Leon.
Somehow, he made his way back to the palace, bloody and torn up from his fight with the Mirrors. The cover of darkness enabled him to slip through the palace's blind spots and defenses till he got back to his chambers.
This time, he didn't return to the cell. After all there wasn't anyone to ensure he actually stayed in the place.
The first thing he did was lock himself in the bathroom, turn the shower on the hottest setting, and stand under it, watching the water turn pink and eventually run clear.
Unsoothed, his corrupted mind replayed the illusions from the Dream Weaver.
In the steam filled space, his skin burned hotter than the water.
Anna. He pictured her, the Anna shown to him by the Dream Weaver. Her soft skin. Her inviting lips. The curves of her body that drive him mad with want.
Anna.
He grabbed the wall, his head ducked low, his fists clenched to the point of his claws elongating and cutting into his palms, fresh blood dripping into the wet floor.
