Soaking in the sweat only terror can create, Azerax's outsteached hands involuntarily grip the sheets. 'Unfamiliar', the only thought to form in his head.

'No' Azerax thinks

Looking to his right, to the soaked carnation floating in a glass of blood, 'I will find him for you. I will start right now. I will make you red forever.'

'Stop it' said the carnation, resting on his left knee, dried blood having stained his pants on the white napkin embroidered with LBS

'Yes you did' Azerax thought, then realises that maybe he did not.

'Gaenva?n' Morgan speaks, a look of concern gracing her face as she leans forward in her chair.

'Gaenvan? How is it she knows that name?, lightning strikes through Azerax's mind.

'Not Azerax' screams the carnation.

Azerax's, no Gaenvans eyes suddenly droop as his soul retreats taking all ounces of life with it. 'Gaenvan?' terrifying thoughts. 'Morgan?' he speaks.

'Yes Gaenvan?'

'What moment is this?'

'The same as the last' she says while she exchanges one knee upon the next.

'I must apologize' Azerax, or Gaenvan says.

'There is no need.'

'Why?' someone says, not sure who is answering, wondering why a bloody flower is staining his pants.

'Your family is not sorry for who you are'

'Family' someone thinks, probably Gaenvan at this point.

'My family has been good to me. I have fond memories of them all' Gaenvan says.

Looking around Gaenvan sees a twenty piece band playing jazz on stage, a low fog of smoke exuding from both their music and their souls. Their jazz is sharp, and pure.

'Morgan?' asks Azerax

'Yes Gaenvan?'

'Gaenvan? he asks

'Please Gaenvan, this moment is now.' whispers Morgan as she clutches his hand.

Azerax, a blinding light of memories flood through. Azerax was my father. A father obsessed by the murder of his wife that he was consumed with finding the killer.

Blank eyes search the crowd, a piercing stare searching for Morgan, eyes like blue shattered marbles dancing in panic until they settle upon her.

'Morgan' Gaenvan asks, Azerax forced once again to the past.

'Gaenvan' she responds, settling back into her chair.

'I promised to find him tomorrow. I promised not to leave her there, the red and white flashing, the wet red, the puddle. I promised.'

'No Gaenvan, your fathered promised. He failed'

The truth is an unique creature. It sets some men free while at the same time setting some men into insanity. Failure is almost the same creature, tending more to the insanity part then truth.

Salt, warmth, almost burning down the left cheek, Gaenvan drops the white napkin in his left hand and touches his face.

'Do not apologize for who you are' someone says, probably the blood crusted carnation in his lap.

'I failed?' Gaenvan asks.

'You did not.' a velvet voice responds.

Gaenvan sits there curiously wondering who has failed.

'Welcome back Az' a voice says.

'Stop' the flower reminds him.

Gaenvan forces himself back into his hunter green chair, hands extending over the leather arms, the cool temperature causes his palms to twitch.

'Gaenvan' Morgan says to Henry_hill

'Now I know who I'm working with' Henri responds, walking away.

Working? Gaenvan stares for answers, one hand to the next.

Gaenvan relaxes as the dawn breaks, perhaps for a second, as now washes over him. 'The sins of the father are visited upon his children' goes through is mind as he remembers. His father had come to Philly, he had died in Philly.

'He knew the risks and had no regrets' says Gaenvan

'I can only hope I live up to his name.'

Very interesting story mate:)