Salome sat at the end of her bed in the dark, released a long breath. Her hand slipped from her leg to the sheets beside her, her fingers making small circles over the silk. The door opened quietly behind her, but she didn't bother to open her eyes. She released another long breath.

Job shut the door behind him before looking at the woman at the end of her bed. Her back was to him, but even that couldn't hide the fact that she was beautiful. Her straight black hair hung down her back, stopping just above her waist. Even in the moonlight her hair looked too dark for her. Her shoulders were pale, almost blue in the light, looking nearly the same color as the thin white nightgown she wore.
He leaned against the wall. "Any reason you're sitting in the dark."

"I'm meditating," she said stonily.

"I didn't know you were into all that new age shit."

She breathed out through her nose tensely. "I'm trying to clear my mind."

He smirked. "How's that going?"

"Not so well since you came in here."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Job said.

She sighed, finally opening her eyes. "Obviously you aren't."

He moved towards her, frowning slightly when he saw her tense at his approach. He reached out, pushing the rest of her hair to the back, leaving him with a clear view of her profile.

Salome didn't move.

"You're going to have to tell me what's wrong sooner or later, Sal," he said.

"I don't see why."

He slipped a finger under her chin and turned her to face him. Her blue eyes hit him even more strongly than normal, the anger behind them making them look sharper than they already were. "What's wrong?"

She continued to look at him.

"Salome" he sighed, flopping back on the bed. He watched her stand and move to the window. "You know, for someone so obsessed with atonement, you fail to make use of sacrament of confession."

"It's not my sacrament," she said, "I'd have to believe in your religion for it to be my sacrament."

"My religion?" He raised an eyebrow.

She continued to stare out the window.

He sighed heavily, "Salome."

She didn't react.

"Salome," he said a little more sharply, "Come here."

She released a tense breath before turning to face him.

As much as she hated to admit it, Job was an attractive man. Tan and tall, he was everything she was not. His plain brown hair and eyes would have made anyone else look average, but there was just something completely abnormal about him.

"Come here," he said again, resting up on his forearms.

She moved to the end of the bed.

He sighed and sat, catching her hands and pulling her on top of him.

She fell lithely, catching herself easily. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

He smirked. "And are going where, exactly?"

"Home."

"What home?" he asked.

"You know exactly what home," she said sharply.

"You'd be killed before you reach the town gates," he said, "You really want to face the entire eastern front of the Sibusian army to try to walk home?"

"If I have to," she said.

"Tell me." He leaned up to kiss her. "Do you really think dying for your sins is worth the redemption?"

She pulled back out of his range. "I'll let you know when I find out."

He sighed, "You aren't going to save yourself or anyone else by getting yourself killed."

"You don't know that." Salome pushed him down, sitting back so she was on top of his legs.

"Yes," he said, "I do."

"How?"

"Because what you're talking about is committing suicide by army. There's nothing honorable about that."

"I'm not asking for honor," she said.

"There's no atonement in it either," Job said darkly, "What have you done that's so horrible anyway?"

She moved off him. "I don't feel the need to explain myself to you."

"Too bad, because you're going to."

"This may be your house, Job, but I'm not your pet. You can't just order me and have me jump to obey."

"I'm the one who's kept you alive this long."

"Maybe I don't want to be alive," she snapped.

"So you are attempting suicide by army," he said.

"I'm not doing any good being alive. I won't do anything. Maybe at least this way I could be a martyr. I'd get more done that way than I ever would living here."

"You won't become a martyr, Salome," he said, "All you will do is die with the misguided notion that you're redeeming yourself for some long forgotten sin."

"Pretty," she said.

"You're not going to distract me by critiquing my syntax."

She shook her head. "How would you know if it's forgotten. You don't know anything about my sins."

"Because you haven't told me."

She pressed her lips together, looking at the man for a long moment. "I had to make a choice a long time ago. I don't know, maybe your God was testing me. I failed."

"Failed what?"

She just looked at him.

"I'll lock you in here, I hope you realize, if I have to."

"If you think you can." Salome crossed her arms over her chest. "You have been housing me, not holding me."

"You think you could make it out of this house if I didn't want you to?"

"You don't know what I'm capable of, in sheer force of will or power."

He studied her, noticing for the first time the way her eyes almost glowed in the dark. A chill went down his spine. Something told him he didn't.