Eugenia Phillips: It's a rare thing for her to be at home these days for anything aside from sleeping and watching the occasional movie.  At the moment, she's putting the contents of her liquor cabinet in a box to take over to Gunther's later.  She can't drink it, but he could.

Jarod Freeman: Knock on the door.  No sound of a car.  No real warning he was at the door.  He's just there suddenly, and the knock sounds.  Dressed in his long coat over a silk crimsons dress shirt and black slacks, he runs a hand through his platinum hair, waiting for her to answer.  Calm.

Eugenia Phillips: The knock doesn't sound like Gunther's.  It's not loud and insistant like his knocks are.  Frowning thoughtfully, she heads for the door and peers through the peep hole.  By the time she opens the door, there's no way she can mask the surprise evident on her features.  "Helo, Jarod.  What a surprise.  Come on in, make yourself comfortable."  He'll notice that the house is a little..emptier feeling.  All of the sculptures she'd had decorating the place are gone now.

Jarod Freeman: "Hey."  He offers her a faint smile and slips into the house, looking around he frowns a little bit.  "You moving everything over to his place?"

Eugenia Phillips: She shakes her head.  "No.  I thought I could use the extra cash.  So, I've boxed up my sculptures and am selling them.  Did you get the one I sent you?"

Jarod Freeman: The frown deepens some at that.  "You need cash, I can get you some.  That's not a problem."

Eugenia Phillips: "I don't need your cash, Jarod."  She smiles lightly, shaking her head.  "I can do this on my own."

Jarod Freeman: "It's not about need," he says as he walks toward the basement, her workspace...opening it to look in there.  "It's about an offer to help, so you don't have to give away the things you loved for something as petty and meaningless as money."

Eugenia Phillips: She's been meaning to lock the basement door, but hasn't yet.  When he looks down into her workspace, he'll notice that it no longer looks like she actually works there.  In fact, as she's said, all of the sculptures and art down there are boxed, even all of her supplies.  It looks like a storage room now.  "The artworks are just things.."  She shrugs and just lets him wander through her home while she goes back to putting the liqour away.

Jarod Freeman: "Bullshit."  He shuts the door and moves into the kitchen.  "They're more then that, and you damn well know it."

Jarod Freeman: "And you know I know it, too, so let's stop lying about it, eh?"

Eugenia Phillips: Her spine stiffens briefly before she just relaxes, continuing to put the bottles away.  "People mean more than things."  She says softly while frowning a little.  The box is too small for all of the bottles.  "It's nice to see you, Jarod."

Jarod Freeman: A lean is taking against the entryway out of the kitchen.  "It's not just about the things.  Why aren't you doing it anymore?"

Eugenia Phillips: "I lost the drive and inspiration to do it.  I have been working a lot."  She shrugs and then moves past him to find another box so she can put the rest of the bottles away.  "Did you like your sculpture?"

Jarod Freeman: "God fucking dammit, Emariel."  He glares at her, blocking her way to leave and looking down at her with a hard gaze.  "Don't you remember what the fuck you are?"

Eugenia Phillips: His harsh words cause her to back up a couple of steps and she almost shrinks under the force of his anger.  She hates making people angry.  "Yes, I do, Melioth."\

Eugenia Phillips: [brb]

Jarod Freeman: "And what are you?"  For whatever reason, he doesn't back down when she backs up.  Not going to a forceful level of angry, just...hard.

Eugenia Phillips: The answer is simple when it comes past her lips.  "An abomination.  I am inhabiting a borrowed body, unable to take my true form.  I don't belong here."  This is what happens when she's allowed on her own too long.  She gets crazy ideas.

Jarod Freeman: He gapes at her.  Absolutely gapes.  Disbelieving.  Horrified.  Angry.  Tension rises up his body, passing through his spine and throughout his back, as he stares at her.

Eugenia Phillips: "If you will excuse me, I need to get another box."  She makes a move to go past him, unable to meet his gaze.

Jarod Freeman: "NO I WILL NOT."  It's said such, because as she starts to move, he's slid into his Apocalyptic Form, the body of Jarod sliding away, overlaid image of the creature known as Melioth remaining.  His voice has taken on that lyrical, intensely musical wuality, though maybe it's a bit deeper then before...the shadows in his eyes stronger.  He reaches an inhumanely perfect arm out to catch her chin and raise it to meet his gaze, which is unflinching, direct.  "Call me an abomination."

Eugenia Phillips: She holds his gaze.  "You are perfect, Melioth."  She is honest in that.  "You..you have figured out a way to reconcile yourself with this life."  She still loves him, that's clear, but there's a certain hollowness in her eyes, a certain emptiness.

Jarod Freeman: "I've done no such thing," he says, frowning without the telltale signs that mark a person as human...the crows feet, the other imperfections.  "I just recognize what I am.  And I know I have a purpose still on this earth besides being a target of abuse, vainly hoping my pain will make others feel better."

Eugenia Phillips: His words hurt more than anything else could and it's obvious in the way she pulls back from him, ashamed.  "And this is where you and I are different.  You know what you are..who you are..you know what you can do to help.  I am not so fortunate.  As you said, I don't seem to have much of a purpose.  I am sorry.  May I get the box now?"

Jarod Freeman: "THE HELL WITH THE BOX!!!"  He steps forward once more, hands coming to grip her shoulders.  Again, not hard...he's got presence of mind not to hurt her.  But firmly, so she has to really try to pull away.  "You're an INSPIRER, Emariel!  You're supposed to drive people to greatness, not enable them into their own fucking damnation!"

Eugenia Phillips: "He's doing better.  I've been trying hard to get him past the image he's had of himself.  He's really talented musically."  She does sound fond of her boyfriend.  "It's just...there's so much in my head.  I can't separate things any more.  I can't remember and I can't seem to..believe."  A hand rests on her abdomen briefly.

Jarod Freeman: He scowls.  He's heard these words before from people. 'He's getting better.  He's got potential.'  "I don't give a SHIT if he's talented.  He could be Ludwig von fucking Beethoven, for all I care!"  Telling sign.  The creator of song dismissing someone's musical talent.  That second pert, the part she directed toward herself, gives him pause.  Golden brows furrow, and he looks at her.  "You can't seem to believe what?"

Eugenia Phillips: "Believe in me.  Believe in our Creator's forgiveness."  Fingers lightly caress her belly as her thoughts seem to wander.

Jarod Freeman: He narrows his eyes.  "Are you honestly telling me...that a thousand eternities in the pits of the worst torment existance has ever known left you unwavered, but a few months in the body of a suicide has driven you to this??"

Eugenia Phillips: "I am having a hard time figuring out where Eugenia ends and Emariel begins.  At least in the Pit, I knew who I was.  I wasn't conflicted or anything.  At least there, I was Emariel.  Now, I'm torn and I can't.."  She sighs.  "And I'm tired of failing everyone.  I can't seem to make anyone happy any more.  Whatever I do ends up getting warped and twisted."

Jarod Freeman: "That's because you're only trying one way," he says, frowning and stepping back from her.  "Most people do something and it doesn't work, they try a new approach.  You stay the course, even when the course is leading you and everyone around you right back into Hell.  Find another way...or by Lucifer, I'll find another way for you."  He turns and makes his way for the door, still in his Apocalyptic Form.

Eugenia Phillips: Her gaze follows him, a hand lifting.  "I'm sorry I'm hurting you, Melioth.  I'd hoped..that by staying away..things could get better.  I just want you to be happy.  And Brigitte.  And everyone else."

Jarod Freeman: He stops, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as they tense.  He stands there for several moments, perfectly still, before he looks over his shoulder, at her.  "I don't quite want to know what you think of me, to think that you being in this state, defiled and destroyed, abused, shattered, and agonized, would make me happy."  He shakes his head.  "Or you think me blind."  He makes his way to the door again, Jarod's flesh replacing Melioth's spirit just before the door opens, then shuts behind him.