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Copyrights: The G-boys aren’t mine, and I don’t see this condition changing in the foreseeable future. They’re the property of Sotsu Agency and Sunrise and not to poor little me. So don’t bother to sue, I’m so broke that if I had a checkbook it would be squealing in pain. Alex and the other ethereal beings are my property. ^-^ (You will respect my authori-tay!)

Notes: It’s getting closer to the end my dears…This part is just downright mean. Those who are oversensitive or have weak stomachs might want to bail now. It’s a dark ride.

Notes II: Thank you Jade for the inspiration of Quatre in tight leather ^-^

Note III: << >> denote personal thoughts

Once again I warn you, this part is VERY dark. Duo is REALLY MEAN. Consider yourselves notified.

Part Eighteen: -Last Night-

 The silence in the living room was deafening. Quatre sat quietly, folded into one of the big armchairs of the place. Off to his left a fire burned, quietly consuming a solitary log in its heated fingers. The little blonde’s eyes were fixed into nowhere at all, their sky-blue depths troubled. A pouting frown rested on his almost bloodless lips. He’d been sitting that way for almost five hours. Trowa had left around eight A.M. that morning; it was now one in the afternoon. The crisp and clear skies of earlier that morning had turned rather troubled and were overcast, holding the light of the winter’s sun from that which was bellow.

 Dorthy was in the next room, watching television with little or no interest, her liquid eyes fixed onto somewhere, but her mind roaming restlessly all over the place. As far as Quatre could feel his wayward lover was off speeding down one of the many highways, taking sharp turn after sharp turn, flirting with death as if nothing mattered to him anymore. With a long sigh Quatre got up, he didn’t want to sit there pouting for the rest of the afternoon. He had to get away, and get out of the house, to do something completely uncharacteristic, if nothing else, to escape himself.

 Meandering up the stairs was a simple task; he took them slowly his mind playing and toying with all of the possibilities for ‘fun’ that he knew of. Being a man of the world he and his family had access to all sorts of interesting information. He wasn’t particularly proud of the fact that he knew the lists of places and things that he did; but they all provided a sort of escape that he yearned for at the moment. It was time to escape the apocalyptic nonsense and delve into sensation and rhythm and out of reason.

“I’m sorry Trowa, I just need to get away for a while, and life is short…”

 The journey up the stairs only took moments; he was up and into their shared bedroom before he honestly knew what to do with himself. Staring at his dressers a small smirk hovered about his lips. The drawer came open with a hallow rasping that filled the silence of the upstairs. Riffling through the pink shirts and dress attire that he was almost always found in Quatre came to his –other- clothing.  With a loving caress he stroked a forefinger over the smooth leather. The smell of the same drifted up and filled his nose.

“Who says I’m a good boy?”

 The pants were almost skin tight; they had been the most form fitting that he could find. The black leather shone with a hungry sheen. He tied up the drawstrings in front, the same, odd smirk resting about his lips. It took a moment to wiggle out of the oversized sweatshirt he had previously been in and back into something slinky and tight. He had just as much muscle as the others; his form was just as nice. His physique was more of a slim and feminine one, yet no less attractive than the rest.

“I can be a bad boy too; they all think I’m so perfect, so clean, but they don’t really understand me at all!”

 Stephanie stared at her little brother in horror. She had understood that he could be a little mentally imbalanced when he got stressed, but what he was planning to do would just cause him harm. She had seen him a few times at times at parties and raves when his mind got away from him, writhing wildly to the music, not caring where he was, what he took, who was touching him. She couldn’t let him do that to himself, she wouldn’t let him give in to that sort of a temptation. With just the barest bit of concentration she watched his eyes roll back in his head and heard the soft thump as he fell down onto the bed, his limp form bouncing slightly until the springs fully caught his weight.

 She sighed quietly and sat down to watch him, folding her wings around her and running her pale hands through his hair.

<Trowa, you would be best advised to come back, you’re needed here. By storming off like that you cause more damage then you would even think to imagine. >

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  _

 Trowa hauled against the handlebars of his bike, he barely stayed on the road at a hairpin turn.

<<I don’t understand why it is that I’m so upset with him? >>

 The wind whipped past him, screaming through his ears, marking his progress along the road. The realization crept slowly into his numb brain, meandering and taking its time. Then it stuck him, the complete sense that it made blinding him. He slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road, letting his feet fall down from the metal frame of the bike. He pulled of his helmet with a gasp.

 A smirk hovered on his lips as he thought about his sudden epiphany and the more he thought on it, the more it made sense to him.

“I’m so angry because I’m afraid to loose the only thing in the world that I really care about. It’s kind of funny, Madam Lain, the old fortune teller at the circus told me that when I fell in love it would be the only love I could feel.

 I never believed in that sort of a thing before. Yet it makes so much sense to me now, he’s everything that I ever wanted in a person and more, so much more than that. I’m so angry because I’m scared. I’m scared of loosing that perfection that I just gained.”

Stephanie reached out to him, her mental tone pleading. He couldn’t deign anything more than that he was needed at home.  He straddle the bike once again and turned, burning rubber onto the face of the road. He had to get home, he never should have left in the first place.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ___ _ _ _ _  _ __ _

“Ne…. Hee-chan?”

 Heero turned and looked over his shoulder at Duo who was piggybacking once again. The chestnut haired boy looked at him sleepily.

“Les’ just go home. I don’t want to go back to the hospital, they can’t do anything more for me anyway.”

 Heero wasn’t about to relent easily, he looked over at Wufei, checking to see if the other would support the idea or if it ought to be vetoed. Wufei shrugged carefully, inclining that he didn’t think it would be too much of a problem. Heero leaned back as much as he was able and gave Duo a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Then home we go.”

 Duo smiled lazily at him and buried his face in the crook of Heero’s shoulder. Heero smirked and set him down in the front seat of their car carefully. He curled up in the seat, falling into a deeper doze than the one he had previously been in. Wufei looked at Heero in the rearview mirror. It surprised him how deep everyone’s masks went, and just how deep his own mask went. They turned onto one of the calmer highways leading back in the homeward direction. He guessed Heero’s motives as wanting Duo to be able to sleep peacefully. He turned out the window and watched the scenery fly by for an indefinite period of time. And then he started as Trowa roared past them on one of the motorcycles, riding as if the demons of hell were out to get him.

“What do you suppose happened?”

 Heero had one of his odd smiles on as he answered Wufei’s question.

“He just realized that he has something to go back to.”

 Wufei stayed silent for a moment and then spoke conversationally, still watching the racing scenery. “I worry about you Heero, I really do.”

“You need not be concerned.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 Trowa ran up the stairs two at a time. He failed to notice that Dorthy was still calmly sitting and watching television. Had he checked with her then his heart wouldn’t be pounding as hard as it was. He threw open the door to their room, it slammed against the wall with an indignant groan. The sight that greeted him terrified him and exhilarated him all at once.

 The little blonde was sprawled out on his bed, his golden locks splayed out over the bed haphazardly, falling across his face and around his head, forming a shining halo of hair. He was outfitted in form fitting leather that would make any self-respecting person take a second look if simply in appreciation for the design. His face was stunning when he was asleep, his gentle and yet defined features half-shadowed and oddly alluring in the half-light. He was so precious that Trowa couldn’t even form a coherent thought.

“Quat?”

 He heard his own hallow voice filling the heavy silence of the room, there was no reply from the little boy on the bed.

“Quat-chan?”

 Still no reply, his breaths were shallow and long in-between.

“Quatre?”

 He took a seat on the bed, observing from some detached part of himself that his hands were trembling violently. He stroked the hair back from his beau’s forehead and shook him lightly, trying to stir him from whatever doze he was in. He found no response.

 An irrational urge to go and chew Dorthy out for not watching him more carefully filled his mind, only to be overridden by the need to stay by his man and make sure that he was all right. He compulsively stroked his hands through Quatre’s silky hair, over his cheeks, trying to bring life and animation back into his form simply by touch.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you out like this?”

 The look on Quatre’s face frightened him. It looked to him like his little lover had been very lost, frightened or confused just before he went out, perhaps all three. There was an edge of madness in the half-smile that rested on his still lips. He didn’t think Quatre the type to flip out though. He stayed there a while, still compulsively running his hands over Quatre.

“You have to realize what you mean to me, how deeply you’ve entrapped my heart. You can’t be like Duo; you can’t just leave. That wouldn’t be fair to me, you don’t realize that you’re the only person that I’m ever going to be able to love. Madam Lain was never wrong when it came to her predictions. She told me the first person that I would ever love would steal my heart away from me and hold it tight. You’re that person. You have to understand me.”

 He realized that he was talking without thinking about the words too hard, but they sounded about right.  He had this feeling that he wasn’t getting through. He sighed and fell silent, pulling the boy into his lap.

 Stephanie faded into the scenery. She leaned over and whispered into Trowa’s ear.

<He’s frightened, and he’s dreaming. Share his dream Trowa, understand the one you love and the ways that you can scar him.>

_ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _  __  __  _ _ _ _  _

<<Where am I?>>

 Trowa looked around the deserted playground, trying deign where exactly it was that he had gotten to. It didn’t make too much sense to him how he had managed to go from sitting on the bed with Quatre to this deserted and windswept playground.

<Look.>

 He turned in a slow semi-circle, trying to locate where Stephanie’s sweet and yet somber voice was coming from. He couldn’t find her, so instead he looked as he was instructed. There was Quate, except many, many years smaller than he was. He looked to be about four or five, sitting on a swing quietly, his feet far off the sandy bottom of the sandbox that the swings were rooted in. He wasn’t smiling, nor was he laughing, he was just sitting there.

Trowa scanned the surrounding areas looking for little Quatre’s guardian. He found no such person, just he small boy sitting on his own. He observed the strange antics of time in this dreamscape as it moved around the still form of the small child. After what seemed like hours had passed someone finally came up to the little boy, smiling at him and asking if he had enjoyed his time at the park, and if he had played with his friends?

The little boy smiled, ever so polite, even at that young age and lied that, yes, he had played with some kids, but they had to go home so he sat on the swings for a while and played. The guardian smiled, relieved that their little burden had enjoyed himself, and walked him off to a car to drop him back off at home. Trowa knew the truth, the poor little boy had sat on that swing the entire day, watching the other children play. They didn’t like him, for some odd and indefinable reason he wasn’t acceptable. That was the nature of young children, completely innocently they proved to be the most vicious of the human race.

The scene changed, he was sitting on a huge bed, the covers almost stifling him. He’d been waiting for a while, his small form wrapped up in the sheets as he stared patiently at the door. Finally the person his vigil had started for appeared, his father a great and towering man.

“Papa!”

His voice had been sweet and musical, lighter and yet very similar to the one that he possessed as a teen. A kiss on the cheek full of whiskers, a whispered goodnight and an ‘I love you’ then once again he was gone and Quatre greeted his old friend solitary.

Trowa began to wonder if Quatre ever had people around him, then the scene changed again. He was a young man, walking with a group of his older sisters, ignoring the whisperings.

“Poor dear, never had a mother, raised by hired help, his father doesn’t have time for him.”

“I don’t think he has a friend he can call his own, what a pity.”

“Gotta wonder about him, the only boy in a family full of females…don’t know what to make of that boy.”

 He always held his head high, always had a smile on for everyone to see, and always seemed to be the proud son that he ought to be. Then the voices, the dreams, the things coming through the walls that no one could see. Trowa got a first hand look at exactly what it was that Quatre saw and heard. He saw the people horribly mutilated and mangled, talking with him, beseeching him, screaming at him, scaring the young boy so badly that he wished to curl up into a ball and die to, if only it would somehow justify the pain and strife that they had all gone through.

 His own voice floated through the miasma, clear above the clamor of memory.

//You’re a kind person Quatre and the kinder you are the harder it is on you…//

 He was beginning to realize that Quatre’s eyes were only smiling because if they weren’t smiling then they would be crying; crying for himself, crying for others, crying for all of the pain and the injustice and the wrongs. Quatre wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t the innocent angel that everyone thought that he was. He had seen so much, understood so much, and been denied so much that he had grown up faster than any of them. Yet he had such a love in his heart that it couldn’t be called anything else but divine.  He was an angel; a solitary angel.

 Things changed around him again, everything falling dark, all of the images, the memories fading away into an abyss of black. Then a spotlight, a single spotlight, falling onto the blonde as he sat quietly in a chair, always proper, but with his thumb in his mouth. He stared directly at Trowa, his bright blue eyes seeming even more brilliant in his youth.

<Tonight is the last night. Partake of the flesh and absolve your ties with this world for change is afoot and stamping to move forward. Tomorrow the Antichrist comes. Tomorrow the Christ comes. Tomorrow everything shatters into a thousand shards of broken glass and we all become. >

 Trowa gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and a wrenching feeling of certainty falling into his gut.

<Tomorrow I won’t be me…>

_ _ _ _  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  _ _ __ _ _   __ _  __ _  __ _ _ _
 

<<Heero’s beside me…>> A strange and hungry look spread across Duo’s features as he contemplated Heero’s back, staring at his wings. With a leisurely hand he reached out and petted the feathers, following their patterns down.  Heero made a sound in his sleep and shifted. Duo smirked, he had forgotten just how sensitive angel wings were.

“Sleeping well baby?” He crooned a strange light shining in his eyes as he stroked his fingers over Heero’s wings.

He shivered quietly, excitement flushing through his frame as Heero moaned softly in his sleep. The angel was sleeping in his skin, the only other things on him were his wings. Of course, Duo was in his skin. He furled his wings back and out of the way and moved up closer to Heero, his blood running hot and fast through his veins. Leaning up close to Heero he planted several hot kisses from Heero’s jaw down his outstretched neck. Heero shifted in his sleep, looking blearily at Duo.

“Koi-chan?” His voice was half-asleep. He peered at Duo over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

Duo smiled, innocently enough, his wide eyes beguiling enough to charm. “Exactly what you think I’m doing.” He purred it into Heero’s ear, his velvety tones winding their way sinuously through Heero’s mind.

Still something stopped the angel. “I’m tired and I don’t think we should, let’s just sleep ne?”

Duo looked indigent, “how can I sleep when you make me feel so…-hot- inside?”

 Heero sighed. “Duo, just sleep babe.” He turned over and was gone to the world once again. A cruel smile worked slowly over Duo’s features as he moved closer to Heero, rubbing himself up against the boy, his voice still velvety-soft and yet cold.

“I don’t want to sleep Hee-chan…”

 Heero’s eyes snapped open wide and yet he didn’t move. It had come down to this then. He dove inside of himself quickly taking a quick council with the boy within. Once they had reached a consensus the angel dove back out into consciousness. With a deep breath he steeled himself, and stayed as he was. There was no sort of arousal running through his body, only a cold certainty of certain things to come. Every now and then he involuntarily shivered as Duo nipped at his wings or stroked them in such a manner that he couldn’t stop his reaction. He felt Duo’s hot fingers moving over his flesh, his tongue working over every inch of him. The sounds of Duo humming in a disjointed and tuneless manner mixed and mingled with those of sheets shifting and small panting gasps. There was more to come.

 After the demon had amused himself enough it started. Duo was erect; the angel had been aware of that small fact for a while now. He could feel the other boy’s length brushing against him from time to time. Duo leaned over his shoulders, crushing one of his wings at a painful angle and captured his mouth, forcing his tongue in. His mental voice moved forcefully into the angels’ frozen thoughts, cold and malicious, very forceful upon it’s entry.

<C’mon Heero! Where’s the response?! I’ve been dreaming about laying you for months! >

 That was all the warning he got before he found his legs roughly shoved apart and pure pain injected into him from the bottom up. A stifled gasp was all he allowed himself to let out as Duo pushed into him, friction and the lack of any sort of lubrication making the experience excruciating. This was one of the first times that Heero had ever felt something like that and it was hell, pure hell in the shape of male genitalia. Duo wasn’t just kissing and nipping at him anymore, he was biting, with the intent to hurt and draw blood.

 Each thrust was punctuated by a different stab of pain at a different site on his body. After about three minutes of sheer torture the going became a tad bit easier and he felt something wet and warm trickling down his legs. He was bleeding, Duo was causing him to bleed. No, he didn’t mind all that much, he kept repeating it over and over again. He didn’t mind, it was okay, he loved Duo, and it was okay. That love justified anything.

 Duo’s panting breaths were loud in the stillness of the room. He smiled and leaned down, licking the outside edge of Heero’s ear, working his tongue inward causing the other boy to pant slightly in something other than pain.  Then he bit the same bit of flesh, feeling an exhilarating high as the metallic taste of blood moved over his tongue. The angel had amazing resilience, he barely even made a whimper.

“What’s wrong, -Hee-chan?- Not having fun anymore?”

 Silence greeted his ears, except for his own labored breathing. He heard something crunch beneath him and frowned slightly at the mix of pleasure which quickly transformed into numbing pain on Heero’s face. He’d broken one of the bones in a wing.

“I’m so sorry baby, was that yours?”

 The thrusts were coming faster now, Heero could feel his maniacal excitement rushing through his aching frame, Duo’s pulse pounding through a tired body. He felt badly for the boy trapped beneath it all, but he couldn’t say all that much, because perhaps there was a bit of Duo in this as well. The demon lost himself with a strangled cry wrenching its way out of his throat as he spilled himself into Heero. The angel sighed, at least that was over with; perhaps it was over---

 He thought too soon. Duo fell back against the shattered wing, causing a squeak of pain to jump from Heero’s throat. His breathy voice rang through abused ears.

“Did you like that baby?”

 Heero didn’t meet his eyes, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to remember Duo that way. The demon rolled off of him and petted the uninjured wing quietly, gathering himself.

 Fusei was about ready to leap at Duo and strangle the life out of him. She expected to find some sort of opposition in Alex and yet she found nothing at all. The smell of blood permeated the air, filling her nostrils, fueling her stressed temper.

<I’ll kill the bastard. I’ll kill him for hurting Heero like that. He’ll hold those memories for the rest of his life! >

 Fusei was perfectly aware that if she were to go after the demon at that point Alex would be on her faster than ever before. Then she saw Duo stroking a single one of Heero’s feathers in particular. One of the primary feathers, that would bleed the most if pulled. Her eyes widened in disgust and fear.

<HEERO!!!!>

 Something was stopping her, everything had gone dark, and she couldn’t see Heero. <Alex! LET ME GO! I HAVE TO GO TO HIM!!>

 Something wet was falling on her face. She looked up and found herself wrapped up in Alex’s tattered and leathery wings. The sighing, sobbing mental voice of the demi-demon pierced through her mind, carrying with it the tones of sadness and pain that she felt.

< Just don’t look Fusei. There’s nothing you can do- - - I already tried. >

 Fusei blinked at her, her liquid eyes looking like a small and confused child’s. <But, he’s the one you’re supposed to be guarding…. >

 Alex shook her head, scrunching her eyes closed. <I- I- I don’t think that it’s right. I- I can’t speak out against it, and I can’t block it out, but I can shield you from it. You don’t have to see it. You’re divine, you’re from that pure place. You don’t need to see dirty things like that. >

 She tried half-heatedly to pull out of the dark and comforting prison of Alex’s wings. She couldn’t do it, she didn’t have the strength to pull away. The first scream Heero gave was enough to make her want to pull away; the second dulled her resolve instead of strengthening it. By the seventh she was huddled against Alex shaking, the little demon petting her long hair and murmuring nonsense in her mind.  It was so odd to see, a demon guarding an angel.

 Duo smiled at Heero, flipping the feather back and forth between his fingertips, the bloodstained tip still dripping. The sheets were soaked with a crimson pool.

“You have to sleep in the wet spot babe,” he said, cruel humor coloring his voice.

 Heero stared up at him with dull and clouded blue eyes. It had taken a lot to make him scream, the perfect, divine and holy being. Yanking that primary feather had been a bit low but after that the others had come off with much less resistance. They littered the bed, bloodstained. He was using the biggest one as a pen.

“See, I’m learning how to write kanji! I scrawled your name out on your chest. Now everyone can read the scar and know who you are!”

 He smiled sweetly at the bleeding boy beneath him. “Oh yeah! Your wing’s still broken! I’ll fix that!”

 Had he seen Heero’s pleading eyes he might not have snapped the thing back into place.

“You always do that you know? It’s so gross, I don’t know how you can stand it.”

 Tears flowed freely down the angels’ blood splattered face, but Duo ignored them. He reached up, kissed Heero’s forehead with all of the tenderness of a mother to a child and then snuggled up against his chest.  That caused another wave of distress to wash over the angel. At some point during the last hellish hour or so he had acquired a broken rib. He was inclined to believe it was around the time Duo had driven his elbow into his chest to keep him from squirming.

“G’nite…-Hee-chan-. “

 Heero let out an exhausted sigh as the demon dropped off. Five minutes later he was awake again. Duo backed off the battered angel as if he were laying on a land mine.

“Oh God,” his voice was a hoarse whisper.

“Oh God,” it rang through the silence like a knife through butter, all of his horror and shame painted in vibrant tones for the world to see.

“Oh God!”

 Heero could swear he heard the choking sounds of sobbing in the darkness as Duo backed off of the bed completely. The broken and disjointed voice of Duo Maxwell fumbled through the silence.

“C-can you get up?”

 Heero tested it, and squealed with pain, his entire body hurt. Duo’s voice came quickly again. “Just relax okay? I’m going to float you up and change the sheets---and get some Band-Aids and gauze.”

 There was a pause as he gasped for breath and tried to keep control of his voice. “You’ll be okay Heero.”

 The angel felt himself lifted up and the sounds of sheets rustling around as they were changed. The smell of blood lessened somewhat as Duo threw them into the bathroom. At some point he was lowered onto something soft and dry. The sensation of trembling hands applying antibiotics was what came to him next. Bandages were wound around some of the most major wounds with the same hesitating care and then Duo laid down across from him, giving him space. Heero rolled over onto his stomach carefully and patted the bed next to him.

“Here koi-chan.”

“N-no…I can’t…you don’t have to…I…I just ra-“

“Here.”

 Heero’s voice was forceful, cutting off any argument that Duo could have made. The hesitant demon scooted just close enough so that his wings barely brushed Heero’s sore ones. The Japanese boy reached out and pulled Duo over and tucked him under a wing. Duo felt a warm reassurance rush over his mind and body, and a feeling of security implant itself in his mind. Instinctively he snuggled closer to Heero before he thought about what he was doing. By the time he realize it was too late to pull back. Heero kissed his cheek lightly and let his head fall onto the pillows.

“I forgive you.”

 Duo couldn’t believe his ears. “Just like that?”  He was surprised at how meek and weak his own voice could sound.

“Just like that.”

 The Deathscythe pilot let a small smile creep onto his lips. “I don’t deserve it.”

“I love you.”

 Duo started and then smiled deeper in the darkness, making the gesture completely pointless.

“You know I do. You’re the only man for me Heero Yuy.”

“It’s not going to the same in the morning.”

“I know…-he’ll- be back in control again.”

 Duo spat out the word ‘he’ as if it were a poison to be purged from the body. Heero sighed, “and I’ll be completely there as well. We can rest together tonight and I’ll be gone in the morning. Just try to live Duo. That’s all I want from you.”

“That’s all I ever wanted myself Heero.”

A quick explanation: Heero/angel was messed with by that experience, I know that the human psyche can’t take that sort of abuse like it was nothing. I used the most plausible means for him to be able to talk to the real Duo afterward; he acted as if it were another person, because he couldn’t see the demon. ^-^;;;  Basically he jumped straight into denial. >>

-Kuriyamimizu-
Keeper of Duo's Bloody Nightmares
Keeper of Duo's really bad migraines
Another occupant of the happy hentai house
Proud Member of the SDDI
Madam Hydra’s Sadistic Pet (mew ^-^)

Computer Caretaker of the Shinigami organization.
The Shinigami Organization
www.ShinigamiOrg.homestead.com/index.html
The only mob dedicated to Shinigami

ICQ me at #82315185
contact @: darksideduo@yahoo.com

See the art of the insanity that is the story?

White Reflection (my yaoi nook)
http://www.fortunecity.com/marina/tripcock/835/index.html
(Heero will show you in)

"The lights are on, but nobody's home.."-some really spiffy movie I saw
"Everything you want is not necessarily everything you need.
Every second counts" -Vertical Horizon Music Vid.
"Fuck you no da!" -things chiri chiri will never say
"Every revolution begins with a single act of defiance"
 

Possessor of a mighty set of Two muses:
Chibi Kuri: little blue haired sayajin with quite a temper
Griffin: The little Duo-esque muse with a dark black braid and a kawaii set of batwings (not to mention a cute .. *BEEP*..)