yes, odd but still there as eyes of gold showed on the midnight black. Sky blue with the golden brown, and lavender belonged to the milky white figure. Shadow creatures out of habit -- without their skills, none of the following would?ve been able to make that journey without the Nightmare of Mirrors as a scent to led them.

The next, a woman sitting down in the middle. It seemed like she was floating ( which was exactly what she was doing ) as her legs -- Indian style. Her hair was the same color as The Nightmare of Mirrors, as eyes were a dark lilac. Her lips were sin-stained with blood, though it was not intentional. Scars marked her arms as her right hand held the silver pendent hanging from her neck. A cross.

Next : A golden beauty which was obviously from the old days of Humanity. The golden hair ran down in ringlets of curls as the green eyes pierced anything that she seemed to look at, though unlike the natural color of the inner iris being black -- It was indeed a hazy grey. Think of the Greek Goddess of the Sea with the hair covering the most intimate of places as her eyes peered over the sea to the left corner of the picture. White-like robes were on this woman, as the color of purple also came across the human eye. Welcome back to Greece again with those natural cheekbones and the Greek features. Strong but at the same time, oh so very feminine.

Five as a group were conversing in languages from the Roman period. Different distinct languages but it seemed like all five understood exactly what the other was saying. A man who seemed to be a picture perfect match to those men and women who lived amongst the fifteenth century as brown locks of hair ran in ringlets down his back while a white shirt covered his chest. Ruffles at the wrists as it was tucked in very nicely into a pair of black slacks -- and complete with black boots. Yes! The same boots that came to cover the shins and fold over. A woman, who from appearances was exactly what she was. This was a bit scary looking like the Nightmare of Mirrors as her face was in pieces. Literally. Chunks of flesh were missing from her skull -- as her hair came across by tiny strands. Her eyes were lost amongst the conversation as her head never moved. Her hands were in the same condition as her face -- but one could tell that she was once very beautiful. A horrible death, but she was known among the people in Hoodoo and Voodoo religions and cultures as being one of the highest priestesses. Obviously magical and dangerous all at the same time as she had traces of black and red dust on her naked body. Yes, she was naked -- for the mere fact that she believed in her time -- that if a person was stripped of every piece of clothing, that the Gods above ( and below ) would give more energy back. She was right. The third would be a bit tricky to see. See, translucency was a blessing. All that could be seen was a baseball being thrown and caught by something unseen. Though, every few seconds, there would be a sight of the male presence. His face, incredible hansom, shown Spaniard descent. If one had a glimpse of the eyes, a chocolate brown with specks of honeydew coloring here and there.

The last was not in human form. Instead, a creature shown in the hieroglyphics of Egypt was standing tall and very still in the back. Shadows slowly cracked and fell into the shadow like ground as true colors were finally realized. Bright greens, purples, golds and blacks were apart of this creature. With a head of the mighty hawk, and the body of a woman and man ( with the muscle definition ). The tail of the cat and with the grace of the swan -- it seemed like the form was something indeed of the Nightmares of those who dreamt of Egyptian Gods and Goddesses. Though, the creature was always changing the head -- hawk to falcon back to hawk, and sometimes became that of a raven. Metamorphous was fun.

The one who spoke was none other the woman who had taken the Nightmare of Mirrors place when everything went to shit. Her eyes focused on the group before she unfolded her legs, finally touching the ground. Her feet were bare as she walked with elegance and grace -- just like the others. Her eyes immediately went to Crimson as those sin-stained lips spread to reveal the smirk identical to Ris`ika?s. ( Think about it, these two could be twins. They look identical. ) Her clothing? That was simple. A black dress that had slits showing far too much flesh. Who cared, right? Nightmares were forever living creatures -- and most of them had adapted to the century change -- UNLIKE .. Six.

? Do not worry. We?re not here because we need something to tear into. We?re simply here in place of our sister until she is able to create herself again. Her heart calls out for help and so did her mind.? She paused for a moment as she raised a hand to point to her own head as she shrugged. Her vocal cords were that of Romanian accents and Sicilian. Who knew how she was able to create both -- a practiced art? Her eyes remained on Crimson as the others began to take notice of the others present before Illyria spoke again. ? You?re her heart -- her family in this realm is also her heart, even those who were just introduced. Unlike your precious Ris`ika, Crimson -- we?re not as .. How would you like to hear this .. Shattered. Question is this : Why has she called out for us as well as her family here. ?

It was a simple question which had gotten the attention of the others as all eyes were now directed on Crimson. But not the translucent one. Oh, he was around -- close by the other group, smelling scents and almost giving death warrants if needed. The Egyptian finally zeroed in on who Illyria?s talking partner, as her voice gave out a hissing sound as it spoke. It seemed like all the Egyptian Gods and Goddess spoke from this one. That was exactly what it was. Those hues of gold, black, green and the same haze from the Greek Goddess remained untouched.

? You are the one who corrupts our sister, you all are. She holds on to her human emotions and she never learns from her past that it is a funny thing. You humans -- the ones with souls and hearts call out to the Gods and Goddesses for help, but once you receive it, you never return the calling. ? Those eyes searched for the one who had called out for the Nightmare before shit hit the fan. ? Who is the one that summoned. Who is the one who called out for the Mirrored heart -- always reflecting and deflecting emotions like a sundial reflecting the help from the moon in time of need.?

There was a twelfth shadow. It hid near the outer reaches of the unseen portal ( which all of the ones before had used. It was a secret amongst the party of Nightmares -- and unseen to any given eye. Though, it was all due to the Brothers. ) Her body slinked slowly as she clawed the shadows from her body. It was a girl no older than ten, as her arms finally reached for the skyward heavens. Her little feet took her next to the Egyptian -- and looking at the two, one could already tell that the girl had been a much younger version of the Goddess/God like creature. Her hands moved towards the party in front of them as she flashed a quick smile before giggling. ? May I play with them? ?

? No, Butterfly. ? It was almost like the entire conversation had been forgotten with the ( mortals ) to them, as Illyria glanced towards the little one. Her eyes were hard but full of light, which was funny for the Nightmare of Decay. Her eyes returned towards the family party in front of her before returning towards Crimson.

? I apologize before hand. Though, Butterfly would not harm anyone who does not mean her harm -- or who has the heart of purity. Tell me something, Crimson -- why have you honestly allowed your heart to call out to us. Not to us as a whole, but towards our sister Nightmare. Could it be that you still have love for her even though she?s something new and something very old all at the same time. Or could it be that you still see her as the same woman you once -- Or, excuse me; but still love. And please, do not worry so much. Your Mirrored Heart will return to the woman everyone once knew before the Ministry got in the way of things. ? Oh, could it be time for the explanation on how Nightmares were created. Oh, story time, yes?


Crimson knew that all eyes were on him, he could feel them. He never once looked up to view them, to look upon any one of their figures or any of the surroundings around him. No those eyes of blood were locked on the ground in front of him in that hazed fog. He could see her in that desolate place, picking up the pieces from the shatter. There came those dark tones as he watched, never giving his eyes the relief of blinking. "If you believe that hearts and souls, emotions are limited to the human race.." he trailed, chuckling.

Corruption, is it? He bit his lip, jaw tensing. "Ariana is the one who called Ris`ika. She's not here. A sister to me; I'm sure you know the sentiment." There it was, finally a break of his gaze from the darkness of his solitude. The call of the girl drew those blood stained irises to jerk over his shoulder. A single breath out, almost a chuckle. Through it all; he could still see those images of Ris`ika flashing in his head.

"I'm not expecting you to understand much of it between your sister and I." There he drew himself away from their images, closing his eyes. He'd said it before; but had he said it to someone that was connected to her as all of these were? No. There was a warmth that shot through him, "I'll always love Ris`ika.. I love who she was, I love who she has become and I'll love whomever she changes into. I won't deny that.." He knew admitting that here, was as close to telling her those words straight to her face as he could get at this moment in time.

He swallowed and let that tinge of a smile cross his features, despite the flash of two translucent images. Ris`ika's agonied screams, and.. that gun's destruction. That second flash of images faded as soon as they had came, leaving him to watch the flesh and bone, the veins and muscles pulling together. He heard the screams when they came, and they shredded him. The pain wrote itself across him like a pen to paper. Moisture crept to the corners of those dark eyes, spilling down across his cheeks. "You can call it corruption all you want, but that won't change what it really is.. and it's far from a taint."

"If you knew what it was like to feel again, you might grasp the concept of it. Seems even a Nightmare is capable.. if what you say is true." There was a slow intake of air pulled in as he opened those eyes to finally take a peer at the one whom had been speaking to him from the beginning of this conversation. He watched her intently with narrowed eyes at the mention of the Ministry. "The... Ministry?" That was the only question he felt that he needed to pose, to push that story time button.

Those eyes never left Crimson; all of them continued to peer at the man as he answered their questions. Though, the Nightmare of Decay seemed almost satisfied to hear those words. Her lips pulled in a small smirk before those eyes had reflected what was now going on through the Nightmare of Mirrors? mind. All those images came clear -- before they transferred to the Greek Goddess woman. Those hazy filled orbs seemed like an oracle showing what was past, present but never showed the future. It wasn?t her forte.
Illyria shook her head as she replied softly, ? Believe it or not, Nightmares rarely hold the truth back. Unless you?re talking to the Brothers or any other male Nightmare. They would rather spit on a Bible then commit to the truth. Although, Ris`ika does have a inner demon inside of her, which is not the Nightmare part of her, but is the past that she refuses to let go. Ris`ika is strong in spirit to the things that she loves most -- which would be you and the children that you share. Her mind was so conflicted when she came to the point of summon that your precious Ris`ika refused to think straight. It was all the information received at the time -- and also the fear of loosing you. Ris`ika?s fear is not only to continue to love and always share, reflect and return love -- but also to lose it in the process. She realized that on that fateful day that she shot the gun into your heart.? Illyria seemed to know a lot of what was going on, but that was the whole point of being a family in which all of the members shared the same details when one went through a mortals pain. Her eyes flickered softly before she whispered towards the Goddess. The images had disappeared from those haze filled hues before returning to that normal darkness.

? As far as the Ministry goes, I suppose you do need a background. The Ministry consists of four key players. Two men; two women who have the control over certain personalities in time, the dark arts, releasing inner demons of other victims into new ones -- ect. Let?s just say they put the boogiemen in all persons they encounter and not in a good way. I?m sure you?ve heard about the Lazarus Corporation in Archangel, Russia -- though the exact location is not Archangel, but a forbidden and hidden city -- lost to the sands of time, or in Russia?s case -- in the snow fall. Lazarus was where your Russian lost her innocence as being a human; mortal. Her life was stolen from her by the Nightmare of Heartache -- who thankfully is not here. The Nightmare of Heartache is named Poe, and his brothers, well. They are the ones who ran Lazarus for their grandfather. We all had horrors in that place -- all had certain extremes that we do not want to relive, but Ris`ika -- her screams can still be heard in the area surrounding that ancient city.

? The Ministry took a hold of the Nightmares who survived the fire after being imprisoned in a way that was deemed un natural. It was almost like the concentration camps of the Wars. Though, we had our freedoms -- we just could never leave. Ris`ika seemed to be a favorite of the Ministry. They spent hours not only conducting experiments that seemed too advanced for that day and age -- but also the darkest of human behaviors. The Ministry conducted so many experiments on all of us that it has been engraved in our memories -- but we, unlike Ris`ika, have managed to push it aside.

? But when she met you, she was the timid Russian. The one who peek in but never really walked in on a situation. She was kind -- even though the horror she endured. The Ministry always managed to keep tabs on all of us -- and eventually began the scientific count down implanted in us. One by one -- we became monsters. The first century of it -- we were unstoppable. The Reapers. The Devils who walked in the daylight, and who walked off of the dawn. The angels of death. We all learned from similar experiences that was not the genetic material imbedded in us. We weren?t made for destruction or death -- but for balance between the inner demons inside of us and the inner demons imbedded in our genetic make-up. ? Illyria finally smiled. That smile set her apart from Ris`ika entirely.

? The Ministry is cruel, brutal and entirely Hell on Earth. They haven?t been seen or heard from in eight decades -- but they still whisper from the shadows. They crawl inside the dreams of others -- and they are the ones who are always reforming the Nightmares. Who turn the switches and who complicate even the most delicate of human behavior; love. We are not able to love others rather then our own mainly because we never received that chance, but Ris`ika was partly human before they reached her. Her inner demon is fighting for that Humanity that she still grasps. The Ministry are the puppet masters to the Russian in who you still love -- though, they are beginning to loose control over it. The strings are slowly unraveling and when that happens -- you can bet your life that this battle that you are now preparing for will not be the toughest.

? But if you do indeed need our help, and the help of our powers -- we will be in debt. Not for you but for the life that our sister still holds onto. You need to understand that this has nothing to do with the fact that we?re soft. It has to do with the life that our sister still holds. It has to do with the love that she has for everyone who is endanger -- and for the love of the world that she once knew. There are six of us who would love nothing more then to harm the one that your heart chases -- and captured in its heartstrings, but there are the ones standing in front of you who would love nothing more then to see our sister happy in the end. Of course, we always frown upon her actions with the mortal lives -- and the mortal life that she had before, but we can not stop what the heart longs for. .. We will not allow it. ?

Was there an inner war between the Nightmares? You bet your ass. Those in front of Crimson could have been summed up as being the good ones. The others were just pure demons who wanted nothing more then to destroy. Butterfly moved towards Crimson as she canted her little head. Illyria stepped forward as the child poked Crimson?s side then looked towards Illyria.

? Can I have fun with the ones who want to hurt Missa?s family? ?

Glad I have your approval. Silence encompassed the downed Cherub who sat on his knees in the sand and snow. Every word that had been spoken to enlighten him was considered and thought on, as he shook there. Would the battles ever end? One after the other, war would continue no matter what the cost. It was a sickened thought of utter truth. The real question was this: Would he fight? Yes.

Whether it was the current threat whom was showering his impending doom across the land, or the whispers in the shadow that tempted to twist their strings, and control their puppets. Becoming lost in the sea of his own thoughts as 'story time' continued, he sucked in a breath of that air around them. Crimson had completely expected the grapevine called family would end in those members knowing a great deal about the pasts and present of their own.

Not a single word escaped him, his focus being rather content to listen to Illyria as she shared a great many pieces of information, just a few more shapes for the puzzle. The Big Picture. Everyone and everything played a role much bigger than they believed themselves to be, no matter if it was the will of a God; or the plans of Fate. There was inhale of air as those lined eyes opened, looking at the little child who was making her way over toward him. The poke to his side had him gazing on the girl with a curious intent, a tainted tinge of a smile curling at his lips. "Yes you can," he whispered.

There that attention lifted from Butterfly to Illyria. There was a cant of his head, a tilting that had him observing her diagonally. "We need the help.. all the aid that's possible -- humanly or otherwise. Please... just don't underestimate this threat." Could this one put an end to everything? Yes -- and he wasn't going to allow that. How could he? He was shifting to stand, feeling that there were a many places that he needed to be all at once. He wanted to forsake it all and find Ris`ika in her agony of reconstruction -- if only to provide some semblance of comfort through her pain. Would he seek her out? Yes.

--- Crimson's character belongs to Shawn.