So much in her life had changed, and yet so much was the same as she laid here in her sidi den alone. A place she felt comfort in she supposed. What her life was like prior by being taken by Cifarelli, before she could remember anything. There was some kind of similarity unfortunately.

The moon was high in the deep hours of the night as she slept peacefully inside her den, despite what life was like for her these days. She wouldn't really know any better per se, but she wasn't exactly sure if this was what she wanted. It didn't really feel right. There was a natural instinct of freedom and not just to be pulled to use. The drive to run outside the borders and far away from here was deep in her core, but it was like the vision was far out of reach. She was running in such a slow speed, she was getting no where. The drugs Azrael had injected in her making it unreal, behind a haze of what she truly saw in front of her. She was one step behind.

Middle of the night she was woken up by an instant piercing inside her head. She took a deep breath but her eyes remained closed as if she were still asleep. As the moments passed the pains became tremendous, and her whole head was throbbing like a radiation around her. Her paws covered around her snout while she pressed herself deep into the floor as she started to scream, yell, howl, a pain so unbearable she couldn't even think straight. Surely all of The Syndicate would be here if she didn't stop soon. It didn't matter though as she felt nearly immobilized by the striking agony.

"Vanille"

Lost in a peaceful slumber, Azrael had been in a dreamless state of deep sleep, tucked up all snug and sound in his nice big plush bed, happy and warm with Mireia draped across him in their post-coital rest. Spent and satisfied, the Saxe brute would want for nothing, content as could be. So when the frenzied howling and screaming from across the channel broke the stillness of the night, it was a rather rude awakening. Bleary sage eyes snapped open, the haziness of sleep unkindly broken and leaving him feeling groggy while he tried to get his bearings and suss out what the fuck was going on. He grunted and grumbled as he slid Mireia off of his body and rolled to his paws, stumbling out of bed. "Go back to sleep. I'll be back," he mumbled under his breath to his Sidi, grabbing his satchel and a couple of injectors from his shelves before heading out into the cool early spring night in the direction of the screaming.

Crossing the channel to mainland Boreas, Azrael glowered and simmered with barely contained frustration. He recognized Vanille's voice howling in the night clear as day. So what was wrong with the diminutive Sidi fae now? Getting closer to her den was like getting right up next to a wailing emergency siren, her cacophonous howls grating on his nerves. She'd disturbed a very nice sleep. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he shouted at her as he stormed into her den, not stopping his strides until he had cornered her in her bed. Eyes and brain working to figure out why she sounded like she was being murdered. "Stop screaming and tell me so I can fix it."

"Azrael Saxe"

When Azrael had made it into the den, Vanille was able to go quiet as she held her head under her paws. A face he probably didn't have to see while she was tense everywhere on her body but it would have been a clear expression of pain. There was no doubt about that.

Azrael more demanding than her lucid mind would have liked but that didn't matter. All of her energy was being drawn into the excruciating pain that surged all through her head. It took her a few seconds, but at least she was quiet while he waited for her to answer. A whine, "It hurts." English, signs that the drugs he had administered not long ago were fading. Not that he would have known previously that it was her first language. She was too focused on the problem at hand to pull herself back and remember how she got here and what they were doing to her. Not enough thought power to tell her to get through the pain and run the other direction. Not enough to be scared of him. She wouldn't be in enough control to be able to get up and walk on her own back to his alchemy dungeon. But she would be willing to go with him whenever he pulled her out of here.

"Vanille"