Lev awoke with a start, snarling as he aimed his revolver around before he was in the presence of what passed for friends. He murmured an apology to everyone, trying to look a bit remorseful for his sudden behavior. In the crimson light, his eyes caught his hand again. Stakeless. Removed from his palm entirely. It was an odd feeling, being free now.

Free...

He turned his head quickly, thinking he had heard something. A whisper, of sorts. After a moment he brushed it off as nothing, returning to his musings. He worked his fingers back and forth, finding it odd how they had healed, how the muscle had repaired itself. Flesh was a fascinating thing. It could regrow from almost any debilitating setback. The flesh he was thinking of was so attractive...

Hearing the whisper again, Lev shook his head. He knew he had heard something. Words had formed, he had heard suggestions, whispers, quiet musings. Not something for him to dwell on.

He crawled over to Rue's sleeping form, nudging her in the shoulder with the barrel of his revolver.

"Wake up. It day second. We move today."

With a growl, Lev leaned over Rue's prone form. He whispered very closely to her ear, doing his best not to be overheard.

"We need talk. I have...concern. About a thing. And we best get move on while can."

Muffling a snort, Dante blinked his eyes up and stayed where he was, instinctively. His job required that he not make any indication that he was awake, and it was well-integrated into the bounty hunter's muscles. Reflexively, soundlessly, he slipped a hand under his scarf and felt for the knife, just in case someone would try to attack him.

Feenai awoke suddenly, the dream she was having already slipping away into nothingness. Shaking her head to clear it, she tried to ignore the pains in her stomach from the succor capsule she had consumed the previous day. She was still slightly hungry, but did not feel like having another succor capsule yet. She pulled out the bag anyways, and placed five of them on the floor in front of her. Drawing on the secretive practice she had made while living with her parents, she lifted them into the air telekinetically, one at a time. Once she had them all in the air, she tried to move them in different ways, spinning one horizontally, and one vertically. She made the other three bounce and jiggle along at different rates, testing her control. It's been a long time since I've done this, but it appears that I still have a great deal of control.

Feenai heard Jeanne stir beside her, and stopped her mental exercise. She opened the bag and mentally marched the five capsules back into it, before sealing the bag and returning it to her pocket.

Lev was quiet for a moment, trying to find a way to phrase what he wanted to say. He finally blurted out what he was thinking, not being able to find a way around his less-than-eloquent speech.

"Yesterday I go down sewer again. To get gun. I hear voice. Not really voice. Whisper. Not understand. But I feel it. Gun is buried under corpses. Of Dybbuk. I...I believe I ate them. Maybe. There is part I do not remember. But I remember chewing on bone. I do not know why. Is that a normal thing? Do other peoples eat things like that?"

He ended his speech with genuine concern on his face, not really clear what people in this part of the world ate. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew there had been more to it than just an overly-distracting appetite.

Jeanne yawned quietly, rubbing her eyes. 'When did I fall asleep?' she asked herself, looking around and then at the book on her lap. Then she remembered; it had been gradual, and she had been reading this fantastic book. The theurge had never had access to something like this before and she had plans to try out some of the techniques.

She noticed Fee was also awake, and the others seemed to be stirring as well. "Morning," she said quietly to the girl next to her, popping a succor capsule as she did so.

Hearing the psychic's complaint, Shealtiel rouses from his meditative reverie, a slight smiling creasing his gaunt cheeks. Cleanliness is one advantage of the inhuman forces he allows to ravage his body; any foreign organisms die at first contact. The black waters of Sheol wipe clean his body every time he invokes them -- which is almost constantly. He is kept hale even as he wounds himself with necromantic power.

Now that most of the others have awoken, Shealtiel stands and says to them, "I suggest we return to Corinth now while the night holds. The city will be reeling from the assault and the death of the Saint. We should be able to acquire any supplies we might require, with little resistance, hopefully." Looking around, he adds, "Though I'm sure you have a better idea, my dear," to the red-haired woman who seems to find some sort of facile pleasure in keeping her name a secret -- and yes, he is aware that his thoughts are open to her. Draw from that what you will, daughter of Babylon.

"Good morning John," Feenai answered carefully. She had to make sure her voice didn't crack or waver. Just because she had a breakdown doesn't mean everyone had to know about, least of all Jeanne. "So, that's a good book? And I think the old man is suggesting we go back to town for supplies, before we head off. I'm not sure of the exact reasons, but they all appear to be going together. I thought I would, umm, stay with you. If you don't mind that," she added quickly, blushing faintly.

Dante tensed, his hand tightening around the handle of his switchblade. His usually tan complexion had turned a sickly gray, not that anyone would notice in this dim light. He had fully intended on his his breathing even, to not make it apparent that he was awake, but his breath now came in muffled ragged gasps buried into his scarf as he tried stem the flow of tears that were threatening to flood out. He drew a long breath in, sat up, and clenched his left fist onto the bookshelf.

"...I can hear you, lion," he growled, eyes shadowed over. He was, for the first time in a while, being consumed by a black murderous rage that left his sanity partially in place. "Why can't you...leave...the dead...in peace?!" he managed to spit out in between breaths.

Jeanne thought for a moment, then nodded. "Not so much good as interesting." Although the writing was merely passable, it was obvious how much expertise and time was behind the writing.

Hearing the first few of Fee's next words, she nodded, though inwardly she was a little annoyed that because she was most likely to survive while around them, she couldn't bring herself to leave them. This especially applied to Fee; though arguably the weakest member, she reminded Jeanne very strongly of her older brother. So at her next words, she was pleasantly surprised.

"Of course I don't mind," she said with a smile.