He let his stark face relax slightly into a faint smile, as though softened to her sentiment. "...I wish that I heard that more often." He confessed, then moved to escape in the noise, to brush away through the crowd. Desere, he remembered, worked in a bar, but that didn't leave him knowing where, though he had a rough idea what part of town he was likely to find most bars in.
"It's alright." He promised Malachai as they moved again. "It's over, you're safe." He assured. "No one was hurt, everything is alright." He promised, walking with his head bowed. "Lets take you home for a little while, do you want to go home?"

((XD I figure it's always a good thing to leave open, since there are parts of his fathers life he wouldn't know about. And who knows what would happen if someone with sufficient knowledge got ahold of the journal. ))

[[lol true, true!!!! ooooh and btw lovin' the warrior woman look on the avatar! mrowl! lol hehehehehe ;) ]]

The woman stranger had offered Mack only a confused and curious expression to his words. She had no way of knowing the true depth of the loneliness of the two males standing in front of her...let alone the secrets of the boy's Guardian. The mute himself could not have understood the full extent to his companion's words.

By the time the lady would have glanced back, her "quarry" was gone. It left the crowd to their fussings and the two males to their own.

Malachi was not entirely convinced of Mack's words. Everything wasn't alright. He'd not been paying attention. He'd gotten too wound up in what he was doing and had caused a scene. And worse than that, a deadly one. Maybe he'd not gotten physically hurt but at the least the boy's mood and pride was badly damaged. He whimpered silently, flexing his fingers against the big man in a very childish fashion as he huddled close. Despite fearing what Mack thought of him or the fact that the man was still new and intimidating in many ways, the mute clung to him.

Sniffling, he managed to shake his head and pry his head enough away from the gentle giant's chest to peek one shiny-from-tears-bloodshot eye up at Mack's face. 'No home to go home to,' he spelled out against the other's breast, the most sad and frightened expressions upon his round features. It was easy to see he was in turmoil.

((<333 Unfortunately since I haven't been around much this will probably be the first event where I collect only one of them items. Not much to be done about that though))

"What about your Desere'? He asked, softly, as they walked. "You two are not home to each other?" He asked, gently stroking the boys hair with his thumb. He had always wished for some kind of a mother figure, once, though he, personally, had never truly experienced childhood. He'd seen it in others, even among the adopted, something seemed to awaken in many of said women, and he had often longed for that gentle sense of family that he had automaticly assumed that Malachai would find with the woman.
"My rooms, if you prefer?" He offered, curiously, though his thoughts raced to remind himself if he had placed The journal in a safe location. He had considered destroying it so often, but reading and re-reading Victors tiny tragedies and pain had kept him from diving into raw hate for the man.

[[I've only gotten one event item thusfar and that was the like...grape-leaf-laurel-thingies of that last one ^^; hehe....though I did enjoy the new items they came out with for this this one....yay for face paint/make-up! lol...]]


Malachi sniffled once more, rubbing his hands over his eyes and nose, the dirty sleeve of his jacket smearing the mud and water already staining it as well as the tears that had dampened it all over again. The boy frowned, seeming to focus on Mack's words for the moment. Which was likely a very thankful thing. It distracted him from his own tragic, dramatic thoughts.

'I...stay with her above bar...' he replied hesitantly, swallowing hard, 'sometimes.' He wasn't entirely certain of what the big man meant by Desre and himself being home to each other. Homes were buildings...places. His mother he had loved and felt safe with but the boy would never have thought to call her 'home'...perhaps the safety of falling asleep in her arms while she stroked his hair and sang to him....but not the woman herself. And Desre was not his mother at all. As such Mack's words were lost on him.

The mute rubbed at his face again, trying to compose himself slightly. Was Mack trying to ask where Desre and the bar was? If so...he could try directing him, he supposed. The idea seemed oddly surreal and far-fetched considering what had just happened. And yet, to Malachi, the whole night seemed like one strange dreamed-up instance after the next! He blinked and gawked at Mack for the offer of his room, seemingly totally caught off-guard. Tiny fingers flexed against the man's shirt and coat for a few moments as if he were sluggishly attempting to register what had been said. Dark brows pinched in a slow furrow. 'You....don't...hate me? Not....mad....upset....?' The boy asked, muscles tensing as if awaiting to be struck or dropped, hesitantly.

"No no, I don't hate you." he reassured, shaking his head furiously. "When I was... young. I always wanted to go someplace safe when I had been frightened. Thats the only reason I asked. " He promised.
For some time, that place had been the woods, watching a small family from a distance, they had been his unknowing teachers, though when they had actually seen him....
It had been a long time after that before he'd had any sense of 'home' again. "Just say you will be more careful, alright? It was very close. But we can go wherever you would prefer. I thought you might feel better away from the people and the cars. But perhaps thats only me listening to my own thoughts."
He wasn't sure what comfort the boy would find in seeing -his- place of residence, which wasn't much more elaborate than a monk's cell. He kept as few electronics as possible, since most, especially complicated ones, disliked him in any proximity. On stormy nights the neighbors television went to static every time he went too close to the bordering wall between them, though he of course had no idea it wasn't the storm. His computers too, since the man had chosen the otherwise barely habitable place to live so he could spend less on rent and more on his machines. He had figured out that Mack wasn't good for some electronics in short range however, and had never asked him more than the one time to hold =any= of his computer components.

"Ah, none of that, shhh." He tried to comfort the boy, looking for someplace they could sit down until Malachai regained composure again, surprised and somewhat lost in having achieved some measure of connection with someone, he now had no idea what to do about it. He sat them down carefully on a bench, settling the boy on his lap and rocking them slowly. He didn't remember being a child, but it seemed like the right thing to do, like the ghost of a ghost of a memory. He must have seen someone else do it.
"Everythings fine. It's alright."

((Agh, sorry this one is so short))

[[it's ok sweetie *huggles and cuddles*]]


Malachi stayed clung to the larger male even as they sat down, not even entirely aware they had stopped. He whimpered and mewled in his silent fashion, flexing his fingers where they lay wrapped around Mack's neck as he shivered with his sobs. The rocking slowly seemed to work...his wracks not being as violent. The boy loosened his desperate grip, simply keeping his eyes closed as he let the gentle giant soothe him.

How many times had his mother rocked him back and forth? She'd promised him things would be ok. She'd sing or whisper nonsense and all the world would seem right and peaceful again. Again, the mute wasn't certain why Mack was being so nice...why the man made him feel so safe and secure, but he was beyond thankful for it.

Sniffling, he sat back enough to look at the older male, appearing pathetic and wanting. 'You...too nice....' he signed weakly, while wiping at one eye as he sniffed again and again.

Mack gently put the sketchbook down so he could toussle the boys hair and then wipe away his tears from his cheeks with a light touch from his rough, scarred hands.
"No." He disagreed. "But I remember what it feels like to want someone to tell you it's safe. That things will be alright. Perhaps someday when you are grown, you will do the same for someone." He suggested, with a hint of a smile. "I think that would be a good way for things to work, don't you agree? But unfortunately it can be very difficult to look at someone and say "this person is kind" or "this person is terrible", which I have always thought is why fewer people reach out to each other, because they fear that they might be struck instead."

He shook his head again, continuing to rock the boy gently to try and ease his sobs. "No...I see in you what I used to want for myself, but had no to turn to." He tried to explain then gave up. It opened too many questions. Too many things he couldn't answer without revealing the whole of what he was. "Someday maybe, I will tell you everything. But not today." He promised. "Shh. Don't cry... It's alright.

"I see someone who is very lonely, who doesn't know where to turn. I see someone who sees beautiful things in this world, but does not feel part of them, though the way we deal with that is different. I only watch. You draw, you actually make something beautiful. My hands are..not so skilled. My scars...make them stiff."
"You do, at least, have Desere though. Thats something. And now we have each other. Which is something else." He offered out. "And one day when you are grown, you will have many more friends, I'm sure. Not all the world is as cold as it sometimes feels."
Perhaps oneday Malachai would even think he had dreamed the towering giant who watched over him now. An 'imaginary friend'. He wouldn't have been surprised.

Mack patted the boy gently, giving a faint smile. He thought the boy had some talent, but it wasn't his place to tell the boy he should have some reason to draw other than staying out of the way. It gave the boy some degree of comfort, clearly, and he didn't draw at all, so it wasn't for him to theorize about. "Feel better?" He asked, quietly, returning the hug as lightly as possible. He was so tiny. What did it even feel like to be so small?

"What are you sorry for?" He blinked, pulling back slightly to eye the boy the way one might look at a curious cypher from another culture that could not quite be understood. For what reason could be possibly be sorry?Nothing bad had happened.... There wasn't anything that he needed to apologize for.

[[[hey sorry bout the random rant last night o.O....*cuddles*....hope you had a lovely day today and that things are looking up at least????? ]]]

Malachi sighed heavily, his whole body inflating and deflating with obvious effort. Almost an exaggerated one. He shook his head and looked to Mack briefly, as if shy and embarrassed too much so to keep eye contact. 'For...not looking both ways. For not paying attention....being stupid. And....' he frowned to himself, trying to find the right words as he fidgeted. 'Were happy....but then...ruined everything.'

"Happyness is not so fragile that a little rain will melt it like sugar candy. Nothing is ruined, though it would have been if you'd been hurt. However you weren't, of which I am very glad. If I'm more somber now it's because I worry." Mack assured, tilting his head slightly to try and look Malachai in the eyes.

"Why do you keep coming back to the theatre?" He countered question with question. "I'm not particularly approachable. Is it really necessary to understand? Some things don't need unraveled." He stretched slowly, leaning back on the bench to stare up at the sky. Somewhere, he thought he felt the skin ruffling prickle of energy that might become a storm, perhaps by tomorrow.
Mother Lightning was as close as he had to a mother, as close as he had to family, and while the title had started as a joke, he still clung to it like a drowning man clutched at straws. It was an impersonal, raw force of nature, but it was better than nothing. He'd had some level of affection for Victor too, he supposed. Or a raw need for something. He'd hated him and yet, given the opportunity, he would have crawled on hands and knees for one moment of approval. Jealousy and childish rage had spurred him to so much, just to try and make the man acknowledge him.
Perhaps all of this factored into why he was here, now, giving someone else what he'd grasped for for so very long.
"Are you feeling any better?"

Mack returned the hug with a delicacy that matched Malachi's passion, chuckling faintly because he was at a loss for words, and it all seemed rather strange. "There...do you feel better?" He asked, softly. Through the fabric of his shirt of of his scars even stood out faintly, hints of hidden ruination that carved a unique map on the mans skin. "You worry enough for a hundred men." He pointed out, not seeking thank yous greater than this one.

((Hmm, what should we do with them?))

OOC: hmmmm well we could have them head either to the bar or back to Mack's apartment...that was what Mack offered and Malachi would likely be happy to do either

The boy's heart swelled with an added warmth for the returned hug. So gentle and yet so reassuring. Like embraces were meant to be. He'd never had a father figure around much or any other man that really made any sort of such a connection to him. Most of the men he saw in any close proximity either paid him no mind or tried to shush him away. It was nice to feel.....safe.

The mute blinked, quivering from his own thoughts as he flashed Mack a very shy smile, blushing profusely with embarrassment. 'If that means they don't have to worry, then I did good for them, right?' he returned with a crooked, meek little grin.

((Hm *debates where to go* *any preferences?*))

Mack laughed at this, not an unfriendly or mocking sound, though he was amused. "Ah, if the world worked that way, perhaps, but it's not so easy to take over the worries of another. But yes, otherwise I'm certain they would be happy for it. "So I'd like to see you do good by yourself."