Timore Scarborough
Theme

Having been forced to take dancing lessons by his adopted parents, who were both hopeless romantics, Timore checked his feet when Hazumi swept him up into her tempo. He'd been watching the proceedings rather quietly, a slight smile on his face as he enjoyed the music.

Unfortunately his instrument wasn't in the mood to play, it was too distracted by all the delicious smells around it and he knew if he'd played it he may have gotten lost. Smiling a bit as he danced with her, the boy enjoyed the flow of her movement. He had to admit that she was rather beautiful, her light skin, and golden eyes. In fact, he had to say that she was stunning and so he found it difficult to hold her gaze as they danced.

In fact, part of him couldn't believe he was having the chance to dance with such a beautiful woman, even if she was many many years his senior. He could feel his heart beating quickly in his chest, even though when he spoke his words came out clear...confident. “Haha, thank you Hazumi, and I appreciate the dance as well. I...um, feel rather privileged actually,” he smiled at her, a slight flush going across his cheeks, which quickly faded.

As they whirled about the dance floor, the former angel keeping him on his toes, he became increasingly aware of the creeping presence of Metentis. 'Tim...Timmy...Tim...Timmy,' he heard the being begin whispering in his mind. The instrument's voice was barely loud enough to be audible. If it was any quieter it would be beyond Timore's awareness. What Meten? Timore questioned the thing. 'Tim...let me play, play me. Please. Feeeeeed meeeee, Timore nearly twitched and briefly stumbled, his feet faltering a moment as he felt the instrument's hunger briefly wash over him before it was gone again. 'Tim...Timmy...Tim...Timmy,' Metentis continued to whisper, never raising its volume.

Nonetheless Timore did the best he could to entertain himself. He'd have to feed his compatriot eventually, but right now he was somewhere far too public...right?

"The Lighthouse."

---

ANOTHER PAGE TURNED, and the next chapter began; perhaps it would end with nobody getting upset and losing their head. With Mairyell and Aeris Kasio fleeing to safer heights and then taking a dabble into crime fighting, the House of Grim's occupants was now reduced to two: ITZAL SLYRE and Solus Grim. The former's highly antagonistic nature and light-hearted scheme had been too much for the young ones, but the latter was hardly fazed. Which was to be expected, for the stitch-lipped chimera had much experience with the notorious Reaper and knew how to tread lightly around him. Indeed, for his wizened experience and fearlessness (or alternatively, jaded indifference) had been the very thing that kept Slyre from truly tearing into him. For the man's earlier dismal company lacked it, and now they were quite motherless.

But not being one for social niceties, Solus prompted him to get on with it.

"Yes, very well then. I can see you're desperate to know what this is all about," the Reaper crowed loudly, stretching his gray-skinned mouth and flashing his red teeth.

His eyelids narrowed over his black pupils. "But first, let's make sure that nothing here is conducted in vain," he added cryptically.

He then paused deliberately, as if trying to squeeze in one more opportunity to frustrate the Necromaster. But after a moment, he hunched over slightly, his unhooded head tilting as his voice sunk to a lower volume than before. As if he was about to reveal a secret. Bringing his right hand to his chin inquisitively, his white pupils rotated on the outer rim of his eyes like little moons orbiting dark earths.

"Be careful with how you answer, Solus Grim," Slyre asked with unusual care. "Do you love Rina Alice Genno ... or do you not?"

Solus squinted his eyes slightly as he listened to the Reaper. When he received the final question, his shoulders untensed, slumped down a little, relaxed. "I think you already know the answer, but..." He stopped for a moment to decide what he was about to say next. "Yes... I do."

"And do you actually want her back? Even if she's all shriveled up and weak from age?" Slyre continued, tilting his head the other way.

"I doubt you need another skeleton in your closet, Solus," he jested with a sneer.

"An extra skeleton wouldn't hurt..." Solus glumly jested back.

"Why?" Slyre asked simply.

That was when Solus looked down at the ground, at his own feet. Why did he still want her back after all these years? What if she was a shriveled up old bag plugged into a life support machine? But then again, Solus already had a solution for the latter. And having dealt with this individual before him in many of his lifetimes, as well as today while the Kasios were here, he realized that he shouldn't listen to what he says, those extra words he adds to taunt you, make you doubt what you believe. Instead, he chose to look beyond them, straight at the point of his questions, and the true meaning of his answers.

"I... I don't know. I guess... I guess I just want to see her again. I did train her after all. Her not being here feels..." He stopped. He found his answer, and he didn't like it either, just because how pathetic it sounded in his head. "I want her back because I'm lonely..."

The Reaper's anticipating smile slowly faded. Lonely? He stood up straighter, his hands retreating behind his back. His black pupils still trained on Solus's skull, his white pupil came dangerously close to aligning with them. His voice became bereft of silly or teasing tones, which was highly unlike his usual demeanor.

"So is she," Slyre said, almost as if he was struggling to confess that.

Solus noted Slyre's change of tone. He was strangely sincere. It seemed so unnatural and wrong, that Solus wasn't really sure if he could truely believe him, not like he could before. But despite his doubts, the chemicals in his brain forced his face to finally express emotion. His eyes widened in surprise. "Is she really...?" His face showed guilt, and a tinge of sadness.

"Yes," he lied, still not grinning.

Now I've got him. The Reaper was jubilant inside, but he dared not let such mortal feelings surface. Slyre cleared his throat, looking thoughtful for a moment as his right thumb and pointer finger traced the white patch of skin around his mouth, as though he was stroking a full goatee. He didn't actually have facial hair, but it seemed that he liked to play as though he did. His eyes fully turned from Solus, scrying through the ceiling at some unforeseen feature. In actuality, the Reaper was glancing at the immaterial information sinking below the town of Thorpe from a distance. Some demons had been killed by the Kasios.

His smirk returned. "Like I said earlier, you've merited my mercy these past two centuries, Solus," he remarked, glancing at him sideways with his black pupils.

"So I kept the girl alive, even though I was going to utterly destroy her for what she had become," he hinted darkly, his voice sounding almost sickened with the thought.

"Layna had one hour..." Solus said, looking at the body of the dead mother. "I guess Rina gets one too, right?"

The reaper followed the hunter's gaze. A smooth, silky chuckle rasped from his throat. "No, not quite, but that is a good guess," he lied, then glancing back at him.

"I'll give you a free question, I suppose. Layna attempted to cheat me. She wanted one hour to see her children, but oh, Mairyell certainly shortchanged her, now didn't he?" Slyre explained with a nod.

"Do you feel the soul memories seeping in? 'An hour for an hour', hmm?" the reaper asked him, his black pupils glaring at him whilst the white ones looked at ExMortis, so dormant and sleepy.

"I'll owe you an hour of my time, for anything imaginable I'm guessing?" Solus replied.

Slyre cocked his head, his rictus grin conveying his condescension. "Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he stated with a chuckle.

"I'm going to let you visit her for two full hours... in exchange for one hour of your time. It'll start from the moment she lays her eyes on you," he continued.

"Don't forget, though: I have a job for you. And the Kasios, but we'll get to that later," he explained deceptively.

"Because first, I will answer three questions. About anything you'd like. And I will give three straight answers. For free," Slyre beamed, concluding his strange offer.

Crossing his arms, the reaper stood back, looking down at Solus over his nose. What could this strange Reaper be thinking?

"All I ask is that you convey them all in one go," he added cryptically, then pausing, "and do you want to ask them before or after you visit the girl?"

At that point, the pupils of Slyre's eyes aligned: white over black, tiny dot over the large saucers. He peered into Solus's soul with his Abstract Gaze. He wasn't attempting to reap him, but to shake his soul for good measure. After all, if something is too good to be true, is it true? Or is it false? What if it was true, but cast away, being deemed false?

Such trivialities would not be allowed to mess up his grand ascendancy. Not this time.

Solus felt a sudden, deep coldness within him as he stared into Slyre's eyes. Fear swelled within him. He hadn't felt fear in so long, it was like a new emotion that he discovered. It was invigorating, but also terrifying, in all kinds of ways. His mental defenses buckled under Slyre's gaze. His heart was in his throat, and his legs felt light. But Solus pushed on. Attempting to think clearly, and choosing his questions quickly.

"Before." Solus said quickly. Clearly he was struggling. "Who are you? What are you? And... What do you want with me...?"

Slyre loosed a throaty chuckle as Solus aired his last question, and then promptly stepped forward and seized the little god by the throat. The speed of his hand was so fast, it was almost as though it was already there, curling around Solus. Maintaining eye contact the whole time, the Reaper lifted the Necromaster a good 4-feet off the dirty floor. His feet dangling, it almost seemed like being choked to death was about to become a reality. However, his grip was strong, yet surprisingly comfortable; only a feeling of complete numbness beneath his neck seemed to be the most threatening aspect of this intimate contact.

Solus was literally in the palm of Slyre's hand, and the latter brought the former very close, nose to nose.

"To make you better in every way possible," Slyre stated deceptively, but truthfully. "I am the Avatar of the Abstract and current caretaker of the Void..."

Solus's past lives began flashing before his eyes--from every breath he took, every move he made, every word he uttered... all from the beginning, to the end, to now, in a single heart beat. But memories would be fleeting.

"I am Itzal Slyre... the Terminus," the Reaper continued, his voice shaking, "and your wish is granted."

At that moment, Solus's body would become completely numb as he became 1-dimensional in nature. His body and soul compressed into an infinitely small line and entered into Slyre's right eye. The Necromaster would still sense everything around him, but it all zipped by at an impossible speed. Images were blurred, but some were clearer than others as his "travel route" took minor turns into the two-dimensional plane.

He saw Szayeis in the Western Realm.

He glimpsed Lazarus and Mary on the floor.

Mairyell and Aeris during their fine dining.

A man with an orange mask blasting a strange creature in the head with a gun.

Zi in Emmet's apartment.

Hazumi and several blurred figures on a dance floor.

He saw Loom, crumbling, then whole. Then desecrated. In the middle were black figures chasing Lucien.

Then, nothingness came and blackness consumed Solus. Time seemed to have passed in a mere moment. His body uncompressed, his soul wriggled into it. The sound of water rushing, then retreating could be heard. Standing up, looking down, sand wrapped around his boots. A salty breeze tickled his sides, drawing his nose to bear the scent. A crab scurried past him, frightened by his sudden appearance on the beach. And then Slyre released his hold on Solus, letting him be in full control of his body. If he looked up, he would see a single, solitary building a few hundred yards before him.

A red-bricked lighthouse that seemed impossibly tall and pierced the sky.

Its brilliant light sliced through the darkness of the night with every rotation, and the stars above lit a well-trodden path up to the building. But even from this distance, one could hear a distinct but haunting voice, echoing down through the trees and grass. The natural sounds of the water and wind seemed quelled and hushed under the musical tones.

Rina's voice, steadfast and gentle, was singing in an unknown, yet beautiful language: with every lyrical syllable, Solus would feel his heartstrings tugged.

---

COLLAB POST: Synthorian, Mikael

Mary

At Lazarus’ words of there not being anything in Finch’s Loft for her anymore, Mary immediately tensed her eyes going wide. Being kicked out of this place would be a death sentence. She couldn’t survive in this world, and the only other option was for her to be taken by whoever was still after her. Preferably, she would die before meeting her captor again. She relaxed as he explained himself further, and settled down next to her. As he continued to explain, Mary smiling at the familiar gesture, she began to think she understood what was going on. And the idea was appealing to say the least. It would be just like going back to college. Sure it would be a magical college, with who knows what going on, but the general idea would be the same. People going to a school to further their careers in a specific field. It just so happened that this field was magical musicisians. It would be a fresh start. Something new and a way to actually get out of the past and into the world.

Mary felt herself calming down and a peacefulness settling over her. She was unaware that this was Lazarus’ doing but was grateful for it nonetheless. She could almost forget the thing that was inside of her mind and bonded to her soul, and all of the scars that came along with it. Self consciously, she tugged on her shirtsleeves as if to pull them up higher to ensure none of her scars were actually showing. “Well…I’ve always wanted to learn how to play an instrument. And I have to adapt to this new world somehow, right?” The thing inside of her was silent, apparently realizing the uselessness of trying to get through to her with Lazarus’ potent mental walls blocking its way. And for one brief moment, Mary actually felt like a normal human being.

IAN
The asps rattled against the wooden dummy. Hard. The beat was staccato, and had a strange vicious tone to it. The steady Heaven Six count rattled against the wooden dummy as Ian focused on solely the task in front of him trying to block out fatigue and the malevolent presence that came with it. With a twist of his wrist and without missing a single beat the pattern changed to an Earth six followed by a single hand four and then another on his left side. With that Ian switched back to a heaven six with and earth stroke on the third and sixth beat of the pattern. Holding that pattern for a thirty six count he switched to a Earth six with a heaven stroke on third and sixth count. Sweat dripped a crossed his eyes as his body screamed for rest but he ignored it pushing himself harder and harder.

Suddenly the dummy in front of him seemed to morph into a demon out of myth with horns of shadow and wings of fire. It roared with a mouth full of a broken dreams for teeth and the flames of nightmare in its eyes. Its goat legs terminate in hooves which threw up black fire and green smoke. Ian roared a Kiai and crossed his right foot behind his left foot dropped his stance and unwound his stance to deliver a powerful back handed stroke which obliterated the demons teeth sending the fragments of a thousand screams spiralling into the demons gullet. Ian’s left hand stroke from the outside shattered the bones in the demons right leg. Following through with his full momentum Ian unleashed a spinning heel hook with the full force of Ian’s fear and fury driving it into the vertebrae in the demons neck and through the muscle. The kick removed the demons head in a gout of sickening green fire. The splintering of the wooden dummy brought him back to reality such violence I just wanted a hug! Ian rubbed his eyes.

It was approaching the seventy-two hour mark, he could feel Koshmar moving restlessly inside his psyche as fatigue closed in on Ian. Focusing again on the dummy he realised it had been utterly destroyed by his final assault. Splintered pieces of its head and leg were scattered around him. FINISH IT! Suddenly the demon surged back up off the ground and in an arrogant fit of pique Ian launched himself into a back flip and executed a flash kick to the demons newly reattached head. There was a loud crash as the dummy was toppled backward smashing to pieces on the ground as Ian landed on a crouch. With his Asps pointed down, Ian used the force of his impact to collapse both of them against the ground. With that Ian replaced the ASPs in the small of his back as he stood. The Gi he wore was far from traditional. While it was black and he sported the black flowing pants the Gi top was sleeveless exposing wiry muscles along the arms. Ian stood slowly and worked the kinks out of his back. With that Ian turned to the table where he had set out his other stuff. A change of clothes was laid out on the table and for a moment Ian couldn’t remember why it was they were his well tailored set and then it dawned on him he was late for the commencement ceremony for the new academic year. “Crap!” With that Ian unstrapped the Asps dropping then to the ground he stripped out of the Gi and ran towards the showers. Now that adrenaline was running through his veins fatigue deserted him and the presence faded into the background. Ian climbed into the shower in his loft and after a hurried scrubbing he scampered back to the table and began dressing in a frenzy. After Ian finished pulling on his dress clothes he strapped the Asps back onto this lower back. After that he contemplated his other weapons for a moment and opted against any of the blades. Ian did however add the Springfield to the holster in the middle of his back between the Asps.

A decided pause followed this as he eyed Fidrieon where it lay on the table. Ian licked his lips, it was so close to the 72 hour mark, perhaps leaving Fidrieon might help weaken The Nigbhtmare’s rampage. With an exasperated sigh Ian unstrapped the pair of Asps and scooped up Fidrieon, with an expert flourish he spun the flute once on his open palm before sliding it into the holster on his left hip. With that Ian high tailed it towards the academy.

A brisk run later he closed with the Ballroom where by the sound of it the welcoming ceremony had ended. Easing open the door Ian drew Fidrieon with the other hand. Ian picked up the melodies in full swing and with his left hand he brought the flute to his lips and playfully began to add to the melody being shaped. Ian’s strands had an Irish lilt as they snaked there way through the melody being woven by the other students. What the hell, he only had a few hours left before he needed to crash. With that Ian brought his right hand to his flute and with a kick of his heel began to weave his way through the dancers to the beat of the music. Better to enjoy the moment while it lasted. As Ian wound his way through the crowd the meaning of a buddhist Koan involving a man hanging from a cliff by a vine while a tiger stalked on the ledge above and below him suddenly became clear as to why it ended with him picking a strawberry and being happy. Ian smiled and ended a hum and a growl to his notes giving them a dark vibrating tone as he laughed inside. Tonight would be hell but the for the moment, he had picked a strawberry.

Reates Saerne – The Vanishing Butterfly


A room of gloriously monstrous contents was where the alleged madman of Melody's academy currently laid, on his back specifically –staring at the ceiling. He was totally motionless, cept the darting movement of his eerie green eyes, which emitted a strange light.

There was a fluttering about the room, and the sounds of various beasts, some which sounded avian, others canine, and even others...human. Wait, human? Reates turned his head from side to side and then sat bolt upright and swiveled his head on his neck back and forth to survey the room a second time. It had gone totally silent when he'd moved, there were no squawks, or rogue barks, and the human voice had vanished outright.

“Now I kno' me mind's not playin' tricks on me,” the doctor stated plainly, his thick irish accent and quick tone apparent with each syllable. However, when his eyes glanced over the crystal hide of a certain anomalous feline who now laid on one of the many desks in the room a smirk tugged at his lips. “Ah, tryin' to remind me, eh? Well I'll be havin' ya know that there's no need. I hav't forgott'n anything just yet, ya lazy little tyke,” the man said aloud, jabbing an accusatory finger in the air towards the crystalline cat. He took several deceitful steps towards the desk, having risen to his feet by now, before he jumped away and to the side, his arm darting out to nudge the kitty off of its stable perch and onto the floor.

There was a sharp grating sound as its claws extended and raked the side of the metal desk and then the cement floor. The cat meowed, hissed, spat, and then lunged at the professor even as he jumped straight over it and swiveled midair, landing so that he faced the cat for its next lunge.

This time sidestepping the feline, Reates' hand launched forwards and grabbed the cat beneath its little forearms and held it fast. The cat struggled, its crystal body hard and somewhat heavy in Reates hand before he turned to face the cat full on and grabbed it with his other hand, cradling it gently in his arms and petting over its surface till it stopped hissing and began to purr, giving in to his suggestion of armistice. “Now, let's try this again, aye? What was th' reminder ye'd intended on givin' me?”

The cat yawned and squirmed in his arms a moment to get its footing before it pounced onto his shoulder and extended itself behind his neck till its mouth was near Reates ear at which point the cat whispered these vehement words, “You're missing the damned opening ceremony and Abstractis is pestering me, so you should listen before I bite your ear off in an attempt to garner your attention.” The cat then growled, nipped his ear, and jumped off of Reates, landing on its paws, sitting, before it licked itself over, intent on getting the smell of human off of itself.

Reates only smirked and then completely opened his mental channels, having been so lost in thought and observation that he had managed to block the swarm from his mind. Yes Abstractis Imperialis Veritisi? he iterated mentally with an amused and questioning tone. 'Dammit Reates, I have told you time and time again not to do that to me. Makes me think I'm trapped in my own head... there was a fluttering movement that ran over the surface of Reates clothes, making them look as if the clothes themselves were alive.

They weren't...but the swarm sure was, a part of which now rested over the entire surface of his clothing, for the most part. Barring the bottom of his shoes of course, that might crush the poor things, and that'd be a shame. Loss of a friend and a valuable specimen. You're right A.I.V I shouldn't do that...much, tho' I have ta say that yer reaction is rather amusin' myself. The fluttering movement shuddered over the surface of his clothes once more, though it was slightly different, and Reates felt, rather than heard, the swarm scoff at him, causing a wide grin to form on his lips. “Anywho! Now that I'll be fashionably late to tha festivities, I oughta get a move on.” Making no effort to put on dress clothes of any kind, Reates walked towards the only empty wall in the entirety of his considerably large, but rather packed, lab-room.

The other walls were packed from floor to ceiling, covered by bookcases or ESSENCE boards –like chalkboards or smartboards, but based in essence instead-- as well as many many cages of various make. They were more like chambers really as each of them was something of its own unique space and each contained its own unique creature, item, or otherwise aberrant entity. Even the ceiling was covered, though not by anything to obscure it –with the exception of the many different kinds of lights and other emitters that Reates used for a ridiculous variety of purposes. Rather, the ceiling was covered with various mathematical or essencial equations. Furthermore there was an entire area of the room dedicated to the storage of various scientific and magical apparatus that the doctor-scientist-professor-madman used for his research.

Anyways, Reates approached the small 4x4 (meter) space of wall so close that his nose almost touched and as he did so the pendant at his neck hovered forwards, touching the wall and causing it to ripple. In the same moment Reates' essence fluxed in a variety of patterns even as his body fazed right through the wall.

The boom of music began to enter his ears, a joyous, wondrous experience of a tune entering his being note by note as the sound waves became able to hit him at all. After all, he was walking out of a wall. Behind him, if one were standing a single foot away from him, one would be able to briefly glimpse a complex array of sigils in a circular pattern, intertwined and transposed over one another. It was all formed entirely of essence and it flowed and pulsed with a powerful light, a light which was almost as quickly nullified by a brief fluttering that occurred not even three seconds after Reates had half emerged from the wall. Once he'd fully emerged, the edges of his body that had extricated themselves from the wall briefly rippling. The rogue dusted himself off, revealing the presence of several butterflies which scattered and disappeared into thin air, Reates nodded his head slightly in confirmation of his successful transition.

Then, taking in a deep breath, Reates called out boisterously, his arms spreading out wide to either side of himself as he did so, to announce his arrival. “Greetings, students of the academy, it is my humble pleasure to state you, yerselves, and I wonderful friends, allies, and enemies both.” Despite the music in the atmosphere, Reates voice would reach every single individual in the room and with it they would magically know who the voice belonged to and where they were in the room.

Or at least they'd know where he had been, for the moment that he had started his words, the magical scientist would vanish, just as the butterflies had, into thin air.

Whilst cloaked, Reates would walk past people, tapping them on their shoulders as he moved through the crowd, till he reached his primary object of interest: A late comer who he knew was called by the name Ian. The boy was dancing his way through the crowd, flute in hand and at mouth.

With a smirk plastared onto his face, and mischief alight in his eyes, Reates would cease to be vanished, reappearing only a meter in front of Ian, where he stopped moving. With his back appearing to be turned to the boy, Reates waited for him the student to collide with him, bracing himself and weaving essence from his shoes right into the ground. Hitting him would be like meeting an immovable object for Ian, if he ran into him at all. Perhaps the boy had some tricks up his sleeve! Who knew, Reates had only given him a cursory glance and recalled the name and face of him from profiles and personal information sent to him as was necessary.

He had no idea what Ian's reaction might be, but he expected that it would be absolutely delirious regardless of what it was. If not delirious than what else from a sleep deprived human, eh?

Meanwhile, the portal sealed reopened itself, allowing the crystalline form of Rsytreim the feline to emerge. The cat's quadrupedal gait sauntering and lazy in its nature, the crystal beast dashed to the quietest corner of the room and then shifted itself so that it hid its head and ears in its own body, using its crystal body as a buffer for the sound in the room. Why did Reates always have to pick the loudest most obnoxious places to drag him? It almost made him wish that he'd never encountered the human, let alone agreed to be taken in by him for his own safety.

Had it been a mistake? Unlikely, he was fed more than regularly, and no one bothered him unless it was the madman himself, which wasn't all that bad. As such the kitty supposed that the pro's were better than the cons.

With his situation reevaluated, Rystreim drifted off into a light slumber, awareness of his presence somewhat mitigated by the anti psychic aura he emitted.

This itty bitty kitty was not one to mess with.

Kenan Apartments
People are never as they appear… truth beneath the skin is always worse.

Juan

Juan clawed, literally, his way to the roof tops. Brick, mortar, and more crumbled from where his nails embedded into the wall along his path upwards, each movement précised and graceful like some cat on the hunt. Twice the sniper had attempted to dislodge him. Twice the shooter had failed and shortly retreated, the glimmer of the scope lost from sight. Juan just kept climbing, his pace hurried by the near hits. Once his hand clasped over the edge, he threw himself over it and landed feet first upon the apartment’s flat surface. He was still unconcern about his appearance, slightly bloody and shirtless, while his eyes flickered to the street’s other side. His vision scanned across the empty roof space and saw nothing. Juan sighed in slight annoyance.

He twisted about and walking to the far side, his path stopped by the roof’s end. For a moment he braced himself with an inhale before the lanky man started to dash back to start. His feet slapped against the hard surface, each one gained more speed than the last while his breath became heavier in anticipation closer he came to the end. Never once breaking or slowing, Juan’s foot kicked off the roof’s small wall and into the air.

For a few seconds he hovered there. Weightless and definite of gravity as the below, people were mere specks and ants from his great height. It was strangely close to stopping time, a fact he had only experienced once before. His body rushed with adrenaline when his instincts had begun to visualize himself nothing but a blackened smear upon the pavement far below.

Then, when the world remembered its own laws, he began to plummet.

In face of his suicidal action, Juan whipped his hand back and let his energy pulse through it. Fire hissed in a race over his arm, curving until it reached his wrist to stretch out into a brimstone like material and finally shaped into a large chained hook. He jerked it ahead where it attached upon the other building’s side and jerked him onto it. He didn’t land softly. Instead he bend his knees to lighten the impact as feet slide along the roof’s surface, dust and dirt kicked up when he finally came to a stop on his new perch. Rising upright, he flicked his hand again to dismiss his weapon.

Unshaken by his near brush with death his eyes swept over the empty roof. Once…twice, three times total, seeming to ignore the fact it was absence of life on the first pass. Where was Mr. Hotshot? Did he shoot his load and run like a typical one night stand? It seemed that way from Juan’s point of view. Any trace of the sniper seemed to have vanished like air, something Juan knew was impossible. Personally, if not for the fact his mood was soured, he would’ve easily returned to apartment where he was positive Zi and Emmet having some dirty and sweaty fun. Yet he didn’t like to risk the killer trying a second round or having done all this work for nothing. Grudgingly he reached into his back pocket where he drew a small, red crystal. It had cost him two bags of Emmet’s blood and small wad of cash, but it should do the trick. After all, it wasn’t like he was lacking the materials for barter to replace it. He had Emmet, monthly, rotate his blood with fresh samples else risk it going bad so often the older blood was used for needed supplies though other demons. Sometimes it included…other services as well.

Juan’s fingers wrapped about the small crystal as he bit his finger, oozing some of his demonic blood on it. In moments it glowed a bright white revealing there was an angelic essence within his area. He unceremoniously held his hand open and allowed the tracking crystal to lie on his flat palm. It spun. Around and around it went, its shape blurred in place before suddenly it stopped. The black pointed behind him, like a compass needle, its surface flashed urgently.

Without a second to think, Juan’s body bent in half and kicked a knee backward when the sniper’s fist lashed at the back of his head. He gave a snarky grin when he felt the satisfying bone crack followed by a male’s yell. “Bad move, little bird.”

Quickly Juan stepped away for distance and twisted about mid-way in his retreat. He finally got a brief glimpse of the young man, the very one who had tried to shoot him twice and managed to nick Emmet, only to see a gun appear within his hand. Damn it…why can’t they make it easy? Juan complained.

All he could catch was the burst of sparks when the bullet left the chamber at him. Reflexively, Juan shifted his shoulder, last second, as the bullet whizzed by. It scratched him on the path past and drew his thick, tar like blood from his veins. His lips pursed for a moment then widened into a catty grin. He wasn’t worried about other demons scenting his blood, imp or higher, because he knew how it smelt. Like tar and garbage as a vampire companion once described, an utterly disgusting odor. On the other hand, the taste could’ve been another story. He rushed towards his attacker to prevent another shot taken.

In a fluid motion, he released his chain and wrapped it six times about the youth. The gun fell from the angel’s grip during his struggles, his arms tried to rip away any the strong binds which held him in place as he grimaced at Juan. The older man just shrugged the efforts off, much to the angel’s rage. No longer threatened by flying bullets or having his face bashed in, he kicked away the gun then paused enough to absorb the young man’s face fully to memory. Made of mostly lean muscle, the kid certainly looked about between sixteen and eighteen, the later seemed more accurate. His outfit was a simple blue jeans and t-shirt with a large sports jersey over his thin frame. If it wasn’t for the patch over his right eye, the other swirled in intense blue with hatred, and the three recent scars puffed over the same side then Juan would’ve considered tapping that. Pity it also included the fact the bastard shot him too.

“Ah… finally, I get to see who’s fucking me face to face. You know, a guy could feel unwelcome waiting around all this time.” Juan said in a snide tone, yet his voice was kept smoother then velvet. “So, cutie…mind explaining who sent you and why? Or need I start show how rough I can get?”

“Tch. Keep your filthy hands off me, demon.” came the angel’s expected reply, his struggles redoubled only to cause the chains to tighten. Naturally the boy was green enough his face had turned to his gun’s direction, betraying his thoughts.

That was all it took for Juan to respond. He pulled himself into the personal zone of the bounded half angel, his left hand snaked out viciously gripped a fistful of the black hair and he jerked it down into an uplifted knee. Warm blood from the contact told Juan he had managed to bust the nose, a loud crack was just the sweet cherry on top to ease his frustrations. Juan allowed his satisfaction surge over him like a soothing aloe. Smooth, simple… and effective.

Immediately the angel’s figure crumbled into the roof, first to his knees until he was hung upright by his hair which Juan promptly released. The boy fell onto to his side. Not concerned if he had killed him, Juan crouched over. His sense of smell was overwhelmed with the copper scent’s strength. An intoxicating one which had made his mouth salivate, his demonic nature eager to rip and tear into the wounded attacker at his feet, but held in check by his disgust of its…brutality. Juan kept his tone light and friendly, almost a mockery air in it when he spoke. “I’ll ask only once more, in a different way: Who sent you and why?”

The angel instead motioned behind and uttered two words. “Back pocket.”

Juan raised a confused eyebrow in question then jerked the angel onto his stomach. He reached his hand into the pant pocket, his mind alert to any tricks or traps. He was cautious as he felt the outline of something thick and flexible under the demi fabric. Slowly and delicately, the demon managed to pull a small, aged leather cover book from its grip. He held it up to examine it and righted himself to standing straight once more. The leather was wrinkled and cracked, nearly appeared to falling off at the crease, with a strange symbol branded in black over the front. A sense of recognition washed over Juan and apparently his face showed it by the angel’s next statement.

“What, you son of a bitch. Don’t recognize your damn little book?”

“My, my, did the bird do a little light reading?” Juan asked though he couldn’t stop the curiosity leaking into his voice. “You can’t be serious and tell me this little book is the reason you attacked me, is it? I wouldn’t think you angels would understand its physics after. Not to mention it is such a pitiful reason to get my attention. There’s much more interesting ways, naturally.”

“Sick fag, should be burning in the afterlife or crawl under a rock. What you tried to do…” The boy tried to jerk his head over his shoulder to face Juan, his eyes burned with righteous fury and renew his struggles.

“So you understood its principle?” Juan rolled his eyes then took a closer interest. “Very few do. For most, it would’ve been nothing more than theory and the details…utterly terrifying.”

The angel, still lying down on his front continued to keep his head lifted and repeated his grimace. “I might be young but I’m not stupid. We were taught about essence, what it was, how it was important to the world and what was made of it. I might’ve had to look a few terms up, here and there but I understand the concept. How could you even attempt such a thing? What you did in Project Re-Genesis, if more angels knew… if the Council had any idea of your experiments, then there wouldn’t be place which to hid your sorry ass for long.”

“Re-Genesis…” Juan seemed to repeat the word, as if the sound would stir a faded memory. He held the book between his hands-the one still attached to the chain- while he flipped through its onion thin pages. It wasn’t easy. Several times he thought he would rip one and shattered the magic preserving spell on the book then and there. If he had, there was little chance to save its legacy. He hadn’t seen it over 200 years after all and time hadn’t been kind to everything else from his hay day.

“Why? The hundred humans volunteers you willingly sacrificed and all in order to create…create what? A new race, a better way to eliminate my kind, or just the stupidity to play god with human lives? What good is a race if there’s nothing to show for it but dead bodies?”

“To improve our own race and not all of them died. At least one survived. He managed to have bloodline which spawned over two-hundred years, each showed more magic potential then the last. Only time will tell if my current subject has brought my work to any fruition.” Juan hadn’t bothered to scoff his answer in protest. His sly, cocky attitude seemed to have evaporated like water in the desert. The reason for this, be because of the book’s presence or the past mention, he wasn’t come completely sure.

“You disgust me. Your race? You’re not human anymore. That isn’t your race anymore. Now you’re just the very thing you hate. You can’t serious believe your work was a success. It can’t be. Do you know what damage that would cause? To mankind? Even to the very world itself?” Venom was thick in the angel’s words, taunting and spiteful, as he shifted his heavy body to ease the pain scratching at his belly.

Juan let his smirk return, faintly. “I hold no illusion over what I am now. I’m a filthy, vile little thing but in the end, I still managed to serve a greater purpose towards humanity with my studies. Despite what I am or ever become, I still hold a responsibility to ensure the human race isn’t over run by the likes of you or me. So I can only hope this latest generation might show some little promise. Besides, those little fears you show are nothing more than theories. No concrete proof unless my subject expires unnaturally.”

He took a breath in his pause then continued. “Since you brought my past up...” He looked closer at the angel, his foot pressed into the angel’s back middle to keep him pinned. Juan’s eyes had a sharpened intensity to them now. It was if a carefully placed mask was lifted to reveal the snake lurking underneath. “If you have little objection, might I request you tell me where you acquired it? My precious research?”

He noted the angel fought a flinch, an expected reaction, and patiently waited for an answer. His free arm had folded behind his back as his posture stiffened into a ridged one. Dread locks shifted across his narrowed eyes, slightly impatient yet enjoying the effect clearly. “Come on. I merely asked a simple question, boy. Can’t you enlighten me?”

Insulted at Juan’s comment, the angel held his silence for a bit longer. Too stubborn, a credit to his own race, but Juan had little time to play games now. Not if he wanted to get back to work. Another task which had been added to his list since his intrigue to figure out Emmet’s companion’s, Zi, knack for manipulating the angel’s essence. Oh yes, he knew that scent well enough to know it was at least angelic in origins. It could’ve been a number of reasons of how or why she had such a thing in her procession, however, the longer he dallied, the less chance he would have to understand it. There was a slight chance maybe her presence could help him discover Emmet’s true potential. If he had any.

He sighed at the arrogance of the hybrid angel, mind shifted into the present task. His hand placed his book within his back pocket while he grounded his foot deeper into the back. The angel gritted against his actions then edged into painful whimpers, shortly after came cries when the spine finally gave way. Crack! Juan smirked in delight to hear the pitiful yells emitted by the stupid whelp who had shot him earlier, a deeper and darker bit wanted to sink his teeth in. Easy… easy, not yet you filthy, greedy bastard. Juan coaxed more patience out his inner demon before he lifted his foot. The chains had left impressions as the little bones within the wings had also suffered.

The angel was now a whimpering pathetic ball. Juan allowed the angel hybrid a few minutes to gather what was left of his dignity, noting the ruffled and dirty boy was unable to move anything below his waist. For the interrogation, Juan had purposely paralyzed his prey which meant he had little more to fear. He lifted his foot, and leisurely pull back while he made a jerk on his chain that unwrapped itself, leaving the sniper on his back. Juan eyed him carefully. Most the grey was bloody red and feathers crushed; the fragile bones cracked and explained why the angel hadn’t gone for a head on assault. He was more human than angel as proven by his frail wings, possible merely an offspring between the two.

It took time for the angel to collect himself. Grunting through the fire burning within his body, he began his retelling over where he found the little book. Even with his mind riddled with agony, his tone was a mixture of gasps and disgust in his words. “I found it in the caverns in Brazil, deep in the jungle. It was a few years back, sealed away under the ground and in some odd…contraption. It already killed three of us when we forced it open. It was how I lost my eye and got these scars…something. It was fast, impossible to get away until…”

“Ah, the price paid for unlocking it. Next time, you might consider the consequences of such rash acts when you attempt to unlock a hex box. Especially one with a hell hound guard dog.” Juan answered indifferently and recalled how the demonic mutt had likely been starving during all that time. He continued. “Oh well, try not to allow the price your friends paid be wasted because of your vanity and utter brash decisions. Currently you’re dangerously close.” There seemed to be some pleasure in Juan’s voice, despite the iciness, during the last statement.

“Ptuh.” he spat or tried to, on Juan and winched.

“Wasting your breath and spit. Nice way to increase your suffering, isn’t it? Hope it was worth it.” Unconcern with the angel, Juan had folded his legs up and settled into a sitting position. The book was out again as he began to skim a few more pages. After some time reading, he narrowed his attention on a key paragraph. It was data from test subject 0, where his thoughts lingered until finally something clicked. After some time had passed- likely close to a half an hour- he snapped the book shut then jumped back to his feet. His eyes lowered hungrily over the helpless angel whose eye widened in panic. Juan’s nostrils flared in excitement while he stepped closer, the angel used his arms and hands to slide himself away.

He only took a few meagerly inches before Juan slammed his foot into the hybrid’s side and kicked him one again onto his back. The boy whimpered in reply. His body’s reaction crippled by the pain as he fought to be stronger then he really was. It sickened Juan’s demon half to no ends, his boot planted hard into the sternum where he made a hairline fracture. Juan was done playing now. It was time to feast and his inner demon couldn’t wait any longer.

His chain had long since vanished while he leered over his meal. “Well, I think our little chat is over.”

“P-please. Ahhh, don’t.” Fear had finally settled in the youth’s eyes, the presence of fear and adrenaline drove a nail of desire within Juan’s soul.

A desire to consume the angel’s essence. It was the primal need of all demons no matter how good they claimed to be, a fact none could ever hope to escape and their curse for being what they are. Abominations all of them. Juan, his mind lost in thought, just let go and his dark half went to work. He made a dark grin in reply to the angel’s pleads then jerked his fingers, now longer and sharp, at his prey’s chest. Instinctively, the youth lifted his hands to stop Juan. Sadly, he wasn’t a battle angel and so, lacked the strength to hold him off for long. Driven by primal nature, Juan increased his aggression. His muscles flexed and coiled, his nails inched slowly closer to the chest. It gained easily more and more ground until the tips broke through the cloth, followed by the skin. The boy uttered another shrill sound with his last lungful of air when Juan’s tips hooked in, the fingers pried the flimsy flesh apart. It revealed the opening along with the bloody white ribs beneath, the damage visible despite the gore, the demon relentless in his digging. Juan wanted something particular: the angel’s heart.

The angel’s hands still feebly tried to shove Juan away, at least until the demon snarled in impatience then detoured centimeters from the heart. He reached a hand though the opening and headed to the left where the shoulder was on the inside. With a fast, skillful jerk he busted the collar bone and jerked it free. The crackling bone filled Juan’s ears while his pointed teeth showed in a grin, than repeated with the other. Soon the ribs were easily broken, dug out from the skin case, while he continued his feast on the still living angel. Only when Juan was face deep and eaten over half of the inner organs, save the kidneys, did he feel the boy die. Most believed the body dies when the heart is destroyed, but the brain still remains alive for a few minutes, fed by energy and panic to prolong the ultimate fate. The body shuddered and went cold. Shortly, no evidence other than the untouched kidneys would remain.

He never liked kidneys, a nasty after taste and all that.

While his teeth chewed the last of the stringy, savory meat off the remaining splintered rib bone and sucked the soft marrow inside, the demon sat upon the roof’s edge with a single leg hung over the street. His skin was stained by his messy eating, a thing born out of his habit to binge eat essence. Despite his demon nature, Juan didn’t accept it as a part of him. Instead he saw it more as parasite to tame and train. Never did he indulging in gorging himself on essence unless it was a reward or needed to remain in control, a necessary evil in his life. He wasn’t like those filthy monsters that accepted themselves and made a pitiful peace with their beast, driving their humanity away.

Finishing the last of the marrow off, Juan thoughts drifted to the pity he hadn’t had the forethought to bring any Chardonnay along. After a bit of angel, it was the closest he ever came to a little taste of heaven.

Oh well… he still had a few things to do before he rejoined Emmet.

"Righteous Reunion."

---

Solus fell to his knees after his body rematerialized. Breathing heavily, he clutched his throat, the feeling of Slyre's cold hand wrapped around his neck lingered for a while longer. He swallowed hard, pushing his free hand onto the sand to help himself up. Getting on his feet, he took a look around. He was standing on a beach, looking directly at the ocean, and the horizon where the extent of his sight ended.

He turned around, to see a tower... No, a lighthouse made of bricks that seemed to pierce the clouds. How has no one noticed this? He wondered. But that thought was broken by a voice, echoing from the top of the lighthouse. Solus listened to it for a few moments, before recognizing it. "Rina..." He said out loud, as if he was trying to convince himself what he was hearing was true.

As if in a weird lapse of panic, he scrambled forward towards the lighthouse, almost tripping over himself several times on the way to it. He passed what appeared to be a hole in the ground with a ladder leading deeper into it. Beside it, sat mining equipment, the usual, ranging from a pickaxes to a few buckets to move dirt out of the hole. There was also a cage with a canary in it, though it didn't seem to notice Solus' presence, or perhaps simply didn't care. He noted his strange find, and moved on. Eventually, by following the well lit path, he got to the foot of the lighthouse, and its entrance that awaited for him to open it.

Solus placed his hand on the handle with care, in case the door suddenly decided to blow up in his face. Nothing happened of course, but what surprised him was that the door was unlocked. It saved him some trouble at least, but that fact irked him.

He stepped inside.

Solus was greeted by a flight of spiral stairs, going all the way to the top. But as he looked up the gap of the stairs where he could see the light, he noticed that there were rooms on every floor.

He began his climb.

He ascended two steps at a time, and he stopped at every floor where a new opening into a room appeared, he peered inside of each despite hearing Rina's singing from all the way at the top. As he ascended he saw living rooms, kitchens, a multitude of bedrooms. How many beds does this girl need? He asked himself as he continued. But what was the most curious thing was that every room was filled with pictures of her, portraits, smaller ones on desks, and others of her with other people, mostly humans, some demons, and a couple angels. She was smiling in all of them, as were they. The question of who took those pictures lingered in Solus' head. Perhaps there were others here that Slyre took away from the world, left them here until it was their hour.

The more he ascended the stranger the place felt. Every stone and hardwood floor was scrubbed clean to a T. You could cook off the ground here. The candles in the rooms he passed were arranged accordingly, well away from anything flammable. He knew that Rina liked to keep things clean, but this was a step up. Perhaps boredom finally got to her.

He could smell food too. Though he had no need for food anymore, it smelled something divine. He passed the kitchen where it originated from, and noticed freshly plucked vegetables, with the soil still clinging to them. From the looks of the amount of ingredients used, it was a meal for two.

The flood of thoughts and the overwhelming feelings that flowed through him helped pass the time as he climbed, until finally he reached the final floor, just underneath the constantly turning light. The singing was strongest here. He sighed, he only had two hours...

He placed his hand on the wooden door, and pushed gently, slowly opening it as to not disturb her.

And there she was, with her back to him and hands on the rail. Also behind her was a ladder that led to the lighthouse device, which powerfully swept through the night like a cleaver. With every rotation, she was briefly seen in darkness, then in the light; as if she was pulsing between the two realms of those elements. Her attire seemed simple enough: muddy black jeans with rips and tears here and there, along with a white, heavily stained blouse tucked in. Her feet were bare, but dirty. It seemed as though Rina had been working for a long time.

From the angle of his approach, the side of her left face hinted at maturity. Even her height had increased, nearly matching Solus. She was certainly no old bag of bones that Slyre hinted at, but indeed, she had grown, perhaps looking to be in her late 20s. But 200 years had gone by. Odd.

Her eyes remained closed, her mouth continued gesturing the lyrics of the strange, unknown song. Her voice trailed around the man, pulling at his heartstrings like a skilled musician. But other than that, she did not seem to notice that she had a visitor.

"That's beautiful..." Solus said, somewhat sadly as he looked upon the figure of Rina.

Her song immediately ended at the praise, but her eyes still remained shut. Her head lowering slightly, her brow rubbed up in frustration, as if she was unnerved by what he'd just said. Or perhaps she could hardly believe it---that he was here. Her hands clenched the railing harder, bringing out the whiteness of her knuckles under starlight.

Suddenly, the rotating device above them hummed loudly, and then seemed to die down. Complete darkness engulfed them for a moment, until their vision adjusted for the ample amount of the stars and moon peeking behind the clouds.

"Ugh, that damn thing," Rina muttered with annoyance, shaking her head as she turned to climb the ladder and fix it for the 3rd time that day.

Solus watched her intently, even was unsure if she was real. Her expression at his remark, told him volumes, enough for him to speak up again. "Rina..."

She froze, her hands and right foot on the rungs of the ladder. His voice again. She caved, having long learned to ignore fabrications of her memories and longing for him. Or so she thought. Sighing, she glanced over at his direction, his oh-so-familiar bodily outline illuminated by stellar light. She squinted at him, as though trying to discern if he was really there or not. Could it be...?

She swallowed, her entire body starting to react to the actual presence of someone there. His breathing tickled her ears, and her hairs stood up on ends. She looked down at the mud and sand he'd tracked up here. Even his scent caught her nostrils up into a flare. Hoping against hope, her lips parted in the darkness...

"Solus?" Rina asked, her voice trembling and nearly breaking.

"Yeah..." Solus replied. "Long time no see..." He suddenly felt something shake in his trench coat pocket, which he was sure was empty. He put his hand in there, his fingers feeling glass, and a wooden frame surrounding it. It had the shape of an hourglass. He pulled it out and looked at it, inspecting it in his hand, turning it from left and right, and up and down, but the sand, continued to moved into the empty portion of the hourglass. Well, at least he gave me a timer... He put it back in his pocket, and looked back towards Rina, watching her.

She'd stepped forward away from the ladder, his words drawing her in, almost into a fascinated state of being. The green flames of his eyes, nostrils, and mouth bathed her face in an eerie illumination, but it only served to harden her hope that he was literally there. Her eyes made out a small object in his hand. Another hourglass? Between dealing with the absolute fact that Solus was actually standing before her and seeing that hourglass, Rina decided to touch first, ask questions later.

"12 years," Rina replied, nodding in agreement as she placed her hand tentatively on his chest.

She flinched, half expecting to pass right through it. A sob snared her throat, and she pulled away from him, covering her face with both hands. Her shoulders trembled as her body swayed dangerously in place, as though she might fall over the railing.

"Please... be real," she cried lowly.

That sob broke him. He flash stepped towards her, in a blink of an eye, his arms were wrapped around her, holding her tightly, as if she would disappear again. "I'm real, Rina... I'm real." His right hand reached for the back of her head, his fingers gently running through her hair. He wished he had the power to cry, but it was something he lacked. But has it really been only 12 years for her?

Suddenly engulfed into his strength and firmness of body, Rina nearly fainted. Her knees bent like wax as she clung to his torso feebly. I'm real. The promise etched into her heart at the moment, giving her courage to look up at him. Her teeth bit her lips as her tear-streaked face once again met the green-flamed light. She lowered her head again, wiping her tears on his chest. Then, looking up again, she smiled that lopsided grin that she'd given him many times during the months of her training over 200 years ago.

"I promised myself I wouldn't cry since you can't, Solus," she explained breathlessly, and trying to stand on her own two feet.

That was a feat in and of itself since she had absolutely no idea where the ground was. Or the sky. Or the lighthouse for that matter. Solus, and only Solus, captivated her attention and enraptured her soul with sheer, almost painful bliss.

His fingers ran from her hair and caressed her tear soaked cheek. "I... I don't know what to say..." His brain froze, unable to process anything intelligible to say to her. "I lost hope..."

An involuntary purr escaped her at his touch, shaking her down to her core and below. "I..." she mumbled through his words, quieting for a moment. He lost hope. It was a thought that had crossed her mind some years back---that he'd have given up on her. Logic surfaced briefly, trying to concoct some excuse for him like all girlfriends do at times.

"Well, the Surface is big; Can't imagine being able to search it all in such a short time," she offered, smiling up at him and caressing the right side of his doll-stitched mouth.

"The Surface...?" Solus asked rhetorically as his eyes began to roll back into his skull. "God damn it. What a fool I was. For 200 years I searched everywhere but the Surface..."

Rina swallowed hard again, struggling to understand his words. 200 years...? Her head tilted as her eyes darted left and right, trying to figure out if he misspoke or something. But his anger quelled any courage of speaking up, and she looked away at the floor of the outside platform. Confusion and embarrassment stretched her face.

"Slyre you son of a whore... Hid her right under my nose..." He closed his eyes and sighed. After a few moments they opened again, observing Rina's confused expression. "...You said that it has been 12 years for you... While it has been two centuries for me... Are you sure it has been 12 years?" He asked Rina slowly.

She nodded slowly at first, but then sank her shoulders, shaking her head. "I- ... well, I tried to keep track of time, but... after a while, things started to not make sense. Like, the sun and moon, and the stars, too. Plus people I spoke to mentioned certain years and dates," she rambled, caught up in her bewildered state.

"But in the end, I decided that I just didn't look that much older. You know? I mean, look," she added, stepping back to let him examine her body at the height of its blossom .

"Do I look 200 years older to you, Solus?" she asked him, smirking with her hands on hips.

Solus broke into his usual, deep chuckle, amused by her sudden change of attitude to the Rina he remembered. "No, I'd say you look about... 28."

She beamed. "I've thought so, too," she nodded, but then a wayward thought struck her attention.

Slight panic skipped across her face and her teeth clenched. "Crap, the light," she mumbled, turning away to climb the ladder.

"Need to crank it to get it go--waah!!" she explained before suddenly slipping in front of him and failing to grasp the ladder for support.

Solus quickly reacted, catching her by her hips and lifting her up. His hold was gentle, loving almost. He guided her body towards the ladder, giving her a more comfortable reach for the rickety thing that she needed to climb. "Are you ok?" His voice echoed right beside her left ear.

"Y-Yes!" Rina warbled, curling her toes. With her new-found balance, she grabbed the rungs again. Climbing up, she looked back at him, "Thanks. Just give me a moment," she smiled, letting her ascent's swagger draw his mind if he cared for it.

Sounds of furious cranking could be heard above, but indeed only a moment passed before the lighthouse resumed its guiding function. Rina then reappeared and zipped down the ladder, her grin testifying of delight to be back with Solus. Letting her hair down with a flourish, she led him back into the interior without so much as a beckon or word. Down the stairs and into the main kitchen, she donned an apron and took a couple pots off of the burners.

Another man then strolled carefully into the room from a hallway beyond (and under the stairs). He seemed a little older than Rina and wore a freshly ironed suit, with polished shoes and combed hair. His movement suggested something was off, for he did not even look at Solus at first. Rina glanced at Solus wistfully, biting her lower lip to stymie her rising nervousness. Bringing a finger to her lips to beg his silence, to which Solus quietly nodded. She then trained her gaze on the other man with an air of honed professionalism: kind but detached.

"Finding your way, James?" she asked politely.

Solus remained silent, like asked.

"Oh, in more ways than one, thanks to you, dear. You've been nothing but a blessing to this lonely old man," he replied with a rasp, and gripped the chair before which a plate (his, presumably) had been set.

"You're welcome," she replied sweetly, and just to make sure that Solus understood, she mouthed to him: He's blind. Solus' face lit up with acknowledgement in reply.

He sat down, easing into the chair comfortably. "The smell here is delicious, Miss Grim," James noted, his clean-shaven smile growing and his hands patting the table with hungry eagerness.

Miss Grim... Solus thought to himself, quite amused by it all.

Rina winced at the praise, but only because the real Grim was here now. She tried very hard to not meet Solus's eyes, but her flushing face revealed the truth: she had been telling people that her last name was Grim. Whatever for, was a question Solus would have to ask her later.

"It is your last meal," Rina replied, hoping to steer the conversation to a close, "so I've made this one extra special."

She quickly poured the guest (perhaps?) a bowl of gumbo and then a glass of wine of some kind. She guided his hand to his spoon, patting it as she walked away from the table and gave Solus another (embarrassed) smile. She seemed eager to leave, but then she glanced back at James, and her brow furrowed. James seemed to be glaring at Solus, albeit his eyes' vacancy merely suggested a concern in the man's general direction. Solus, in turn glared back at him, completely ignoring Rina's nervous face. It is your last meal... Solus had a hunch as to why this man was here. But he would ask Rina later.

"James?" Rina prompted.

"Quite. Oh yes, I'm sorry. But er... is someone else here, dear?" he asked curiously, tilting his head.

"No," she replied sharply, then sighing. "Well, just don't worry about it. Today is your day, James, and your hour will come at the knell. Please excuse me."

James nodded and dug into his food. Rina then took Solus by the hand into the hallway that James had exited. With haste, they passed by an opened bedroom, where the bed was messy and unmade. That bedroom only confirmed his hunch. It was a shame that Slyre put her in this position. Keeping old men company in more ways than one during final moments in life. Perhaps Slyre pitied them, pitied their lifelong loneliness. She was back in the pit it seemed, and now Solus knew what all those bedrooms were for. A job's a job, he guessed. Further on, and in private now, she perched on the edge of a black sofa in some kind of lounge. A stark white door, slightly ajar with a golden handle, could be seen across the way; nothing but darkness could be seen in the crack. Rina glanced up at Solus expectantly, slight worry in her searching eyes, perhaps at what he might be thinking about all this. I hope I don't have another one today, not while Solus is here...

"I'm due a break now actually, so there shouldn't be any other interruptions," she finally stated, her voice quivering with excitement; or was it fear?

"Miss Grim, huh...?" Solus asked her with a childish grin on his face as he took a seat beside her. Despite the many other questions he had, this one was the most important to him, she used his name after all.

She met his grin with relief, sighing gently through her nose. Nodding, she curled a stray lock behind her ear and gathered her thoughts. She scooted closer, too.

"Well, yes," she replied meekly with a nervous chuckle. "It was kind of awkward actually, I got called things and just, well, I mean--I needed an anchor, you know?"

She looked down shyly. "And your name is what kept me grounded the most."

Great. I had a whole speech prepared for him, and now I just... I... really should have written this down, actually. She opted to lean against the sofa, instead of him, as she waited for his response. Her fingers played with each other across her belly.

"Grounded..." Solus thought on the word, but couldn't really think of a reason why she used it. "So that old fellow... Is he some kind of..." Solus searched for a word that she would understand the meaning of, and yet it would not piss her off. "...client?"

She glanced up, sensing his confusion. Her mind was already forming a way to explain as he spoke, but then a hard lump formed in her throat. Client. After all this time... two hundred years for him (and twelve years for her?), he thought that she'd just buckle and go back to what she once knew as a mentally-warped child prostitute? She sat a little straighter, staring hard into his right knee before lightly shaking her head.

"No," she whispered, and then swallowed. "Not at all."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it, causing her tender shoulder to rise into his palm. "Ok." He nodded taking her word for it. But her reply said otherwise to him. He felt like an asshole just for asking it. "Sorry, I just... I shouldn't have said anything..." He let go of her shoulder and placed his now free hand on his knee, which her eyes followed as she nodded. An awkward moment loomed over them both as he thought about the next thing he was going to ask, hopefully one that wasn't so stupid. "You can tell me anything... you know that?"

Placing her hand on his hand, she leaned close and nodded. "I do, and it's okay. I mean, thinkin' about it, I'd probably wonder the same thing, too," she smiled, returning the same gentle squeeze.

She eased into a hug, wrapping her arms around his torso and rested her head on his chest. Her unbound hair splayed over him like a silken baby blanket. She closed her eyes for a moment, just merely resting as her breathing calmed down. "Was it hard? Without me..." she asked him.

"It was..." Solus replied, causing Rina to hug him tighter. "But that doesn't really matter now." He continued. "Knowing you're ok is enough for me to keep going..." He paused for a moment as he decided to change the subject. "So what exactly is the point of this lighthouse anyway? Apart from it being a lighthouse... One doesn't normally have so many rooms."

She blinked, sitting up a bit and leaning more into Solus. "Umm..." she mumbled, thinking of a way to put it simply. "From what I can understand, it... guides the dead here."

She glanced up at Solus, her eyes filling with awed confusion. "And... they have problems," she continued, glancing away embarrassingly, "and I've basically just been comforting them. Helping them come to terms with their... brokenness, I guess you can call it. But they don't remind me of ghosts or zombies, or anything like that, Solus. I wasn't told what to do, I just sort of knew..."

She sighed, really not liking her own explanation. "All I was told that if I leave the island or if the light goes out, I will surely die," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Oh, and as to the rooms, I dunno. They were all here already. I've only kept them cleaned."

Rina glanced up at Solus, wondering if he wanted more information. "He seemed very much alive to me..." The man said, remembering his senses kicking in as the old man entered the kitchen back there. "So what do you mean by brokenness exactly?"

She sighed lightly through her nose, but the challenge of this was refreshing compared to her day-to-day routine. "Right. Well, let's see. It's like their body is alive... because I feed them, right? But inside, they... are dead. Broken willed. Their spirits were just out of there. And I... I guess I felt a sense of duty to just take care of them, talk to them. You know? Comfort them. And..."

She glanced at the white door before them. "When the knell strikes, that door opens and they leave. That's all I know. An' don't even ask me where the knell is, I've tried to find it. No luck at all, really," she chuckled.

Retreating back into his protective arms, she fingered his stomach through his coat, making little figure eights and trailing creases to flatten them out. I hope that satisfies him for now, because I really have no clue about this place. Long as I've been here, it's still a mystery.

"I see..." Solus said thoughtfully as he realized what she was talking about. "You mean Shattered Souls..." Remembering his broken self, and how he used such souls, as they seemed to be the only ones he had a chance to grasp when he practiced his necromancy. People who had suffered throughout their life, were left broken.

"I... guess?" she replied, somewhat confused, but then her body tensed up as some memories surfaced. "Though not ... not all of them made it..."

"What do you mean?" Solus asked curiously, his hand reaching for the back of her head.

She gave him a long look, the irises in her pupils swirling. Glancing away, almost closing her eyes. "Nothing dramatic. They just... stopped moving. Truly dead, I thought," she explained, her shoulders sinking. His caress gave her strength, so she continued. "I dug a grave. Well, catacombs, I think they're called? And... I buried them in there... that's all..."

"Hmm... A place where the dead go to die..." He said to himself in thought. Slyre's title crossed his mind. The Terminus. He brought her here to comfort the dying in their final moments. Well it was his theory, a shit one at best. One worth considering, though. "How do they leave?"

Rina opened her mouth, but then a long, deep knell struck. The sound echoed throughout the room and actually seemed to be coming from behind the white door, which then opened completely. She clutched Solus, almost digging her nails into his coat. She didn't normally hang around when this happened, and in fact, this was the first time she really saw the door open. The space beyond the door was sheer, foreboding darkness, and suddenly a huge black chain (which seemed eerily familiar) zipped out of the door. It dashed through the air soundlessly and out of the room, and Rina's jaw dropped. A moment later, James came stumbling down, a smile on his face like he knew all along what was going on. His hands clasped with manacles, the dark chain gently guided him to the door, pulling him within.

The door slammed shut with finality behind him... but then opened again, leaving itself slightly ajar. Rina's forehead was ebbed with sweat beads as she stared ahead of them.

Chains, green and flaming, just as large as the black one that appeared from the door, quietly crept out of his sleeves, causing Rina to flinch back but then watch with interest. The familiarity of the black chain drawing them towards the door. They inquisitively poked and prodded the air, as if they were smelling it. Eventually they arrived at the door, creeping towards the crack that showed the darkness beyond.

Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. "Solus!" Rina gasped, seizing his arm. "Please don't..."

"It's ok..." He said as the molten links got closer to the darkness, green fire licking its way along, spewing heat into the room. Soon the 4 chains passed into the darkness, only to suddenly create a monstrous metal scream, quickly shooting back where they came from, into his arms. Fast enough to miss them if Rina blinked; however, the sound alone made her jump off of the sofa, with her back to the wall and arms spread out for balance.

"Why you gotta scare the crap out of me?" she hissed at him, though not truly upset.

Solus looked down at his hands, unsure of what the hell just happened. "They never done that before..." He took a mental note to look into it later.

She smirked, shaking her head. "Well let's get out of here, please. This is actually my least favorite room, I... c'mon," she fussed, taking him by the hand and jokingly dragging him out of the room.

Back in the kitchen, she pulled out a rocking chair and guided Solus into it. He could probably tell that she was used to bossing people around in the lighthouse. She then began putting dishes away and cleaning the dirty ones in a soapy basin. "So what have YOU been up to, Mister 200 years," she joked, still not sure of what to make of the discrepancy between their different perceptions of the time that had passed.

"Anything you wanna know about the outside world before I begin?" Solus asked.

For some reason, the question unsettled her. Perhaps because she had never been able to observe the outside world. Though she ran a lighthouse, she'd never even seen a ship pass by. She wasn't even sure where the mainland was that this lighthouse was supposed to guide ships to. Her hands in the hot water, she pondered a moment.

"Well, I guess I've gotta ask... has 200 years really passed by out there?" she asked, before turning her head over her shoulder and gazing at him with almost sullen eyes.

"Yeah... It has. The old mansion you remember is an overgrown ruin now..." He answered. "The maps have changed... Angels and Demons live together in an uneasy peace, to my surprise... Madagascar is under the sea... The list goes on really. I only returned to the Surface a few days ago myself."

She nodded as she continued washing a plate. "Hmm. Then my uncle had long since passed away," Rina remarked curtly, as if she'd just added the minor crime of jaywalking to a list containing genocide, rape, and murder.

"I was hunting Iotans for 120 years... And I never found him." Solus added. "Who knows, maybe he's still out there." Solus' flaming chains finally came back out again, though a little more timidly this time. "Iotan chains have a slight side effect of agelessness..."

"Do they?" she replied coldly, clearly bothered by something. Putting the plate in the dish drain, she went to work on a coffee cup. "What else have you been up to, Solus? I wish I could say my time here was exciting, but it was mostly just work and..."

She paused, glancing out the window, which almost nearly reflected a complete image of her. "Self-reflection," she added with a wry smirk.

"I was hunting the Iotans in an attempt to find you. I hoped that they had some answers, but they all turned out to be duds..." He added, the feeling of guilt slammed into him again. How was he so damn stupid to not even think of searching for her on the surface? "Before that I fought in the War. Don't know if you remember it. It was when He took you... It started just before then. Killed a five thousand year old ghost who had a sword made out of a demigod inside him. Then I worked with a Vampire for a while, trying to help him find his sister. That didn't really work out..." He paused, remembering that merely less than an hour and half ago, they were finally reunited.

"Then I began hunting the Iotans like I mentioned earlier, trying to find you. That led me to a place called The Subatomic Plane. But that also ended up being a dead end... Then I went to hell... Searching for a way to die..." He stopped there.

Rina listened to his fascinating tales quietly as she resumed her work. Some of the details were fleeting, but that was alright. She knew that she couldn't pretend to understand it all, though she sorely wished she could have been there with him. Then again, she wondered how things might have turned out if she had? Would it really had been for the better? She came to terms with her isolation a long time ago and she really enjoyed who she had become. But she never forgot Solus. Not once did she give up hope, though he clearly had given up on her. But she was not about to rub that in his face, because what if their positions had been switched?

A memory struck. I once saved him from those Iotans before, didn't I? She pursed her lips thoughtfully as she put the last dish away. His last comment then drew her gaze to him. He wanted to die... she sighed, nodding. She had wanted to die, too. But her experience with the broken ones here completely wiped out any sense of self, for she realized that there were people with bigger problems than her own.

"Come, let me show you around," she smiled sweetly, her eyes piercing his soul with love and affection. Or so she hoped.

"Yeah, let's go." He replied with a weary smile.

For the next 10 or so minutes, Rina escorted him, their arms in lock, everywhere, starting at the top. She explained that guests had different tastes in bedroom styles, and that they mostly just slept when they weren't eating or ruminating over their lives. Sometimes she had several at once, and had to keep some of them separated lest they fight and bicker. She showed Solus a library, filled with dusty tomes and scrolls. She told him that she had looked at each one, and only a few of them were in a language that she could understand. A few of them, however, were autobiographies, and seemed to talk about the previous caretaker of the lighthouse. It was how she came to have a better understanding of her purpose here.

Down on the ground outside she showed him a mining shaft that she had dug, having read a book on geology and mining that piqued her interest greatly. Several kinds of ores and rocks were under this island, and she had experimented with them all. Which then led them to her makeshift forge, though its smoke and flames were long gone. Several attempts to make guns were plastered on the wall, which she embarrassingly admitted was just for fun. Next, she showed him a garden, full of exotic vegetables and fruit that seemed to thrive on this island. She told Solus that someone had already made the garden, and she had merely needed to weed it before it would grow.

Lastly, she showed him her bedroom, which was located at the base of the lighthouse. It was simple, but personal, with several drawings and paintings tacked to the walls. There was one of Thorpe, with a man standing before it, whom she said was supposed to be her uncle. Some of them were even of Solus and the Mustang, and the House of Grim. She shyly told him that she thought of him every single day and spent a few hours practicing her memories, she called it. In other words, reflecting what he had taught her and committing them to memory lest she forget.

She led him to her personal study in the corner, where she had practiced her magic over the years and honed her skills. The conversation shifted, then, to that of Slyre, and how not once did she see him here or hear from him. He'd merely dropped her off and reminded her that she would surely die if she left the island or let the light go out.

"But don't think I didn't make a boat or two," she added, exhausted somewhat as she sat on her bed and beckoned Solus to a chair next to the night stand. The candles in her room burned slowly, and in the windows, one could see the powerful beam of light slicing through the darkness over the tireless ocean waves.

"They were certainly seaworthy, but I never found the courage to actually leave," she continued, crossing her legs. "Of course, once I realized that the... guests were going to be a thing, I just focused on them... and their problems."

She nodded, complete with her story and feeling fairly satisfied. Her eyes glanced up at him under slightly battering eyelashes.

"Well..." Solus said as he pulled out the hourglass from his pocket, checking the time. He had one hour left. "Just because Slyre gave me an hourglass, doesn't mean I didn't come without a plan. Or several."

"That's my Solus," she replied coquettishly, tilting her head as though she wanted to hear more.

But then a thought came to mind, and worry stretched her face a bit thin. "Do you think you can beat him?" she asked carefully, clearly having a point to bring up once he'd answered.

"I don't intend to beat him, not fairly anyway. But if my first plan works out, that won't really matter anyway." He replied. "You see... He offered me two hours, for one hour of my own time, and a specific job. I don't know what the job entails just yet. But hopefully I can convince him for either more time, or your permanent return..."

Rina's eyes glassed over as he mentioned the words 'hours', though she merely blinked, nodded, and continued listening. She pulled her legs closer to her, laying on her side as she rested her head on her large, velvet red pillow.

"I see..." she whispered, then looked away. "Perhaps he wants you to kill someone. I've thought of why he took me... and I thought he was going to rip me to pieces..."

Her lips trembled, but she persisted strongly. "He certainly had the look to do so, but it seemed as though he realized something, and then took me to the lighthouse."

She glanced up at him. "The lighthouse wasn't our first stop. I think he took me to the Western... Realm? It was particularly hellish, but that was all he said," she added, nodding lightly, " 'Welcome to the Babysitter's home, the Western Realm.' but I've no idea what that all meant."

"Yeah..." He didn't really know what to say to that. "Do you have a vial?" He asked quite suddenly.

Smirking at the odd request, Rina rolled off of her bed and swaggered over to a closet. Opening it, one could see a few plants inside that were being allowed partial sunlight. The earthly smell of hanging, dried roots and herbs filtered into the rest of the room. In a tiny wooden box, she withdrew a clean vial. She handed it to him, her brow rising with curiosity.

Solus took it his hand and inspected it in the light. It seemed to be good enough. "Now I will need a clean syringe, and a wine cork."

"You're awfully specific, you know that?" she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her nose into his face.

"This is important, Rina." His tone was firm. There was always a time for intimacy, but it was not now.

Little did she know the truth of that fact. "So is this," she countered, kissing him squarely on the spot below his eyes and above his mouth. But then she obeyed and retrieved the requested items from the same closet.

"Now alcohol and cotton. And before I forget, a tourniquet." He quickly stated as he inspected the syringe and tested the wine cork, seeing if it fit into the opening of the vile, and it did so perfectly.

"Um, 'kay," she replied, leaving the bedroom. Her footsteps could be heard zipping up the stone stairs, but before long, she returned with a flourish. "I've got this place memorized!" she giggled.

"Perfect..." Solus added, taking the items and placing them neatly beside him. "Now I need your arm." He said to her, his eyes piercing into hers.

She blanched. He could have just told me he wanted to draw blood... Sighing lightly, she cocked her eyebrows and rolled her sleeve, offering her arm like it was a piece of meat. On her skin, very faint traces of glowing runes could be seen, along with her veins. She stared right back into those eyes of his, completely undaunted by his seriousness. If this had been 200 years ago at home with him, it would have been like a determined bunny trying to give a hardened wolf its meanest death-stare. But now she was something else, not even a wolf.

Perhaps a lioness.

Solus noticed her return stare. She really had grown up, and not just physically. He gently took her hand, which she smirked at, and his rough palm slowly ran up her forearm, his thumb prodding the skin for veins. The runes on her skin were a curious sight, they only existed within before. He wrapped the tourniquet around her bicep, to push the blood down her arm.

Solus scooted a little closer to her as he placed the needle of the syringe on the vein he chose, not breaking the skin just yet. He looked up at her, straight at her lips, thought it was always difficult to tell what he was looking at. Suddenly his jagged lips collided with hers, drawing her into a deep kiss as the needle broke the skin, and pushed into the vein. His thumb pulled back on the plastic piston, her blood, which glowed slightly from the sigils on every cell, flowed into the syringe. Rina was certainly distracted by the man's considerable trickery, but she welcomed it greedily. After they parted, she hazily looked down at what he'd drawn and only felt a bit woozy for multiple reasons. She perched on the bed just in time.

"What happened?" she asked him, squinting at the syringe.

Solus placed the syringe into the vial and pushed down on the piston, ejecting the blood into the glass, and sealing the vial with the cork. "That should do the trick." He said as he pocketed the filled vial.

He looked at her woozy face, removing the tourniquet. A small dab of blood emerged from the prick, but it quickly ended there. "I drew some blood so I can track you with it. Hopefully I'll find you that way." What he didn't tell her was the purpose of the kiss. A small portion of the Black Tar that pumped through his body, entered hers, and it would be there for as long as she lived. He hoped, that it would eventually reach her spine, in doing so it establish some kind of connection between them. And as he would search for her, he would be following a 'hot and cold' trail. The 'hotter' it got, the closer he was to the parasite.

She stared at him, glancing at something over his shoulder before looking back and nodding. "Clever. I was hoping for something like that," she remarked with a smile.

The calendar on the back of her door had also drawn her sight, reminding her of her futility of trying to keep time here. Time. She pressed forward, glancing at his pocket. "Wait, how much time is left?" she asked him.

Solus pulled out the hourglass, and stared at it intently. "I think we've got a good 45 minutes left," he said, relaxing more into his chair.

"Mm." Rina nodded, tilting her head in thought. Something to do, he's already seen everything...

"What do you suggest, Rina?" he asked her.

She pursed her lips. "Let's..." she began before the light-beam device lost power again, fading everything in the room to black.

"Fuck!" she cried.

---

Light cracked into the window pane, which had been opened half-way to let fresher air inside. The candles had gone out. Breaths in sync relayed back and forth peacefully, dreamily. They held each other, lightly cuddling on their side under a thin bed sheet. Rina hadn't really slept, as she mostly just basked in the feeling of their coupling heat.

Solus wasn't sure where to start, especially after that. So he started with a gentle, "Hey..."

"Mmm, another go?" she asked lazily like a content little kitty.

Solus took a glance at the hourglass on the bedside table. There was very little time left. "We have 5 minutes left..." He said with a sigh.

"Time is a bittersweet thing, isn't it?" she asked, her strength growing to keep him closer.

"Yeah..." He replied, running a hand along her back, his fingers tracing her spine.

"I'm scared, ... Solus," she replied, lightly squirming against the tickling sensation.

"You're not the only one."

"I know..." she whispered and hugged him once before she let him go to dress himself.

Regrettably he knew he had to get up. It was an unfortunate necessity. Parting with Rina's warmth was like parting with his skin, and deep down it was painful. As he rose, she watched him admirably as he picked up his belongings and donned them. This wasn't Solus' fastest attempt at dressing though. The sadness of leaving her behind for a second time was killing him inside. Rina could actually feel the full weight of his heavy heart resting inside her own, dragging her inward to consider her own sadness. But for what it was all worth, the essence he'd left behind and their entire 2 hour visit would sustain her for many months to come.

She hoped that it would sustain him as well.

"Until the Next, my love," she whispered wantonly and held out her hand to take his, which, he, of course, took without hesitation. But that 'fare well' phrase sounded familiar, he just couldn't pinpoint where he'd heard it. He thought nothing of it. "I'm not giving up this time. Now that I know where to look... This isn't goodbye."

She nodded and let him take his leave of the scene of their most righteous reunion. I am so happy.

Solus didn't dally, for if he stayed longer, the less he wanted to leave. So he quickly dashed out of her room, and out to the beach of the island. He looked straight up at the quickly fading stars. Not much time. He thought as he pulled out his phone. Turning in the camera and quickly snapping a panoramic image from the horizon to 90 degrees above his head. And as he pocketed the phone, the hourglass in his clutched hand shattered, and the sand particles crawled up his arm. It enveloped him entirely in less than a moment and then shrunk him down rapidly.

The sand of the hourglass remained on the beach as Solus was returned to the House of Grim, only to find Layna's body gone, the blood cleaned up, and the "fake" bomb disposed of. At his feet, he would find a little white card, carefully placed on a piece of junk so that he would see it.

It read:

'To Whom This Should Concern,

24 hours from now, we shall meet.

The location is your choice.

The promise of certitude is mine.

Sincerely,
D'

As Rina observed Solus's exodus off the island through her bedroom window, she pulled her bathrobe fully over her, fastening its belt. It was another day, but it would be unlike any other.

A large, white-gloved hand carefully placed itself on her shoulder. But she didn't even flinch, as though she'd sensed the stranger's presence beforehand.

"Well done," a rich, dutiful voice remarked.

She didn't reply, but her eyes fell to the floor with anticipation of their future.

---

COLLAB POST: Synthorian, Mikael

Ian

As Ian came out of his turn he slammed into a man who had seemly appeared out of no where. The force of the impact should have floored the man but he didn’t even budge. Ian had time to take it all in, in the few seconds before he crashed to the floor hard. His fatigued brain couldn’t even comprehend what had happened as he sat on the ground. Tasting blood he realized Fidrieon had smashed him in the mouth. With a grimace Ian levered himself up off the ground and looked at the man he had smashed right into. He didn’t even appear phased in the slightest. How the hell was that even possible? Ian was no lightweight, in fact he weighed in at a solid 190 pounds of almost pure Martial Arts muscle. And this guy hadn’t flinched.

Ready for anything Ian brushed his hair out of his face. “My apologies for running into you friend I didn’t see you there until it was far too late. You’ll have to forgive me I have had a rather long day.” As Ian took in the man in front of him from the way he stood to his dress he concluded that he was probably as nutty as the rest of the people at the Academy and that this was going to be a far more interesting conversation than Ian probably wanted to have at this juncture.

The Academy's Embrace

Aeris' wings beat furiously, pushing her quickly forward. She could already see the Academy's main building in front of her, and the iridescence of her blue eyes brightened.

To say she was excited was putting it mildly.

She dropped from the air to the ground with a soft thud, and entered the Academy, taking in all that was around her. Once she was inside, however, a woman in a security uniform stopped her. "Ma'am, do you have identification?" The woman's voice was polite but stern, and Aeris, distracted by the ornate beauty of Master Melody's had to pull herself out of her thoughts about the architecture before she was finally able to answer.

"Mm? Ah, yes! One moment." Aeris voice was light and happy as she began searching through the inner pockets of her hoodie. After a moment or two, Aeris pulled out her ID and watched as the security guard used a device to scan it.

"Everything seems to be in order... please proceed." Aeris heard the woman speak, but she was already halfway down the hallway searching for the ballroom.

The room itself wasn't particularly hard to find, considering the amount of music that was coming from it. Little Kasio stood outside the double doors for a bit before finally pulling one slightly open and slipping inside. The music that hit her when she entered caused her to pause. Wow. She thought to herself, listening to the combination of all of the students' instruments. All save for one. In the middle of the ballroom, there was a boy, dancing with a woman. A woman who Aeris recognized immediately.

"Hazumi." She said almost wordlessly, "She's looking beautiful as always." She smiled to herself as she complimented the Motherslayer, making her way closer to the dance floor.

Hazumi laughed at the boy's flushed cheeks. “You feel privileged? Pity you weren’t born some 200 years ago, back then you could’ve held me in my full glory. I wonder what you’d have done with me then, Timmy?” She grinned.

As the words flew from her mouth and into his ears, Timore almost stumbled again, his face flushing a much deeper red as they danced. His eyes darted down her, up again, unable to help, but look at her. Her presence was intoxicating somehow and he could even hear Metentis quiet down and feel the wonderful flow of essence that practically dripped from her being. Apparently the instrument though her delicious...and Timore couldn't help but agree, though in a different sense entirely. "I...um," he bit his tongue slightly and winced, looking away and then back several times before laughing nervously. "I-It's hardly my place to say such things," he said nervously, his eyes barely locked with hers and his heart pounding even faster in his chest.

“It was just curiosity.” Hazumi chirped non-chalantly. “You don’t have to answer. But back then I would have offered myself to anyone who asked for it. And not only to the good guys." She winked. “Be careful, power is intoxicating. It makes you arrogant and reckless.”

"Like a certain Lord we both know, Hazumi?" Aeris chimed in, only catching the last bit of the conversation as she walked toward the woman. "And by that I only mean the arrogance part." The vampire clarified with a coy grin.

Her eyes fell on the boy with whom Hazumi danced, and she smiled at him in greeting. "Hello, nice to meet you." Her voice was soft and musical as she spoke, still partially engulfed in the beauty of the music around her.

“Aeris!” Hazumi exclaimed as her spin gracefully brought her dress to a stop in front of the young woman.

Little Kasio smiled as Hazumi spun toward her and stopped, curtsying to the woman politely. "Seems the ceremony is going well, I'm sorry for being late," There was a pause as she tried to think of what she wanted to say. Deciding on telling Hazumi the truth she smiled a little wider, the happiness of her almost oozing from her body, giving her a slight glow. "I found Mairyell."

Hazumi's eyebrows rose in surprise and she felt tempted to inquire about the details. It wasn't often when she overlooked an event and that wasn't just any random meeting. Still, there were more important things right now and plenty of time for curiosity later. Smiling again, she gestured to her dance partner.

“Tim, meet one of your future teachers. She’s got quite a story to tell. One of dark castles and distant wastelands~” She grinned at Aeris. Something about the way she said ‘waste’ made it sound terribly like ‘west’. “She’s travelled to the end of the world and back, you could say.”

As Hazumi disengaged and spun over to the newcomer, Timore found his heart set alight once more as another beauty entered his sight. 'Man...I'm going to have a damn heartattack at this rate,' he thought to himself as he tried to figuratively swallow his heart so it'd get out of his throat and back into his chest. "Um...hi there, Aeris? I'm Timore," he walked over, smiling with a mixture of awkwardness and nervousness in his eyes and posture. He wasn't entirely sure how to conduct himself around them, so he figured he'd just do his best to act as confident as possible --as difficult as that was.

Meanwhile Metentis slithered and hissed in his mind. He actually felt the instrument shift a bit on his wrist causing him to put his arm behind him, appearing to bow slightly to Aeris in a show of respect. However, his arm stayed behind him after the bow, making him look slightly distinguished. He didn't want Metentis giving anyone a bad impression of him --especially since most of those impressions would be lasting due to them being the first ones.

As Hazumi introduced her to the student she was with, Tim, she turned her glowing sapphire eyes on him, their warmth brightening the glow slightly. "Ah, Tim? Well, it'll certainly be an interesting year that's for sure." The girl blushed a bit as Hazumi played up what she had been through to make it a little less... dark, mentally thanking her.

"Oh, it's Timore? What a wonderfully interesting name." She blinked as he seemed to bow, curtsying in response, her Brisn casting a faint blue aura around her body as she straightened herself. The boy seemed nervous, to which she mentally laughed. It was kind of cute.

Returning her attention to Hazumi the girl's embarrassment returned slightly. "Ah, Hazumi, I was wondering, is the library that he once owned still around? There are some books that were there that I'll need for my class." She spoke, obviously trying not to say the Western Lord's name out loud.

Hazumi nodded with understanding, a tinge of seriousness crossing her face. “Many of the books have already been transferred to your suite. Some others which seemed a little bit more harmless are in the common library.” She glanced at Timore before she suggested. “Would you like me to take you?”

Timore blinked several times at her responding curtsy, and then smiled a bit wider, seeming pleasantly surprised that she'd returned the gesture. However, when Hazumi questioned him, Timore turned to her and tilted his head, looking slightly confused. "What do you mean?" He asked he, wondering what the woman meant. Meanwhile Metentis was practically fine dining on the emotional essence emitted by the two beauties. If it had had a face, there would have been a wide cheshire grin upon it, with manic green eyes to suite.

In short instrument and musician were both enjoying themselves, because of the same people, but for different reasons. Still, Metentis wanted more, always more. 'Timmmmoooooreeee!~ The boy winced and then glanced away from Hazumi appearing to smack his arm and kill a fly, even though there was none. "Pesky bugs," he said before turning back to the two with a slightly apologetic air about him. Internally he responded to the serpent, 'Yes Meten?' he thought with a slightly annoyed tone. 'Feeding time soon. Soon...Soon...SOON. NOW. Hurry child, we must have our prey. Draaaaiiiiiiinnnneeedddd. Let me drain the-... Timore wanted to grind his teeth, but made sure not to, his face displaying the same smile and slight confusion even as his internal voice snapped at the serpent. 'Quiet! You know we can't right now,' the serpent quieted, but within the confines of its instrumental form, filled with the myriad essence that had been devoured by its personality, the being hissed.
Very well, the serpent thought away from its musician's mind, where he could not hear him. It seems I'll need to discipline you again, little human, the black holes on the flute that now masqueraded as a bracelet, lit up with a stirring green light before dimming to an almost black green. No one defied Metentis, especially not Timore, his little surrogate.

Tim's question confused Hazumi. Replaying her actions she wondered what had caused his reaction. It must have been the glance she threw him. Obviously it was just a non-verbal question if he'd excuse her if she showed Aeris to her room. It was after a whole second when her brain reminded her of the other meaning humans put into visiting each-other's rooms. It made her lips twist upwards and she had to tighten them to prevent them from splitting into a knowing grin. However the atmosphere quickly changed as Metentis gave Tim his warning and despite not hearing it well, Hazumi had no doubt about their communication.

"Careful." She said simply, her eyes piercing the snake.

Timore's smile faltered for a moment before he nodded, "I'll do just that, Hazumi. In fact, if it's just leading her to her suite or the library I could help her with that. After all, I don't have any friends here and I'd love to escort two beautiful ladies." He smiled again, and winked, his awkwardness fading very quickly. What he was not entirely aware of was Metentis fueling his emotion.

Aeris watched as Hazumi's face changed to a more serious one, and she offered to lead her to her suite. "That would be wonderful!" She chirped softly, her head tilting to the side for a moment when she heard Timore offer to lead her as well. To this, she smirked slightly.

Though, there was a blush to her cheeks as she started to speak, "Oh? Well, I'd be much obliged if you would be so kind. There are a couple of things I haven't gotten the chance to see in the Academy. One of them being my room, and the other being the Library." She giggled a little looking at Hazumi with a warm smile.

The boy was definitely more confident than before, which she found rather interesting. Absently, she wondered what he would be like when classes picked up. As she stepped back to allow the two to guide her she gave a small smirk, looking toward Timore.

She wasn't sure she had seen someone go from being ridiculously nervous, to an almost Casanova in a matter of seconds. And if she had, it was long ago.
Curiously she thought back to Mairyell, wondering how he was fairing on his side of things, and what he would think of this particular situation. She even wondered if he would drop into her class the first day for some support. She would definitely need it.

Hazumi grinned at both children, happy to see them interact in such a friendly and civil fashion. It might seem natural for most humans this day and age, to be less presumptuous of the other races – to the point where some were evidently ready to court a demon as lightheartedly as petting a poodle. And just as carelessly, mind you. In the minds of the old ones, though, the ones like Hazumi and Aeris themselves, this treatment was a privilege they wouldn’t have deemed possible sometime prior. This brief interaction was the fruit of over a hundred years of hard work for the Academy. Through much diplomacy and no less bloodshed, this institution had become a safe haven for any individual of any race, and its influence had spread even outside the building. It had spread to the hearts of many and Hazumi couldn’t be happier.

“Your room is in the East wing, Aeris.” She said, throwing the girl a knowing glance over her shoulder. Although she only knew the briefest outline of Aerises experience in Hell, she had personally made sure to get her a room further from either the west or the south wing. Timore’s offer to escort them amused her greatly, mostly because of the mystery of how exactly he knew where they were supposed to go if it was only his first day as well. "I can show you to your room as well, Timore, if you remember the number." She joked, implying that he should sleep in his own room tonight, no matter his desires.

The boy rolled his eyes at Hazumi, one hand still behind his back to conceal the faint glow that was being emitted by his instrument. "I had every intention of doing so, Hazumi, but thank you for the offer," there was something of a challenge in his tone, but the majority of his demeanor was respectful, with the exception of the slight shifting in his stance as he subtley rocked from one foot to the other. This betrayed his nervousness somewhat, as it was in fact still present, despite the fact that it seemed to have fled. The human was not as in control as he appeared to be, and it was more thanks to Metentis and his own adaptation to the situation, which had facilitated the gradual change from nervous to confident --which was closer to his norm really. "Anyways," Timore said, giving Hazumi a look, "I only intended to escort her to the library, since I'm not entirely sure where her room is myself," he said, his smile turning a bit sheepish as he refrained from rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

It turned out that he was trying not to betray the somewhat drastic mood swings that he sometimes suffered because of his companion. While he was not entirely successful in this, he figured, it did him well to keep up at least an appearance of continuity in regards to his personality and mood, at the very least for the benefit of others. That was his opinion on it at least and while one might've thought so, Timore saw no problem with this, thinking that it was entirely natural. He of course was not naive to the fact that other people didn't seem to rapidly swing between emotions, hence his...cover up, but he never really thought much of the fact that he was --in a way-- manipulating how people saw him via tempering the changes he himself suffered. It was something of a problem, though he didn't yet know it. Perhaps someone else would notice someday and offer some advice, but who knew what could happen.

Aeris smiled intently at the two that stood near her, her eyes intently changing between their faces. It had been a while since she'd actually been treated as if she were Human. The last person who had done so, ended up just wanting to use her for what she was and thought that was the best way to get at it. It would have been true if she hadn't figured it out. For a moment her eyes trained on Timore, she vaguely wondered if he could sense things that weren't Human. Surely the Academy would teach him if he couldn't, right?

When Aeris heard where her room was located, she let out an audible sigh of relief, her face calming even further. She was glad she wouldn't have to be reminded of her stay in Hell every time she went to her room. Absently, the vampire looked around the room, noticing all of the students and their parents, it was a little overwhelming, but her excitement was still prominent. Her head tilted at Timore's strange behavior. Once again his demeanor had changed... odd. "Hazumi? It's all right for me to bring Lisara to my room when I move, isn't it?" The girl questioned The World, her hands folding in front of herself as she tried not to play with her own hair. Nervous habits, she thought to herself, starting to balance on the heels of her feet.

"Oh! Timore, I was wondering, how old are you?" Her query was mostly innocent as she was trying to gauge the average age that her students would be. However, there was another motive behind it, one she would be unlikely to share until the end of their tour.

Not ignoring how quickly the little Romeo turned competitive, Hazumi checked Aeris’ expression to see how she was taking it. Timore’s subtle mood-shifts told her that he wasn’t any real threat should he desire Aeris’ company in out-of-office hours, and so she didn’t really deem it necessary to pursue the issue. Furthermore, it was very rare that major offences happened between the Academy’s walls and so their rules about more… human practices were pretty lax. Unless someone took someone else out, of course. Be it due to a swollen eye or a swollen belly.

Then Aeris came back to and asked if she could keep her pet, the Hell-hound she had heard about. She waved a hand in a dismissive gesture and reassured: “Of course, as long as it doesn’t eat any of our lovely students, feel free.”

Watching Timore battle with his nervousness and Aeris utterly ignoring it, put Hazumi in an interesting predicament. She could either ignore the boy, leaving him feeling misjudged and slightly offended, or trying to comfort him. Grinning, she chose the third option of attempting to completely throw him off-balance and patted him on his back in a strong, almost manly gesture.

“Why, I think you should come with us all the way. After all, one of your first jobs here is to make friends, right? What better way than knowing your way around the place. God knows when you might need such knowledge!”

Smiling back at Aeris as she presented her query, Timore laughed lightly, submitting to the impulse to rub the back of his neck a bit before returning it to his back, making it look as if he were clasping his wrist behind him comfortably. "Twenty one, why do you ask?" His response was polite and somewhat curious, though it did not show any significant change in his demeanor. However, he did note the various emotions in Aeris' voice and aura as she asked him, he decided not to think much of them. Granted, it did not help that his synesthesia was being pressed quite heavily due to the multitude of people in the room.

If it hadn't been for the fact that the majority of the stimuli was positive, he'd already have a rather severe migraine. Instead, he only felt a small pressure building behind his eyes, as he had for the last while. It didn't seem to get any worse unless he started really focusing on the essence around him, which he was making a conscious effort not to do. "Oof," Timore exclaimed before giving Hazumi a bit of a rueful smile and then glancing back at Aeris and nodding, "Sounds like a plan, haha. I suppose it'll help me get a better grip on the Academy's layout." His eyes twinkled a bit as he seemed to relish that idea about as much as he enjoyed being in the presence of two beautiful women. However, it was also the mention of a certain Lisara and while he didn't know who that was, he got the distinct impression that whoever they were happened to be a demon. This didn't seem to bother him at all as he hardly reacted.

Metentis however, still concealed behind his arm, seemed to flare slightly in a mixture of interest and disgust. The being tended to react this way in regards to other demons, specifically hellions. The musician had yet to figure out why.

They were walking down the main hallway. The ceiling was at least 3.5 meters high, the floor was covered in a lush purple carpet and the walls were entirely covered in dark wood. There were no windows here as the hallway cut across almost the entire length of the Academy but the soft dim glow of a hundred wall lamps made the space feel cozy like a winter night by the fire. The doors on each side blended in with the wood and only the details of the ornaments and the golden labels set them apart.

The walk through the halls of the Academy would be quite a long one, given the size of the building, so Hazumi filled it with chatter. She hadn’t expected to give a tour around the castle-like school but didn’t particularly mind either.

“So this is the main hallway. It connects the ball room, the library and the refectory. Those are all on your left handside, in order. Then on the right we have some function rooms for students’ events, some computer rooms and a little movie theater. Above us, on the second floor, are the classrooms. Then, on the third one we have all the archives, the administration and the storage rooms. We also have a basement and a courtyard, where you’re allowed to have picnics or romantic walks at night. It’s entirely enclosed within the Academy’s walls.” She explained, taking a right turn through a door that proved to be a masked walkway. Passing through another door they found themselves in another hallway, parallel to the first one, aside from one wall of it featuring tall windows. There was a pair of doors right in front of them, grand and majestic, covered in a myriad of tiny woodwork scenes. Hazumi pushed one of them open and revealed the courtyard – a beautiful mixture of stone and green. “As you exit through the main doors in the middle of the building, which are these, what remains on your left is the gymnasium. We have two – one is this one, the other one is the special training gym underground. On your right you’ll find the student dorms, and straight ahead – the pool and the spa.” She threw Aeris a glance and winked. “As for your rooms, they are right this way.” Even though they looked closer, the dorms proved to be quite a walk away through the courtyard, however no one really minded. It was still warm and the scent of the last flowers and the first dying leaves was filling the night air. The woman led them through one of the multiple doors to the dorms and to a door that had a golden label with Aeris’ name on it.

“I hope you enjoy the interior. Timore, yours will be just a few doors down, the first one without a name on it.” She grinned meaningfully and Timore had to wonder if that was a real coincidence.

As they walked through the school, Aeris' eyes gazed upon everything with a whimsical sense of wonder. "Whoever built this place had exquisite taste." The vampire mumbled to herself as Hazumi began to tell the two where everything was in relation to the main hallway. Admittedly, the layout of the school sounded confusing, but she was sure it wasn't too bad in practice.

The longer the walk took, the more Aeris' mind wandered back to what this would have been if she were Human. She probably would have needed a break if she was the same as back then. The image that appeared in her head at this thought caused Little Kasio to softly giggle. To be honest, she was mesmerized by the building in which she found herself.

When they reached the door to the courtyard, Aeris probably seemed to lose a few years on her age as she stared in wonder at the beautiful garden-like area before her. The Gymnasium Hazumi mentioned seemed relatively small in comparison to the buildings that surrounded it. Though, anything as simple as a square brick building would have looked small in contrast to the extravagance of its surroundings.

When Aeris heard there was both a pool and a spa, she let out a wistful sigh, smiling warmly at Hazumi when she winked.

Absently, the vampire's blue eyes traveled over Timore, trying to read his reaction as they neared the dorms. She was still wondering what he thought when she saw her name on something in her peripheral vision.

The door to her room.

Little Kasio went from confused to beaming. She reached for the handle of her door, however, as she opened it. she paused. "Timore, I have a request." She spoke softly, warmly, as she turned her head to look at the boy once more before she went inside.

"Tomorrow, don't ruin my fun." She flashed him a playful smile, winking at Hazumi as she stepped inside her room with a gasp.

Her hand released the doorknob, allowing the door to shut softly behind her.

Holy shit. Was the only thought Lisara heard.

As they strode through the Academy, Timore's eyes were lit up with interest and, to some degree, wonder. The place certainly lived up to its reputation. In fact, the first two words that came to mind were lavish and extraordinary. Still though, at the end of the day they were just a series of buildings. Despite the gradual decrease in interest, Timore's eyes remained on Hazumi as he made sure he did his best to memorize the layout. It'd be good to know his way around as he rather hated getting lost.

Part way through their fairly long walk Timore noticed Aeris' eyes on him, but he made an effort not to meet them. She seemed to be gauging his reactions, he could tell by the look in her eyes and the colors around her. However, it wasn't just those thing that notified him of her activities, it was the fact that her actions were ones to which he was quite familiar.

When they finally arrived before the girl's door, and she made a request of him, he smiled lightly and nodded, though with a slight confusion in his eyes. He watched her enter her room, the door shutting behind her, before he glanced to Hazumi, bowed his head, and departed. He didn't feel the need to stay any longer, in fact, he needed to be gone --Metentis demanded it. As such the boy entered his dorm room, changed into some less conspicuous clothing, and then departed the academy, to which he would not return for the majority of the night. Metentis needed to be tended to, and Timore could wait no longer, that was simply not the way of things...unfortunately.

Reates Saerne - The Vanishing Butterfly
Loom - The Academy
Midday

Ahh yes, the baggy eyes, the failing mind, though the boy did not see worse for wear. The oddest thing however, was not Ian, but rather Reates in this case. After all, if he was facing away from Ian, how had he known he was there, and how had he been able to tell such tiny details?

Long story short: he wasn't actually faced away from Ian, it was all a rather elaborate illusion...of sorts.

With a brief fluttering motion, Ian would see the image of Reates flip going from its back facing him, to the front doing so, with the teacher's lightly glowing green eyes trained directly on Ian's, a smirk plastered across the man's face. "Aye, ye did, but I don't blame ya fer runnin' into me, not much anyways. It'd be a darned crime to blame a lad for somethin' so dubious to begin with," he laughed at what most would have to consider some kind of crude inside joke, crude not in its nature, but crude in its construction.

Essence removing itself from the dance floor, Reates took a step towards the student, his eyes alight with a mixture of friendliness and mischief. He raised his arm and hand to help Ian brush himself off, before appearing to squint at the boy's lip for some time. After a few moments of this, the green eyes glanced over to Fidrieon, the instrument, and then up to Ian's eyes. Well adapted he thought even as he tapped his chin, contemplation entering his range of expression. "I could fix 'er up for ya i you wouldn't mind. It'd be an awful thing ta be walkin' round with a bloodied lip, eh? Especially if they heard about it. Might think somethin' was unusual." There was a conspiratorial sound to his tone, despite the fact that, to Ian, it would seem he was almost yelling to overcome the cacophony of sound in the room. Music and the hustle-bustle of bodies sure scuffles up a symphony of moving bodies, don'tcha think? Reates queried the butterfly which had just appeared upon his shoulder, having come into being only a second ago.

Yes, Reates was having fun that much was for sure.

However, he had to get the boy on the grill before he could properly season and cook him, so more'd have to wait while the student tried to find the words with which to respond. Yes, that'd be best.

In the meantime, the butterfly responded, its voice sounding like a whisper at the edge of Ian's mind, but an unfamiliar one, not the same whisper as Koshmar, who neither party knew of...yet. 'Yes, the music and the bodies are loud. Too loud in our opinion. Sets our antenna all a buzz, though it has a certain pleasantness to it. Unique is a good word, we think.' Reates nodded, seeming pleased by this before looking back to the boy and placing his hands upon his hips, his head tilting slightly so his eyes could peer down at Ian from over the rims of his glasses.

Colors and patterns all the same. The music was getting in the way of his sight, so he ceased his peering and used his glasses as the filters they were, removing the essence in the background, and that of the bodies which weaved and danced around them. None of it took very long of course, and so in a mere moment he was staring at Ian's essence. Yes, it was intriguing, certainly revealing signs of exhaustion. It was a marvel that the boy was standing at all. Must be the discipline of his art, or was it something else perhaps?

The teacher didn't know, that was for sure.

But Ian did.

A Foreign Exchange
Midday
Loom's Ghetto
Slade and yoshua171

Urban shitholes were the worst. Nothing but broken glass and shitty concrete crumbling all over the place making a mess. Plus unlike the jungle, you couldn't just pick a fruit somewhere off a tree or shoot some animal when you were hungry. Well... jungle food would have some unhygienic consequences for those not used to it, but it wouldn't have done Rhett any harm. But of course in this shit excuse of a city, the only thing one could eat here is something out of a dumpster or perhaps some rat that crawled out of a drain pipe for a sun bath. And Rhett wasn't hungry enough to go dumpster diving or clawing at some rat bigger than his face. He could easily go without food for a few more days and be fine. Though his flask was going to start running low soon. He had swiped a half a bottle of gin in the last city and was using that but due to the small amount he had been rationing it. Taking only a few small gulps every so often, enough to keep the withdrawal at bay. But not enough to keep himself content. Which explained his grumpy nature, well grumpier than usual. If his belly was full of warm booze he wouldn't give two shits about this depressing ghetto of a city, but his focus was just on how absolutely shite it was. And its name was fucking dumb too, what kind of name was Loom and why was it still standing. It looked like a boring version of one of the cities he had stormed while he was still in the army.

Rhett sighed as he sat down on a pile of rubble for a drink break. He wore steel plated boots along with camo cargo pants, which while rugged and worn out. Obviously still looked like it was made out of a military quality fabric. His pants were tucked into his boots, which seemed oddly neat considering his wild unkempt black beard, hair and face. But it was a habit from his soldiering days that had never died out: one always tucks their pants into their boots. Always. His top was a simple long sleeve black shirt that wrapped itself tightly around his shoulders and chest. Around his waist was a brown leather belt with a sheathe attached to it, and inside that leather sheathe was a machete which looked wicked in its appearance and its rubber grip had begun to wear away. Implying that it had been used many, many times.

Rhett pulled out of his backpack a small metal flask and slowly poured a small amount of gin down his throat. It tasted so satisfying. If only he could have more.

"Whatcha got in that flask, Stevie," a voice said from the young man's periphery. Leaned against a wall was a man who looked more his age, with a smug grin on his features. Rhett's senses may have very well informed him of several others nearby who thought themselves fully hidden --he had been a soldier after all. Nonetheless, this smug kid was questioning a man that he rightfully shouldn't have been. It'd sure be terrible if that'd been a grave mistake on his part.

“It ain't your Pappies beer, I'll tell you that much” he said sneeringly, his accent thick enough to cut it with a knife. It was obvious he wasn't from around here, hell it was obvious he wasn't from the same continent. His dull red eyes glared at the boy, the dark bags under them and his worn down face made him look easily like a middle-aged man. The fact that he hadn't even reached his mid-twenties was another story altogether. Still relaxing in his chair of rubble he shakes the flask mockingly at the man, as if daring him to come and take it.

“Of course, that's assuming you and your friends sneaking around got pappies at all. Fuark off kid, go play tag with someone else.”

Pappy? the kid thought to himself before it clicked a few moments later and he spit on the ground, pushing off the wall and signalling even as he approached the man. He was just some homeless sod, he'd take the flask and maybe give him a good beating to teach him a lesson. Yeah, that oughta do it. Several other figures dropped down from portions of the alley, some human...some not so much. "Tch, hell you think this is, a fuckin' homeless shelter?" Some of the other figures laughed. though one or two of them remained totally silent.

As if to accentuate the disdain he obviously held for the foreigner, the fool decided to get in his personal space, walking up beside him and then attempting to snatch the flask from the man. As he did so, two of the others exchanged glances silently after which one of them faded into the shadows entirely and vanished.

Snap! the others in the group could barely hear the noise it had happened so fast. They looked around wondering where it had come from before they looked again at Rhett grasping the young man's hand and with a twitch of his thumb had broken the index finger. They saw a blur of Rhett flickering his ring and middle finger and another resounding snap was heard, this time it was the man's thumb that had been broken. Before the man could let out a yelp, Rhett pulled him in and headbutted him. His forehead making contact with the bridge of the man's nose, breaking that as well. He let go of the man's disfigured hand and grabbed his neck, dragging him down and smashing his head twice onto the rubble. By the time he got to the third one, another man was moving in to help his friend. Rhett refused to let go of the first one's neck though, simply squeezing tighter for a better grip. Rhett turns slightly and puts out a simple low kick, hitting the second man in the knee cap, displacing it with a loud pop. The second man goes down with a loud groan and is put out of commission when a boot smashes into his groin.

Rhett turns his attention back to the first man, now struggling with his good hand to break free of the grip around his neck. The gurgling noises are put to halt when Rhett just simply smashes the man's face onto the concrete for the fourth time except this time he doesn't lift him back up. He places his other hand against the back of the man's head and presses him hard against the concrete. Then he begins to grind the boy's face against the jagged edges of the crumbling concrete. The boy lets out a mewling sound, not having enough room to fully scream. Rhett can see large flakes of skin slowly peeling off his face. Rhett feels another figure rushing up behind him, its fast. Too fast for most humans. Rhett rolls his eyes as he lets go and swings his body around, his fist making a direct connect to another's jaw, whose teeth seemed a little too large and whose eyes seem to look at Rhett as food more than anything else. Well that was just great, a fucking bloodsucker.

The creature staggers back, not expecting some random human to have such reaction time. Though Rhett doesn't give it the opportunity to strike again. Within a moment, Rhett's Machete has dug itself deep into the Vampire's neck, with a thick, black blood oozing down to the ground. Rhett looks it in the eyes and see's the life slowly fade away. Rhett nods his head. Satisfied, he slowly pulls the machete out of it's neck, producing a slick, disgusting sound and a slow cry from the creature before it falls over. Very dead.

Rhett looks about the ghetto. He knew there were more of them somewhere. He wondered if any of them still wanted to play their dumbass game. He looks down at his clothing. A bit of blood on his boots as well as piss from when he groin stomped that one man, still aching behind him. But his eyes widened in annoyance when he saw a blotch of the vampire's blood on his trousers.

“AWW sonofabitch!” He roared with his accent almost incomprehensible to make out in his annoyance.

“I just had these fucking things cleaned!”

"Oh, don't mind the stain," said the refined voice of a man who, unlike the others, was rather well dressed. "I will have you quite handsomely reimbursed for your trouble," the black haired man stated, his eyes locked on Rhett's face, rather than looking down over his grungy clothing. As he approached Rhett, still several meters away, the man's foot bumped into one of the fallen bodies, causing a sigh to issue before he took a step back.

Glancing down at the body, the raven haired man regarded it with a sort of disappointment and loss. It was almost like he was looking at a mildly valuable object, rather than a person. "Besides, I think their run in with you has given you some opportunities," the man's eyes raised back to meet Rhett's, or at least try to. Through his mind ran a series of considerable possibilities for it seemed he had just come across a man who might very well replace those he had just dispatched, though his facial expression remained serious, as it had been since his arrival. In fact, he presumed that this fellow would be infinitely more useful to him, if only he could tread carefully around him. After all, the individual was quite obviously dangerous...he just hoped that a certain Hatter would not show up while he dealt with him.

That could be disastrous, though mostly for him, considering that Falair could hardly fall against a human of this one's caliber.

Snapping his fingers and whistling once, Rhett would hear movement. "They were waiting for orders they'd never receive," stated Crow, as he kicked a soda can out of his way where it skidded against a wall slightly. "The name's Crow," he said, an essentially imperceptible shift occurring in his manner, "...what's yours?"

Rhett didn't immediately respond to Crow, he instead walked back to his little chair of rubble and picked up his backpack and flask, he eyed his flask for a moment before he shrugged. Fuck it he thought as he did a slow gulp of the rest of the contents. Drinking the stuff like someone else would drink water. He should have been smart and rationed it like he had planned, it would have lasted him another day. But he was tired of feeling pissy all the time. Plus it wouldn't be hard to swipe some more along the way.

When he finished the gin he threw the flask into his backpack and strung the strap along his right shoulder as he began to walk slowly to Crow, stopping in front of the body, only to bend over and wipe the blood of his machete using the body's shirt. He had kept this thing in good condition for years and he would be damned if some bloodsucker's blood got it rusty. Military habits prevented him from keeping any of his weapons dirty.

“My name is Rhett” he said casually, sheathing his machete after he had cleaned it off. He then stood up and faced Crow, they were at arm's length now. Rhett's body language seemed relaxed, but there was something quite noticeable about his posture. His shoulders were held high, his back was straight, the heels of his boots clicked together and his hand rested tentatively in his machete grip. All of this was done habitually, without thinking or feeling. As if this had been drilled into his psyche for years until it became part of his everyday existence, like breathing or pissing.

It was almost as if the man had been a soldier for a very long time.

“Were these your boys?” Rhett asked coarsely "Because they're rather shit if you ask me.”

Nodding as the man identified himself, Crow glanced at the flask, then upwards while Rhett seemed to gather his things and then close the majority of the distance between them. Eyes moving back down to train themselves on Rhett's form, Crow chuckled lightly at his word and then shook his head with a sigh. "They're no one's boys now. They're just casualties to the force of progress. You're right tho', they were rather shit," glancing at the machete for a moment, Crow turned his attention back to Rhett. "You looking for work...and a good drink?" His expression was serious again, though there was a question in his eyes.

Crow was a businessman through and through.

Rhett narrowed his eyes at Crow as he relieved an itch in his beard, his fingers digging deeper into the thick beard.
“Ay, I need more than a good drink, I need a stockpile for a good long while. And work eh? Well it depends on what I'm doing. Some things I'm not cut out for, other things... well”

Rhett gestures to the bodies lying around him, the black blood of the vampire had begun to dry up and form an unpleasant crust around the neck wound. The smell was also rather foul, but Rhett was too used to far more unpleasant smells to give it much thought.

“Well I suppose you've seen a few of the things i'm good at. What have you go in mind?”

"Yes, I suppose you could say I have," the businessman responded, glancing around quickly before his eyes locked on Rhett once more. "Simply put, things very much similar to this. Rhett, you seem very good at this sort of thing, and while I have several truly useful people under my wing, I'm always looking for more." Crow tended not to directly involve himself with violence, but that hardly meant he was opposed to it. To him it was just one more tool in his kit. "Is that all you'd require? If it's only for a job or two I could understand such meager rewards, but I'd be pleased if we had a more...long term partnership. No strings attached as long as no one hears any word of your employer unless they're meant to of course. Perhaps get yourself a mask? Hard to walk around without the authorities catching on if you murder people with the same mug that you use in every day life."

He knew this from personal experience. He'd had to change his appearance several times in the past, or just lay low for awhile afterwards. It was a good thing that his ability to manipulate essence was so developed. It had been well worth the time and effort required to master the art. In fact, he was so good at it now that no one was the wiser. In fact, it was likely that Rhett, even if he had any sort of supernatural senses, would be unable to tell that the man he was now speaking with was a demon.

After all, Crow was in truth a nightwalker, even though he looked and felt like a human. Such was a testament to his skillful use of essence manipulation. Hell, even an arch angel would've had trouble telling that he was a demon, let alone a hellion or a nightwalker. His ability was impressive to say the least. It was a good thing too, because humans distrusted demons somewhat, even in this day and age. It was simply easier for them to trust one of their own, the same for angels. Demons on the other hand did not tend towards trusting one another, not usually. They did not have family though they sometimes had friends. A demon was always watching their back, waiting for those closest to them to try to stab them, double cross them.

It was normal for them. However, unfortunately for those who would wish him dead, or a failure, Crow did not have these weaknesses. He appeared vulnerable, he appeared relatable, but in truth he was just another demon.

Luckily, very few people knew that...and the nightwalker intended to keep it that way as long as possible. It would be fun to see how long he lasted.

“No, you're right,” said Rhett, grinning darkly “I do require a few tools, booze is just extra.”

Rhett looked down at the body and kicked it slightly, of course it didn't have anything useful on it. Not even a crappy pistol that would break after two shots, still looking at the body, he spoke demandingly to Crow.

“Weapons, I need weapons: Pistols, silencers, assault rifles, sniper rifles, smoke grenades, remote controlled plastic explosives, the works.

Rhett sighed as he looked back up in Crow's eyes, his dull, muddy red eyes were sunken in and the dark bags under his eyes gave his pupils the effect of a low, ominous glow.

“Gear as well, and good military grade gear. Not that improvised shit you shady types like to put together. That makeshift stuff falls apart quickly”

Fuck it, if Crow wanted to offer him more, Rhett would take full advantage of that. He missed actually having decent equipment. Instead of the lousy crap that idiots he had worked for before considered “weapons”. A real weapon doesn't have to be held together with duct-tape. Rhett found it increasingly inappropriate that the best quality weapon he had gotten his hands on in the past year was his machete, and that thing was over two decades old!

“No mask” Rhett said “I don't need it, when buildings are getting blown up and people are getting shot. No one cares whose doing it all, they just want to run.

Rhett spit on the corpse below him in mock disdain. Perhaps Crow now knew that this wasn't just a particularly mean-spirited thug. This man was something else, something far worse than just some bruiser. One could see it in those dull red eyes.

“Because anyone who does care gets killed.

His head tilted slightly, but it was not so much a look of curiosity, rather than consideration that Crow had donned. In his head he was counting figures and they had risen swiftly, but they had not hit the upward limit yet. "Is that all? Weaponry, supplies, a place to hideout, plenty of booze, and the amenities?" The most subtle of smiles was on the man's face, "Not too lavish, though I can say that your taste in equipment is worth mentioning. Would you like any hex-tech? I have connections everywhere, getting my hands on normal weaponry is easy. Getting my hands on magical weaponry is barely harder." His small smile had turned into a pleased grin. It seemed the hardest part about this man would not be keeping him content, but rather making sure that he didn't destroy, or kill, someone that he ought not to.

It would be a simple matter of finding a way to maximize the man's talents through tailoring the missions he was sent on. Still, if he was going to supply the man this well, he'd better make good use of him, otherwise it would certainly not be worth the expense. "I will not ask you to be discreet, I don't imagine you're the type. However, if there is something particular that I need you not to destroy, or slaughter, can you follow that directive as long as it does not put you in an inescapable situation?"

This was a key question. If Rhett answered in the positive, then there would be little trouble for Crow, but if he answered in the negative, making use of the man would be more difficult. Nonetheless, he would take the chance. He could always sell all of his equipment back, excluding the ammo and explosives of course. Still, Crow knew how to make a pretty penny. It was all about choosing the right people to deal with. It could be tiresome, but it was worth it.

“That won't be a problem” Rhett answered casually, not thinking too deeply into the matter, in matters of warfare he was a professional and he would take orders and jobs in such a manner.

“Hex-tech? Well I've used the stuff a few times. But give me what you've got in mind. I'll be taking it all apart anyway at some point. I like to know what kind of weapons i'm using.”

Rhett looked around the ghetto. God what a fucking shithole.

“Let's get a move on, this place sucks”

His smile filled out and, as per usual, he reached his hand out for the man to shake. "If it's not too much trouble," he stated, glancing down at his hand and then back at Rhett.

Rhett looked down at Crow's hand and then back at his face, eyeing him with a degree of suspisicion. Then gave Crow his crooked smile as he shook his hand. Though Crow noticed his other hand still placed in a relaxed manner on the rubber grip of the machete. Rhett was always prepared for trouble.

“Pleasure to do business with you” Rhett said, his accent so completely foreign, and yet hard to pinpoint exactly where it came from. Perhaps Crow would find out someday, in a later time.

Chuckling lightly and giving the man a firm handshake, he let go when it was appropriate and then whistled once more. Several nightwalkers appeared from the shadows and began picking up Rhett's mess. "Can't leave these here. It'll cause trouble," he explained, "Oh, and they weren't here the whole time. I don't need body guards," he smiled at Rhett and began walking down the alley. "I have a place in mind for your hideout, if you don't mind me calling it that. I've already called a ride over. Nothing to conspicuous. I don't think it suits you, and it makes it easier for people to spot me. All the better it be...normal." With that a car pulled up. It was rather plain looking, nothing special. Crow climbed climbed into the vehicle and waited a moment while Rhett did the same.

This had gone rather well. Unfortunate that those men had died, but oh well. You give and you take. It really was a very successful day.

Though, there was one thing Rhett didn't know. Mere contact with Crow was like signing a contract...and the moment that he broke it, Crow would know, no matter where he was.

Strange Strangers
Midday
Kenen - West Heights Marketplace
Wind and yoshua171

Silently Zi bit her lip and nodded. Feeling guilty and unsure of what to say she just held Emmet and let him hold her in turn. It seemed like to her the assault didn't matter, like all that mattered was his steady heartbeat...

However peace didn't last long. Reality didn't seem to tolerate even a moment away from it and it soon burst their bubble with the ring of a phone. Reluctantly Emmet stepped away from Zi and reached into his jeans' pocket. The girl used the moment he was answering to extend her senses and follow Juan's trail to where it stopped. What she felt made her stomach turn. The demon was next to an angel and it wasn't going to last long. Its essence was slowly bleeding out... right until the demon stepped in to consume it instead. Just like that not only a life was extinguished, but a soul as well. And while Zi didn't feel much sympathy for the person who tried to shoot both her and Emmet dead, the thought itself made her hair stand up. And so did the realisation that she herself would have enjoyed watching the angel perish.

Emmet's voice came as a wake-up call, even though she didn't realize she'd spaced out. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"I need to go." The young man repeated, remorse and alarm in equal measures in his voice.

"Go where? What's wrong?" She inquired, somewhat shocked at the abrupt statement. They'd just been shot at and he wanted to leave her alone straight after? The accusation must have been clear in her eyes as it made Emmet's expression twist further. "I'm sorry. It's Darius and it concerns Olivia. I need to go, but I promise you I'll contact you as soon as possible." He apologized sincerely, putting on his jacket and shoes even as he did so. Zi hurried to grab her own. "Is anything the matter? Should I come with you, I can--"
"No." He cut her off and the words died in her throat. "I'll call you when I can." He repeated and stormed out of the apartment. Zi was left standing there for a second, feeling like a fool and trying her best not to feel abandoned. It took a few seconds for the reality to sink in that he wouldn't come back... whereas Juan would.

Gritting her teeth and kicking a pair of Emmet's shoes in frustration, Zi decided she wouldn't sit here and wait for the demon's return. Slipping on her flats and throwing the denim jacket over her shoulders, the girl shut the door behind herself and ran down the stairs. Along the way she reached into her pocket and took out the essence vial and pulled the cork out with her teeth. On demand the essence held within vaporized into an invisible cloud that Zi willed to stretch out in a kilometer radius. It was a shame to see the Miracle angel essence go to waste for purely monitoring purposes but it was the only one she had. As the ethereal substance spread, so did Zi's perceptions. She could now feel and see every living creature within that radius, from the smallest child to the brightest glow of an angel. She could sense Emmet as he got in his car and sped towards Burbran Avenue. Stubbornly, Zi choose to head in the opposite direction and turned around the corner of Fleet. Her mental image of Juan cleared and she could quite literally keep an eye on him while she was making a run for it. She remembered clearly the look he'd given her as he saw her heal Emmet and she had no doubt she should be weary of the demon. The angelic essence twisting in his abdomen as he slowly chewed on a bone only confirmed that.

Desperate to get away as soon as possible, Zi reached into her inner pocket again, her fingers reassuringly tightening around the cool porcelain-like surface of a mask. She could make a quick exit, she would even cover her trail by completely altering her essence. But as soon as her hand started slipping out Zi's senses alerted her of another danger. A vampire, more powerful than any she'd met, was headed in her direction, and he was moving fast. Zi's heart sank. Her hand quickly withdrew from its location. It was too dangerous to shift right in front of a creature that's lived for centuries and seen and felt all sorts of beings. Choking on her breath Zi slipped into the crowd, praying that whatever's coming wasn't coming for her.

His form casting a shadow far below him, Mairyell's eyes scanned over the area of the city in the general direction of his target. He wasn't sure what this Zi would look like, so all he had to go on was a name and from that, the possibility of it being female. Based on the scent he was picking up, that was also correct. She didn't seem that powerful, not really, though there was something odd about her. She seemed primarily human...but there was something else in there. It reminded me of someone he'd smelled only once before: Hazumi.

"Agh," Mairyell exclaimed as, for a moment, reflected sunlight from a skyscraper's windows blinded him. Shaking his head after the event and blinking several times to readjust his eyes, the vampire glanced down and took a good long whiff of the air again, before a smile spread across his lips, he swooped diagonally upwards, and then half folded his wings before plummeting downwards feet first towards a building. He was in West Heights near an apartment complex, and it was on that complex that he landed, his wings unfurling at the last moment to get rid of the majority of his momentum. He didn't want to smash through the roof.

Landing he took another sniff of the air and then chuckled, closing his eyes and repeating the action twice, his body turning till he could smell the scent at its strongest. Thataway, huh? Fair enough. She's moving rather fast though, wonder why. Perhaps she knows I'm coming and thinks I'm a threat? At that the vampire chuckled, his purple eyes opening, He was a threat, just not to her. Laughing lightly. his wings emerged once more and he took to the air, quickly ascending before leveling off and continuing on his path to locate Zi, except now her signature was much clearer to his senses. Within a minute or two he'd find her.

Meanwhile Zi was forcing herself not to break into a run. Her perception was only feeding her fear as she sensed him appear on top of Emmet's apartment and then unmistakably head her way. Already her hearing caught the faint beat of wings and the sound they produced didn't imply feathers. He could fly?! How many vampires could fly?! Furthermore, looking closely at his essence there was something else beside the vampire. Demons..humans. All being digested at various speeds. The realization made her choke on her breath, cough painfully and slow her run. What that person seemed like to her essence sight was a demon, bathing in the blood of its victims, a man wearing the meaty robes of decaying corpses. A stray memory hit her and almost made her trip. The Fleshshaper, dressed like a clairvoyant Seraph, hand outstretched to her, eyes locked on her's, her desire to take it. What she'd felt back then hadn't been disgust, but mostly reverence. Now it made her gag and stumble. A few passer-by looked at her funny, oblivious of her torture, probably assuming her drunk or mentally ill. Seeing concern on a few faces, Zi grit her teeth and made a sharp turn left.

Cars honked and yells were heard but she ran straight across the street and under the arch that marked the start of Finsmoore Marketplace. With an open plan and a multitude of stalls and people, with a roof overhead and more than one exit, Zi's breath calmed ever so slightly. She forced herself to smile at the florist, reassuring him that she wasn't mental and was only here for a last-minute buy before the shops closed. Meanwhile her senses were scanning the facility for the flow of essence to see where the exits were. Without hanging around for longer than a second, Zi slipped In the nearest women's wear shop and grabbed the first garments she saw, hiding away in the dressing room. There she leaned on the wall and gave herself a second to take a breath and consider her next move.

Her hope was that the marketplace, the shop assistant and the cameras would deter the vampire. Reaching for her top she considered taking it off and pretending to be caught changing if he comes up with some bullshit of being her boyfriend or whatever. Almost as soon she cursed herself for that thought. "What're the chances that he's gonna care? If you're gonna die today, at least have the dignity to wear a fucking shirt."

With that decided Zi took a deep breath and willed her hands to stop shaking. She again reached for the demon mask and held it tight in case she needed to enhance her reflexes rapidly.

Yup, she was definitely freaking out, Mairyell surmised, a small rueful smile on his lips. It hadn't been the first time that someone had freaked out when he'd gone looking for them. He had a tendency to do that and while it was somewhat annoying, it was almost equally amusing. He even got to play a little bit, teasing them once they realized he wasn't going to quite literally tear into their flesh and sap them of their essence. Eventually landing and following the trail that this Zi had certainly taken, the vampire's blood wings politely folded in his back and he nodded his head to several slightly off-put onlookers. He was used to getting looks, they didn't bother him anymore.

His feet carrying him towards his destination, Mairyell looked at the store fronts rather casually, not at all in a rush. He knew that Solus had called Zi pivotal, but he figured that they had some measure of time before shit hit the fan. Eventually the trail led him straight into a women's department store of some sort. He didn't care enough to even glance at its name, he simply walked in, taking no mind of the odd looks he got. He figured he either looked like a creep or like a boyfriend buying his girl a special present. He wished this could've been a visit under such pleasant circumstances.

It was not.

Eventually noting the woman's essence on a particular rack, and then leading back into a changing stall. Sighing, Mairyell then leaned his back against the side of one of the stalls, taking on the appearance of a man waiting for someone, which he was. After several long moments, the vampire spoke, just loud enough for people close by him to hear, and not enough for the clerk to notice. "Must've been real excited to get some new clothes," he stated with a sort of sarcastic amusement, "...or maybe you're just really flighty. Not something I'd expect from one of Solus' acquaintances."

Zi's heart skipped a beat at the sound of the male voice across the half-assed door. She had expected it, of course, but it was still a bit of a shock. You can never be truly prepared for death, not even if you've died a couple of times already. Yet beyond the mockery in his voice there was also something undeniably pleasant about it. Some softness. And there was that name he mentioned, one that rang a distant bell, though Zi couldn't pin-point why. Swallowing hard and rubbing her thumb over the mask nervously, Zi decided to answer. Her voice was low and timid, almost as if she was trying to both get a message across and pretend to not be there.

"What do you want from me?"

"Not much. Although I hope that you don't have anything planned for today." There was an amused air to his words and a smile, one that should could not see, on his face. "It'd be best not to talk too openly here though. Not exactly the picture of privacy. However, from your reaction I doubt you'd let yourself anywhere even vaguely private while in the company of a dangerous vampire," the last two words he said with an eyeroll and a mocking tone. "If it helps any, I can tell you a title of mine. Sanguine should sound somewhat familiar...and friendlier perhaps," the vampire was almost musing aloud as he casually mentioned his name, which had become something of a living legend. After all Mairyell had lived for over 200 years now and for 200 of those years he had been traveling the world and saving, or beating, all kinds of ass. The name Sanguine was known the world across, and the rumor was that the famous hunter was in Loom, which was only an hour or so from Kenan.

Even more so, Sanguine was partially known for his blood red wings, wings that most vampires did not have. In fact, it could be concluded that only ascended vampires had wings, and their wings were made from flesh, and their colors were almost never red. The other confirmation of his identity was his eyes, and the third was his essence. If Zi took a moment to really analyze his essence she would find herself not seeing the churning of victims, but a rather unique equilibrium of human and demon essence in an eternal dance. Mairyell's essence was unique and aside from his sister, whose essence was in many ways similar, there were few who could claim such traits. Still, he hardly blamed her for turning tail initially, even if at the end of the day she couldn't escape him. His ability to track people down was even more infamous than his wings after all.

Slowly Zi's frenzied heartbeat seemed to calm. what he was saying seemed to work as the mention of Sanguine put the name of Solus into perspective. The former's fame had sprouted quite a few proverbs about him helping the weak and a vague memory reminded her that so had Solus. In fact, she remembered meeting the guy once. It hadn't gone that brilliant but that was beside the point. She was trying to remember the characteristics of the famous vampire - of course, anyone could claim to be him - and unfortunately from the little she could remember his eyes stood out the most. A bizarre, shifting colour involving both blue and red, mixed to make a peculiar shade of restless purple. "Such a poetic description, Azel..." she rolled her eyes mentally, reluctantly admitting that that was, after all, her best lead. Zi gathered her courage. Literally. She wasn't going to leave anything to chance so she gathered some essence around her face and made it sharper. While pretty fragile, it was going to cut someone's hand if they were to try to reach for her. Often she found that was enough.

So, taking a deep breath, Zi cautiously poked her head through the drapes and narrowed her eyes at the unexpected visitor, trying to make out the colour of his eyes. Seeing them made her shoulders relax somewhat and a deep sigh escape her.

"Okay. I'll come with you." She surrendered, her voice sounding tired and resigned.

Hmm, she's a looker he thought silently as she poked her pretty little head out of the stall. When she eventually emerged fully he ceased leaning on the side of the stalls and turned to face her directly. "Very good. Then, shall we depart? I'm in a hurry to get back to someone, and apparently all this is rather...important." Mairyell noted an odd smelling essence surrounding her. It was like she was surrounded by the essence of many, rather than just her own. It was a bit strange, but he made no comment. Mairyell was not one to pry unless he became particularly curious.

Gesturing for the door, Mairyell then walked towards it, figuring that she might not trust him enough to allow for him to tread behind her. That unnerved some people, the vampire knew. "Let's get going, I've got some other things I want to check on after this. Oh, that reminds me," as they exited the store he stopped and glanced back at her, a light smile on his face. "I hope you don't mind flying," a smirk crossed his features as two huge blood red wings expanded out from his back and then partially solidified, though not so much that they did not appear incredibly fluid. Offering his hand to her, Mairyell waited, hoping she wouldn't be too opposed to flight, because if she was then she'd be displeased when he had to pick her anyways.

Mairyell was not the most patient bloke, and if he had to forcibly carry her all the way back to Loom, he would; no second thoughts, no questions asked. Even if she was kicking and screaming the whole way.

Zi's courage visibly faltered as Mairyell unleashed his wings and her body recoiled with a curse. "He's safe, he's safe, he's safe!" She chanted as she willed her body to remain in place and squeezed her eyes shut. Then an idea occurred. quickly she pulled out one of her masks and slipped it on. With the blink of an eye what stood in her spot wasn't a human any more, but an angel instead. The face was the same but the eyes were now a dark maroon and the complexion fairer. and of course, there were those brilliantly-white wings. Zi stared at the vampire with a comically serious attempt of dignity and stepped past him.

"Let's go." She said and took off.

A small curious smirk resting on his face, the vampire nodded, and then took to the air, the woman quickly following suit.

Solus sure knew how to pick his women.

Ian- Loom, The Academy- Midday

Ian’s shock at Reates’ transition was immediately manifest in Ian’s response. Adrenaline pounding through Ian’s veins he rolled onto his shoulders and kicked his legs launching himself from the ground to his feet. Fidrieon reacted to Ian’s fear by shifting the keys of the flute so they sat between Ian’s fingers giving the flute a grip of sorts which made Fidrieon easier to use as a weapon.

As he came to his feet his surprise response stalled as the rest of Reates statements got through to him. “My apologies, your magic startled me.” Ian wiped his lip and looked at his hand as it came away covered in blood from where Fidrieon had split his lower lip. He could taste the copper as he worked his mouth and tongue making sure that none of the teeth and been chipped by the fall. “I’m fine honestly but if you really feel the need to fix this I wouldn't mind. It’s been a long few days and one less injury would be greatly appreciated.” His legs and forearms were beginning to bruise from his earlier work out on the dummy and his knuckles had just been starting to scab over and heal from an earlier workout in the week. Punching the dummy had opened them up yet again.

Ian pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut wrinkling his upper lip and turning up the edges of his nose. His eyes felt gritty from the lack of sleep which was just annoying at this point, in comparison, as the adrenaline had worn off and the energy he had felt earlier was slowly ebbing away from him. Ian’s arms and legs felt like lead and his lower back was starting to pain him. Realistically the only thing that kept Ian on his feet at this point was a will of iron and long years of learning to separate himself from pain. He’d spent the summer chasing a particularly nasty Angel through the Himalayas on behalf of the academy. The final fight had torn out his left shoulder and he’d barely staggered out of the mountains before frostbite had started to set in. His training was the only thing that allowed him to come out alive from the fight and then again when he was trying to make it out of the mountains fighting against freezing winds, lethal falls and more snow than Ian ever wanted to see again.

His digits and shoulder hand been restored via magic but whenever he was tired it always seemed like the shoulder started to act up even if the doctors had assured him that all of the damage was gone. Ian didn't believe them but then again the shoulder seemed to function just as well most of the time so he didn't ever bother to pursue the issue.

The whisper caused him to whip his head back up and his eyes to go wide, before he did something rather unusual. Ian pulled out a deck of cards and shuffled through the deck with a look of concern on his face. After he counted out all of the cards he frowned and put the deck back in his pocket. Seeing the butterfly he blinked. “Sir, there is a butterfly on your shoulder….” Ian sort of trailed off after that as though he were trying to figure out what exactly was going on as a look of mild confusion crept a cross his face. This prompted him to check the deck of cards a second time but getting the same result as before he frowned and replaced it in his pocket for the second time.

Ian….sleep calls, come play with me. Ian shook his head. “Apologies, I’m rather tired right now and I think it may finally be catching up to me. This was punctuated by a yawn and Ian finally slid Fidrieon back into its holster at his hip. Blood still crusted the head joint of the flute from where it had smashed his lip. Ian inhaled slowly trying to separate the pain and survive this conversation with a mage. Just his luck.

Tea and Honey

Nine Senses
Loom
Evening

The music was flowing around like the scent of freshly baked bread carried by the wind. The crowd was bathing in the thick melody, inhaling it and getting intoxicated by it and in their hearts the feelings sprouted and grew like an insatiable hunger - love, joy, regret, sorrow, longing... Ibuki's voice was reeling them into his own world, giving them a guide-light and a lifeline in the whirlwind of emotion, giving it a structure and breathing a soul into the music. It was gently stroking their hearts before rising in volume and intensity to allow them a release from the sweet pain. And they screamed. And in those screams the band bathed, their ecstasy bouncing off their public, only to come back stronger and even more powerful.

Samantha Rule was hitting the drums with her eyes closed, letting herself be abducted into a world of peace and harmony. For once she was happy to follow and not striving to compete. Ibuki's voice flowed sweet and warm like warmth in a winter blizzard, sticking to her soul, sheltering it from the ruthless world beyond. It engulfed her and erased everything beyond itself. Yet that wasn't all. It was honey-coated steel, the Will and strength behind it shining trough only at some syllables that you had to listen closely to to catch. Oh, how she wished to explore that passion, to see it blossom! That soft demand singing straight to her heart reminded her of Sameda's own voice, the most heavenly one she'd ever heard in her life. One she couldn't not follow.
Silk, her mind gave her a hint. Yes, Ibuki's voice was like silk, she agreed, an enlightened grin creeping on her face. She had heard once that silk is not only one of the softest, but also one of the strongest known natural fabrics in the world. Oh, if he would only use that voice for the wrong purpose, she thought, he would be formidable. He could have an army of followers and conquer land not by blade but by song alone, demon lords and angels both bowing their heads before him.
Yet for now what she was getting was enough.It was enough even if she was his sole follower.

But then the voice died down, and so did the music, and just like that the magic faded away. When Sam's eyes opened she saw no miracle but only the plain and mundane world she knew so well. In the end, they were just a bunch of teenagers on the dusty stage of a club with a fading fame.

With a sigh she let her drum sticks fall to her side, the life taken out of them, and just watched as the crowd cheered and reached out for Ibuki and the rest of the band. Someone threw a flower at her feet and she gave them an encouraging smile as she limply picked it up.

"Come on," someone nudged her "time to go."

Amused by the daze Ibuki had caused, Sam smiled and followed Ginger behind stage. As she opened her locker with shaky hands she tried to relive the magical emotions from before but that proved impossible. The tranquil feeling was fading and being replaced by a rising restlessness.

A hand landed on her shoulder and made her turn.
"Hey." She grinned at Ibuki. "Great performance there. You almost broke my heart when you stopped."

The boy laughed. "If I could, I'd never stop."

"One of those days." She reassured, patting his shoulder "You've got an angel's voice and I'm sure one of those days you'll sprout your very own set of wings." She grinned and took pleasure in watching the blush creep to his cheeks.

"I'm just human, Beat, and I don't think I'm turning into anything else anytime soon."

"Cute. That's what you are." She teased, pulling his cheek and removing her hand a second before he attempted to slap it away. They both laughed as Sam sucked her cheeks in, pursed her lips and wiggled her fingers to imitate a (very disturbing) bird.

"We're off to the pub. You coming?"

"Can't. Sorry." She threw the strap of her bag over one shoulder. "Gotta go."

"You have to come with us some day, you know?"

"I will." She lied. Ignoring Ibuki's disappointed stare Sam slipped her shoes on and left.

Lucien
Abandoned Countryside Estate
Evening

Crash!

He was thrown through the tile roof of the estate with inhuman strength and he landed on the floor with a sickening crunch of bones being broke. He was on his feet a couple of moments later, bones popping back into their proper places, and flesh knitting itself back together. The curses he panted out as he healed were more old habit than at the actual pain of it. He took a brief moment to contemplate what it meant that his blood was on his opponent’s blades (it was on the walls and the roof and their armor as well.) while he himself had yet to mark them. Then they came through the hole in the roof, landing with their wings tightly pressed against their backs. Each of their swords was ready for any move he might make, their armor(including full faced helms) unblemished by the fight, his blood dripping gently to the floor from both. Lucien brought his own sword up in preparation. He couldn’t run, and he doubted he could fight the three of them off. Not this time. “So the Cowards aren’t brave enough to fight me themselves?” For a long moment, there was silence. Then the one in the center, their apparent leader, spoke his voice echoing in the enclosed room and his helmet. “The Archangels do not deign to dirty themselves by slaying a mongrel so far below their station.” Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Really? It seems that the other Cowards that I’ve killed had more guts than the remaining two. So how’d they convince you poor bastards to hunt the infamous ‘Kinslayer’?”

Only a tightening of his lips indicated that the leader was irritated by Lucien’s words. “We volunteered for the honor of removing your stain from this world. Your crimes can only be punished by de-“ “So where are they?” Lucien interrupted him. The leader’s lips tightened again, and the other two shifted slightly. For whatever reason, they weren’t attacking. Perhaps it was because they believed him nothing more than a cornered animal, trying to buy his last few moments of life with talk. None of them noticed that the gentle dropping of his blood had stopped. “You do not deserve to know that, scum.” The leader replied, with the same lofty arrogance. “Before you die, tell me, what are your last words? The Council will want to know what you said before you died. And others will have bets to pay if you beg. Be quick about it, before we decide that you should go to your grave without a sound.” Lucien sighed. He had hoped to get a little bit more information out of them before it came to this, but he’d work with what he had. “I’ll leave a message for the Archangels myself. It’ll be written in your blood.” Before his Battle Angel opponents could do more than blink at his at his mad and unfounded confidence, the blood that had been moving up their armor to where their eyeholes were spiked inwards, digging into through their flesh and bone to cause havoc and pain in their brains.

They screamed. They howled. They dropped their blades, ripped off their helms and clawed at their heads in an attempt to stop the pain. It didn’t work. His blood was already in their brains, tearing through them and then tearing through them again as soon as it healed the damage already done. He dispatched them quickly afterwards, pinning them down and shoving his sword through each of their brains. A quick search of their bodies revealed a letter to the leader, detailing where he would be and how to kill him quickly. It was signed by one of the remaining two Cowards. ”Ah, Ariane. You always were the coldest and most ruthless out of all of them.” As promised, he left a message in the blood of his enemies on that note. Pinning it to the body of the leader, he left soon after heading towards Kenen. Information always seemed to find its way into that city.

The message was a promise.

Vengeance is Coming.

Around the same time, Mairyell, Solus, and Darius all got the same message, albeit it was different for each of them. It came in a vaguely familiar ring tone, if Mairyell and Solus could be bothered to remember back to two hundred years in the past, when two vampires, an ascended vampire, and an ascended werewolf all died respectively at their hands.

A phone appeared, floating next to each of their heads. Sir’s cheerful voice came out, loud enough for anyone within a six foot radius of the recipients to hear it. If any attempt was made to catch and close it, it would teleport out of the way, still blaring out its message.

Mairyell: “My dear little vampire! I know it’s been a long time, too long in fact, since we’ve had contact, but at least I haven’t had to go get new help again! Do you know how hard it is to find a werewolf and turn it into an ascended werewolf without killing it? I don’t think you do. Hans took me years to find, and then you just killed him as easy as you pleased. Regardless, that’s all water under the bridge. I’ve been watching you these last two hundred years, when my experiments on Mary permitted me too that is, and I’m sooo pleased you’ve become a goody little two shoes defender of the weak. I have a request, a demand really, that should be right up your alley with the whole ‘defend those who cannot defend themselves’ thing. You see, I finally got Mary. Took me a little portal tweaking, but I got her. I got my research done in the two hundred years, etc. Then I lost her again, and I can’t get her again, because she’s gone to the Academy. You know, that new place where humans can actually become a threat to Angels and Demon without being turned into monsters like you! Anyways, so I grabbed another girl, named Olivia Matthews. She’s only about, hmm, twelve I think. And I’ll be forced to experiment on her, in a very painful and mind breaking fashion, unless I get Mary back. Mary isn’t quite finished, you see. I want to avoid the whole mess of experimenting on Olivia, and then sending the recordings of her screams and pleading and begging to you, so if you could kindly go grab Mary and then deliver her to Loom, calling me on this phone when you do so, that’d be great! I’ll even give Olivia back to her loved ones!”

Solus: “It’s my favorite sarcastic Demon Hunter! How have you been all these years? Don’t answer that question, I’ve too much to tell you. I saw that little handy dandy work you did with the original Abyss, marvelous work, I have to say. It took me 5 years to remove it and the insane creature inside of it without killing poor Mary. Did I mention I got Mary back? After she went through a portal, I just hijacked her trip and brought her to me. Why couldn’t you have done that sooner? I could have saved that poor vampire woman…whatever her name was…you know, the one you killed and then tried to interrogate. And Hans! But, it all worked out in the end. Regardless, I have something you should know. Mary appears to have, ah, gone missing. I let her out for a little field testing, and then she was taken by a mad human sorcerer to his tower, and now they’re both in the Academy! I myself, and none of my new servants, can’t get in there without causing a fuss and a making a mess that would likely kill Mary or at least cause her to escape in the chaos.

So, I did the next best thing! I caught another girl, Olivia Matthews, twelve years old, and I’m using her to blackmail some people into taking Mary for me and delivering her to Loom. Don’t worry, I won’t be demanding that you go get Mary or Olivia will be experimented on, because I know you’re just as much of a heartless bastard as I am and that Demon Lord you killed was. I’ll just keep you updated periodically on the situation. Though, I do remember you saying that you’d find me and kill me eventually. Sometime before telling me to go eat a chode. Whatever that is. I’d still like to see you try that, so you could just catch a ride with whoever brings Mary back, or with Mary herself if I’m forced to tell her that I’m going to be torturing someone until she arrives, and then we could have ourselves a good old fashioned battle! It’ll be fun!”

Darius: “Mr. Foxman. You don’t know me. I don’t care about you and your petty little games. The only reason I’m even contacting you is because I have something of yours, and you can help me get something of mine back. You may have recently noticed that your blackmailing chip, one Olivia Matthews, has been kidnapped, and your man sent to pick her up is dead. I killed him, and took the girl. Don’t worry; nothing bad has happened to her. Yet. I want you to get a girl named Mary from the Academy. You know the one where they teach Musicians. Bring her to the ruins of Loom, and contact me when you have her with this phone, and I’ll give you Olivia back. Fail to do this, and I contact her brother with the same proposition, and send you both periodic recordings of me torturing her. You have three weeks to contact me before I go contact her brother. Have a nice day.”

Kenan in Darius’s home, Around Evening time.

The whole situation was nothing more than a mess within Emmet’s mind and Darius was the cause. After he hailed a cab, jerked open the door and threw himself into the worn seat, his eyes shifted to the cab’s rear mirror. He wasn’t surprised to see a pair of bright blue eyes surrounded by crow feet stare at him through the reflective surface. Likely his reaction possibly reminded the man, who looked old enough to be Emmet’s elderly father, of a little kid with his huffy display. Inwardly Emmet groaned while he took a moment to examine the pessimistic expression which concreted itself on the man’s face. It seemed he was the last fare before the driver was supposed to retire back home and now, impatiently, waited for the new address to his cab’s new destination. Figuring enough of his time was wasted, Emmet leaned forward and spoke the directions. His words were short and quick, a faint attempt to amend his ill-timed trip.

A wiry white grey eyebrow raised in suspicion at the address. To satisfy his curiosity, the man turned in his seat to more closely trace Emmet’s image. As if looking at him in a different angle might change something drastic. Emmet knew it wouldn’t though he could see the driver’s conflict just under the surface of his eyes. Namely the choice between taking him seriously and drive or kick his ass to the curb, then head home for a hot meal and rest. The only question was which one sounded better. Unconcern with the man’s inner choice, he leaned back into the seat and looked out the window making it very clear he wasn’t joking about his directions while he waited. Minutes ticked by before the man realized Emmet wasn’t about to break out laughing then change his destination, his body pulled back to its original position and started to drive. He had pulled the cab out onto the main street when he tried a conversation. The whole time, his face warily eyed Emmet as if he expected the man to pull a knife on him. Something which was impossible because of the wall like structure that separated the passenger and driver, their eyes met through the small several inch thick glass between.

“Why is someone like you heading to the ritzy part of the city, eh?” His tone was world weary, distrustful and suspicious all wrapped up in one. Sounded like a man who grew up in the toughest area Kenan had to offer and the one thing that made Emmet relax.

“And why would a paid cab driver be itching to know?” Emmet asked, countering the man’s nosiness with a question of his own. His lips dangled in a half hearted smile though his face felt plastered into the mold out of habit.

“Just curious and hoping you intend to pay for the trip.”

“I have a feeling if I aimed to skip out, then I would be faced with a simple problem.”

“Oh yeah, son. What problem might that be?”

Emmet’s smirk widened, still seemed faked in his mind, while he edged back and hooked his fingers underneath the door handle. Gently he jerked up but the door stayed fixed in place. “You’ve locked the doors. If I don’t pay, you’ll just keep me until the police arrive and force me to. Or arrest me. So, I assure you I intend to pay.”

Silence was Emmet’s answer. The only one he was grateful for when he positioned himself back to staring out the window. His body gently jerked side to side during the rest the trip, no more pleasant conversation had happened between them and in its absence a heavy discomfort settled. It left Emmet’s guilt to jerk at his conscious as he kept wandering back to the apartment. Namely Zi and her pain at his firm answer to her request. Things had been left on a sour note, all because he let his personal feelings get in the damn way so now he would pay the price. The worst part was he had little idea why Darius had requested his presence. The Fox had been so cryptic that it made him nervous especially when it came to Olivia. He had a bad gut feeling within his heart but he tried to shove his way past it, his throat tightened and swelled until it seemed to be suffocating him. The thought of Darius only strengthened Emmet own reasons to protect Zi and Olivia, neither knew how truly dangerous the fox was or what lengthens he went to for control. If only they knew. Then again, he had a feeling Zi would attempt something reckless like trying to take out Darius. That little scene might’ve solved many problems at once, but it created a new mess of others and possibly even some more danger then before. Darius’s presence had for years help keep the delicate balance in Kenan. At least behind the scenes and that was what made him so deadly.

At this point, Emmet had noticed the cab slowing. His ears perked at the sound of tires hitting gravel, mind thankful for the distraction, when the jarring movement softened then stopped. Emmet pulled his eyes to peer over the driver’s shoulder and saw the reason for the halt. Several feet before the cab stood a man, his hand upheld just between the car and the gate. The other hand had hovered just over his holstered gun. Emmet was pretty sure if cab driver continued he would’ve had several bullet holes within his windshield and skull. The guard didn’t look like the type to warn before he killed someone. Already Emmet spotted the familiar decorated dress code Darius forced most his employees to wear as two more, a slender blond female and red haired man started to approach into his vision’s edge. They moved like stalking animals, alert and ready, when they came to the first man’s side. They kept glancing to the cab while one man, the first one, started to cautiously approach.

No matter how often Emmet came here, the way they moved, their reading of each other and wordless gestures gave him the creeps. It was like whatever made them human had vanished completely. When the man came close enough, the driver rolled down his window and gave his best poker face to the stranger. It was clear Emmet wasn’t the only one unnerved by these people but he gave the man credit, he kept a damn good straight face. Immediately, he jerked his thumb behind him.

“He’s the one who gave me the directions, Mac. Shoot him if you’re going to kill anyone.” His reply was gruff and short, straight to the point.

Emmet took a wild guess this guy rarely had repeat customers. The suit tilted his head into Emmet’s position in the back seat, his features cold and unmoved by his scruffy appearance. Great, Emmet thought bitterly. He shoved his depression away and sat upright. “Darius is expecting me. Emmet Matthews.”

The man’s reaction told Emmet all he needed to know, even help peel away the bizarreness when he spotted the tension in the mouth corner. Small, and barely missed but it was still there all the same. Though it was hard to tell the cause, either fear or unsettled nerves, for it. After a moment or two past, the man had straighten up allowing the gates to open. Wordless his body stepped aside alongside his fellow employees, their covered eyes in dark sunglasses and blank faces centered on the once more moving cab. Shortly the car had rolled into the driveway all the way up to the two story mansion.

When Emmet first witness the house, he thought it looked a bit like a well-kept government build rather than a home to a powerful demon.

His eyes roamed over it for a moment longer until the car grinded to a complete stop. One thing he had little doubt about was that the interior was just as elegant as the outside which added to one dark fact. The fox knew how to spoil his little sister better then Emmet could hope to and didn’t have any problem making it public. Too much irony filled Emmet’s life that anymore simply lost its humor. On his way out, he paused only enough to pass a few wrinkled bills into the driver’s meaty hands and shut the door. It didn’t take long for the elderly man to take off suddenly. The tires’ screech still rang inside Emmet’s ears when he reached the top of the stairway entrance and disappeared. When he opened the second set of doors he had expected to come face to face with one of Darius’s trustworthy lackeys, but instead Juan’s catty grin merely widened at his appearance. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Juan was rarely absent for long, namely at Darius’s orders, and usually one step ahead of him. Still his mind was slight impressed to the fact before he shrugged it away. Juan’s bloody grin was convincing evidence it was best to guess at what had happened to shooter rather then ask about it, some things, Emmet had learned early, were best left unsaid.

Juan, like usual, couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He stepped forward, his arms wide and wecloming in greeting. “Hey sexy, miss me?”

“In your dreams…” Emmet replied in a short, grouchy tone.

He ignored Juan’s need for attention and allowed his eyes to drift. They were naturally attracted to where Darius’s lower level office was, the door only slightly open yet the fox hadn’t appeared. That wasn’t something Emmet found comforting. Usually Darius had sent someone to fetch they but no one arrived, just the pair left alone within the lavishly decorated room. Emmet didn’t have much time to puzzle over the matter when Juan interrupted him.

“Touchy. Did your girlfriend kick you to the curb already? You know I can take the pain away.” The demon had closed the gap quick and now stood within Emmet’s personal space, his hand gently caressed Emmet’s cheek.

Emmet merely jerked and slapped it away. “Knock it off Juan.”

A voice, neither Emmet nor Juan, interrupted anymore conversation. Emmet’s neck hairs stood on end just to hear it. Darius’s voice always sounded rather smooth and over sweet, too kind to belong to a demon but rather a slick business man. Not today. Instead it seemed forcefully steady, an underneath tone of angry and impatient mingled dangerously. “Get in here you two. I’ve not patience enough to tolerate your bantering today. There are more important matters to attend to then receiving a headache.”

Emmet shot a questioning look at Juan. It was too late as he managed to glimpse the demon’s naked back when he glided into the main floor office, his body shifted to side wall to allow Emmet to follow. He sighed and crept into Juan’s wake. Delay, with Darius’s mood being sour, meant pain later. Something best avoided. On entering, he could almost touch the tension which had laced itself throughout the room and it left an uncomfortable and invisible residue. Nearest the window, just beside the desk was Darius. Dressed in his casual wear of a polo shirt and black slacks, his back was facing them. His hand swished a half filled glass in his paw while he stared into the evening scenery through the open window. The crimson liquid swirled from his wrist movement in accordance to his deep thought. Slowly he took a sip, his body half turned and placed the fragile thing upon the corner. He didn’t face the pair which edged farther in, yet he knew they were there. His ears tracked each step, each jerked in time with their steps, before he spoke again the instant they stopped.

“Nice to see you two finally arrived,” he said, finally acknowledged them. Darius twisted his head slightly to the side, the pupil had narrowed into a thin strip, surrounded by a slightly reddish yellow iris that warped with thin, tiny lines, “Now if you two are done flirting about your sexual preferences, I rather have your full attention.”

“Ummm… either you’re jealous, Darius, or impatient. I sure hope it’s the latter because I’ve not much experience in outer species relationships.” Juan spoke in his normal charm. Out of all of Darius’s staff, Juan was the only one who Emmet had witness never to receive reprimanding consequences when he spoke in that fashion. It meant one of two things: either the two had some sort of history and one he never wanted to know, or Darius seriously respected Juan’s skill enough to tolerate such quirks.

Both were very bad in Emmet’s opinion.

“Sad to say, Juan, I’m not currently in the mood to entertain you.” Darius warned Juan, who seemed to sense the hostility emerge and retreated cautiously. The fox ignored Juan for the moment, the demon pulled back to the wall where he stood leaning against it. “Hank had just finished up a deal when I called him to pick up Olivia. He was supposed to contact me as soon as she was with him yet it’s been too long. Though according to Juan, Emmet, you were reported to have a nasty encounter with an imp and the thing left its mark. Seeing you currently however makes me wonder something. Either Juan lied or something else is a miss because you seem rather fit for someone who had a nasty…bite just over an hour ago.”

Emmet’s jawline tightened at what Darius was hinting at. His eyes continued to glare at the demon, but never did a word cross past his lips and his arms merely fisted at his side. Something wasn’t right. Darius seemed to practically glower at him and silently blame him, the fox’s black lips pulled back to reveal incisors briefly. Did he believe this was his fault?

“What are you getting at?” Emmet almost growled, his hand moved slightly closer to his gun while his eyes stared at his tormentor.

Darius whipped his head back to the window, unconcern with his accusations or the fact Emmet looked ready to put a bullet into his head, while he continued. “I called the school to see if she was still there, but when Ms. Corbin sent one of her resident students outside, they discovered a horrible scene. The grounds keeper, a Mr. Findley, was found bleeding from the mouth. In farther investigation, ribs and sternum were cracked as well as his neck snapped. In addition to that, Hank was found several blocks away with what seemed like a sharp weapon wound. One that entered his throat and exited out the back, killing him instantly.”

“Darius,” Juan’s voice sounded genuine concern. He moved to intervene, his voice showed he didn’t like where Darius’s words were leading. “He was injured. I will vouch for that, I saw the wounds myself.”

“Bullshit, Juan. You’re good, but no damn miracle worker when it comes to venom. Olivia’s gone and there’s only person here who benefits with her disappearance. We both know how Emmet can be when comes to those who get his way…” Darius didn’t bother to look at Juan, his face fixed to the window.

Emmet just stood there. His ears dulled the sounds of their fighting until they were nothing more than background noise. Only the earlier words seemed to have made the world stop dead in its tracks while a chill, cold and freezing, washed over Emmet at the fact Olivia was gone. His skin paled while eyes darkened and his throat became dry, unable to speak. Olivia was missing? The words didn’t quite register. None of it seemed to be in English while he struggled to understand it, his fear and worry pounded like a sledge hammer at his calm demeanor until his hand finished the move to his gun. Fury rippled throughout him enough that he hadn’t realize he was already positioned behind Darius, the gun ready to blow the fox’s brain out the front of his face without a second though. His target barely seemed to note his aggression which caused words to spill forth.

Each word was punctuated in pure hatred, though his gun was strangely steady. “You think I would be idiotic enough to do this again? Why am I here now if that was case? I could’ve been long gone.”

“Emmet, enough.” Juan tried again to calm the situation, his eyes warily eyed the gun, still determined to reason with the fox. “Darius, this is silly. Yes, I’m no miracle worker but it wasn’t my doing. His mending was…well, helped along.”

Immediately Emmet’s eyes shot to Juan. His glare tried to silence the man, but the demon merely brushed it off. Juan peeled himself off the wall while he walked past Emmet and where he could gain Darius’s attention.

The closeness only caused Emmet’s finger to tighten about the trigger, itching to pull it and end this charade. If Olivia was out of his grasp then Emmet might actually be free of this hell. Darius didn’t speak. He continued to stare out the glass, his reflection fixed back at Emmet. For a moment seemed like the Fox would accept his end, but another hand appeared between the conflict: Juan’s. The darker demon lashed out from the side and jerked the gun’s barrel downward before he ripped it from Emmet’s grasp. In the same motion he immediately emptied it then threw it to the side. The weapon skirted across the floor until it was halted by a wall, far out of either one’s reach.

Still pissed, Emmet impulsively shoved Juan away and snapped at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sorry, cutie, this emo attitude is a rather bad turn off for me. Let’s take it down a notch,” Juan chided, “As for you, Darius, there’s a clear explanation for this. Since you think Emmet had something to do with this, it’s rather hard to accuse someone who’s been busy fooling around with someone else in his apartment. A girl named Z-”

Without considering the end consequences, Emmet’s hand connected with Juan’s jaw and shut Zi’s identity off before the demon could finish. It was reckless and impulsive, but little could’ve stopped him at this point. He felt his bones crack on contact as Juan drop onto one leg and in moments, the familiar pain of broken bones followed it. Juan had foolishly let his guard down when Emmet hit him. It was obvious the demon wasn’t expecting the violent outburst while he rubbed his throbbing jawline and stared upward at Emmet’s furious expression, his own eyes return the intense emotion with a much darker interest. For a moment a Emmet concluded Juan might actually kill him on the spot for it.

Still fixed in the venomous glare remained on his while his sight never left Juan’s. “Leave her out of this Juan! Or I swear, you’ll regret it.”

Before Juan could reply, Emmet felt something take hold of his shirt collar. With intense strength, he was thrown off his feet and slammed right into the window. Glass crackled in a high pitch sound as it shredded into his exposed flesh, his shirt shielded his arms from most the damage while he instinctive protected his head. His eyes closed but the pain danced over his senses. It was like tiny blades slicing into him with a vengeance. Darius sent Emmet flying across the side lawn several feet, his body hit the ground until it halted at the base of a bush. It was there he laid for several moments. Men and women, all employees, gathered around with their guns out and pointed at Emmet. However Darius wasn’t finished. His shoe lifted and carried him over the now shattered window and onto the lawn. Grass was trampled until each step he took to close the distance, he waved the gun men off with a small gesture. Gingerly he lower himself down to knee to let his voice carry over to Emmet.

“Tsk…tsk, didn’t I teach you better?” Darius smirked and reached down.

His hand cradled Emmet’s skull, the man struggled, his hand propped him up while he started to fight back. It only increased Darius’s grasp. Fresh fired rippled through Emmet’s head and his hand slammed into the ground. In moments a crude puppet had formed then launched itself upward, its little claw sliced upwards with a vengeance. Darius felt the sting of its tip connected with his eye. With a roar mixed in fury and pain, the Fox’s free arm batted thing away and took hold of Emmet’s arm. Snap! The bones were easily crushed under the demon’s strength while Emmet screamed. With that answer, the puppet returned to its feet for round two, but Darius was ready. He slammed Emmet’s face into the ground. Once, twice and a final third time before the puppet suddenly crumbled into dust. The once green grass was stained with the human’s blood. It glistened in the faded light, just beside the collapsed form as one man edged forth to aid Darius’s now raising form. Again the demon waved them off.

“Lock him up in the guest house and ensure he lives. Drug him as well bled him out, just enough to keep him weak. I can’t have him using his magic again and without energy, he can’t even decay a stone let alone anything else.” With his final word, Darius turned on his heel and walked back to his exit. His hands brushed out his clothes as if nothing had happened outside the norm.

He ignored Juan’s disapproving look and took his glass from the desk edge, his muzzle took a sip.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“He’ll live. I’m know his limits, if I wanted to kill him then I would’ve done so long ago. Now I believe its best you leave.”

“As you wish, Darius,” Juan bowed then exited, though he was careful to keep his hand behind his back and out of sight. He did managed to sneak a disappointed look in Emmet’s direction but the Fox had little idea what lingered on his fellow demon’s mind or cared.

Darius continued to sip his wine and idly watched his men pick up Emmet’s out cold body then haul it into the guest house’s direction. His mind was lost in the questions and puzzlement over the current situation until the phone ring tone broke it. A phone, oddly, appeared nearby followed by a mysterious and cheerful voice. Darius’s lip pulled back irritation at the ill manner of the man while he listened closely. He knew trying to close the phone was pointless, either a trap or wasting energy, so he bore through the mockery.

“Mr. Foxman. You don’t know me. I don’t care about you and your petty little games. The only reason I’m even contacting you is because I have something of yours, and you can help me get something of mine back. You may have recently noticed that your blackmailing chip, one Olivia Matthews, has been kidnapped, and your man sent to pick her up is dead. I killed him, and took the girl. Don’t worry; nothing bad has happened to her. Yet. I want you to get a girl named Mary from the Academy. You know the one where they teach Musicians. Bring her to the ruins of Loom, and contact me when you have her with this phone, and I’ll give you Olivia back. Fail to do this, and I contact her brother with the same proposition, and send you both periodic recordings of me torturing her. You have three weeks to contact me before I go contact her brother. Have a nice day.”

The wine glass stood no chance. It broke easily when Darius’s hand fisted together, his eyes lite heavily in a reddish glow while his teeth bore in anger to the message. Not because the man had degrade or insulted him. If a simple slip with the Foxman bit when his last name was Cain was all it took to unravel the demon then he would’ve never lasted as a Casino owner in the past. No, it was because he threatened Olivia. Thankfully Emmet was already imprisoned so he was one less problem to worry about.

As he calmed himself, Darius couldn’t help but noticed the one mistake this man made. The fox demon was far from the merciful or the forgiving type when those he valued were threatened. It was a trait Szayeis himself had often found rather useful in the past. Now it was time to get to work.

Juan & Damon

It was just another day for Damon. Wandering the world, looking for something to do. He would normally occupy his time doing research and learning, but even that gets boring sometimes. He picked up videogames for a bit, inspirational, but never stayed around long enough to really get hooked. He meant to follow some rumors to a settlement that was having some trouble with robbers, but Damon never bothered to ask directions and quickly got lost. Best he could guess was that he was near Loom, and that was only because he happened to pass Loom a few days ago. He could be anywhere as far as he knew.

But trouble had a way of finding Damon if he couldn't find it himself. It didn't seem like much at first; as he was walking along the side of a road he came across what appeared to be a broken down car. A tire was flat and the blinkers were on, so Damon foolishly thought that maybe the owner simply ran into a flat. He went over to investigate but noticed no driver. In fact, the keys were still in the ignition. There was no sigh that the car was hit or for any struggle. It all screamed supcious until, seeing a reflection in the window, he saw something try to sneak up on him.

Damon dodged out of the way to see some sort of hairy humanoid creature with a cudgel take a swing at him. "Oh look, it's big foot." The beast didn't trade verbal jabs and instead charged at Damon. He strank into a small puddle which the creature stepped on, catching his foot and causing him to fall. Damon rose back up and simply looked at the creature. "Come on now, do you really want to mess with me? Just head back into the forest and think about your life." The creature got up and charged again and Damon repeated the trick. The pattern went on for a bit until Damon got fed up having to keep dodging the beasty, so when the creature charged again Damon spawned a large rock to land on the creature's head. It landed with a sickening crack. The creature was either dead or knocked out, but either way Damon killed and consumed it just to be safe. He also fixed up the car, figuring that he could make use of it.

Now behind the wheel of a old sedan, Damon drove on the roads looking for his next misadventure. The beast he consumed was some sort of savage ogre, attacking and eating passerbyes and animals. Oddly, no memory of if the creature killed the owner of the car and seem to have stumbled onto the location just as Damon had. Aside from that, the demon did't have any interesting memories aside from the location of a small town. It might be where Damon needed to go, so relying on the creature's memories he headed in that direction.

Sure enough, Damon found a small town. It barely looked like there were any houses here. There was a gasstation, a car shop, a little chain of shops like the drug store and a resturant, and what appeared to be a motel. Hardly a village, yet there was a sign saying "Town of Wherever". "Wherever? Is that suppose to be a joke? Damon pulled into the gas station. He wasn't sure what the town's attitude towards demons were, so he took on the guise of an unassuming black man. Hopefully this town wasn't racist either.

Entering the gas station Damon browsed around. The clerk seemed to be more interested with his magazine than Damon. He looked around the shelves, whichc contained what you'd expect in a gas station: Junk Food, Cheap Car accessories, random household items. Damon brought a bag of chips and went up to the clerk. There he tried to see if he could get some information on the town.

"So... Quite town. I bet this place must have a lot going on."

"... Not really. Don't really get much travelers though. I've never seen you around here before."

"Yeah, I was... I was just on my way become from Loom. I had the muchies and figured I'd stop by town here."

"That's nice. It's too bad this is a small town though. Not really much to do here except grow soybeans and maybe listen to the news."

"No doubt... Is there anything else going on around here?"

"Well... No, not really. I heard there was some robberies, but they're not really something that anyone is concerned about."

"Ah, a led. Better press for more questions." Though Damon paid for his bag of chips he stuck around to chat with the clerk. "Robberies? You'd think someone would be worried about that."

"Yeah, but it's just that nothing was stolen, you know? Just a couple of people who noticed their doors were open or something. Honestly, even the sheriff can't make much of a case about it since it doesn't seem to be nothing more than breaking and entering."

Curios, Damon thanked the clerk and went on his way. Somehow he had thought that the robberies were going to be more... Exciting. He figured he could still try to look into it, but he felt that he'd just be wasting his time on nothing. Better safe than sorry he supposed.

Back in Kenan, Juan had just evaded Darius's goon security long enough to dial a very old number. He had his doubts it was still in service or the same person would pick it up, but it was the only lead he had for seeking out an old friend. He needed a favor as well as someone with destructive abilities and one demon, a slight shape shifter of sort was best description Juan could come with, had them. He only hoped he was free.

Wasting little precious time until Darius's men found him, Juan's hand reached in and pressed the number tag, followed by call. His free hand brought forth the knife which had fallen out of Emmet's belt, currently stained with the owner's blood. With the right magic, it might be a decent way to seek out Emmet should Darius decide to move him to a more secure location. Unknown to the Fox, Juan was outside the door during the little phone's annoy as hell message and nothing escaped his attention. Every little detail was tied up in his memory. It just waited for him to deliver it to Emmet when the stupid man woke up. Inwardly he blamed Zi's idotic kindness for the whole mess and Darius's original suspicions though how the Fox knew Emmet was alive was something of a mystery. One he yet to solve.

His teeth grounded for a bit during his wait, the dial tone vibrated off his ear until someone finally picked up.

"That's... That's dissapointing." Damon wasn't even sure why he got his hopes up. He didn't even shift into his demon form before he pratically solved the case of the "robberies". Though in truth, it was just some kids who broke into their own homes. How something this minor was worth rumors spanning to Loom was a mystery to Damon. Either way, he breated the kids who did it and was quickly back on the road. He was listening to the car's staticy radio when he felt a strange feeling within himself. A familiar yet also uncommon sensation. Someone was calling him.

Having no need to wear his disguise Damon returned to his original form. And while doing so, he answered his phone. "Hey this is Damon, I might be a bit busy right now, but leave a message and number and I'm sure I'll get back to you soon." Jokingly reciting a faux answering message Damon waited to hear who called him.

"That's a hell of a hello sweet thing." Juan mused slightly, his voice fixed within his usual sweet and spicy nature. "Hey, wasn't sure if you changed your number or not, but I'm calling in a favor. A big one. Friend of mine seems to have lost his temper and currently beyond my aid alone to bail him out. However, if you're game then call me back. Really need the help here."

"Oh! Never thought I'd hear you on this line. How's it been?" Damon didn't really get an answer before Juan told him the nature of the call. It was some sort of rescue operation, which certainly was going to be much more interesting than foiling the mistakes of some latchkey kids. "Yeah, sure, I can help out. Were you at? I'll get there A-S-A-P."

"Surprise, surprise ask for a miracle and I tend to answer. Yes, I think this task I have in mind is right up your alley and currently in Kenan but before we get started I need to make some preparations. One, I need to pop by my apartment and stock on things, supplies since he's in terrible shape. Next, we need to locate someone local who would be able to set us up with a safe house of sorts and well out of Darius's territory. I rather not have my boss chew my cute ass before I fix his mood. Despite the situation, Emmet's still his favorite which is why he's not dead. You also might want to buy a few supplies and I'll meet you in Loom shortly. Right now, I'm being tailed." Juan said, his head whipped about side to side to scan his surroundings.

Damon said nothing and merely listened to what Juan had to say. Normally Damon does his best to keep out of Juan's business since they're not always.... Morally agreeable, but Damon wasn't one to betray a favor. Besides that, this was only a one off thing. Short of some really specific things, Damon could handle supply and armament himself. Though why Juan needed to save Emmet from Darius, and why they had to meet up in Loom, was a bit of a mystery to him. He figured that once he rendezvous with him however, he'll get the full details. For nowr now, Damon was going to set up some things in Loom, in case things get particularlly buggy.

"Any questions?"

"Yeah, just a couple. First what did Emmet do to piss off Darius? Second, where did Emmet go? Also, what do you need me to get, and where in Loom should I meet you? Lastly, who's following you and should I get ready to deal with them?"

"Answer one, he held a gun to his head and threaten to shot him. In addition Darius already accused him of kidnapping his sister which he didn't do so both in the wrong in this situation. Emmet just happened to come out worse in the end. Two, he's still at Darius's mansion home locked in the guest house. Ton of security and goons more willing to blow your head off when they catch you trespassing. And Three, currently you know that old tavern? Hog's Head or something like that, meet me there and if you know someone local to help then bring them there as well. Get this all out of the way. Shit, gotta to sweet thing but I'll call you later." With that, Juan quickly hung up.

"Mmm. Ciao!" Damon hung up his phone and floored it to Loom. Time was of the Essence, plus he was going to need to make another call himself. Two calls in one day, this was definately more exciting that foiling a robbery.
With an eye on the road Damon began to search his memories for some information. He knew a guy who knew a guy, and Damon was going to talk to him about setting up a safe house for Juan and Emmet. With any luck, they'd be near Loom as well. He took out his phone and made a few calls.

"Yeah... Hey, I'd like to pass a message along to your boss. Yes, I know. I want to talk to Crow."

A Request Too Great

6:48 PM

Zi's face twisted with each flap of the giant angel wings that had suddenly sprouted on her back. Which was now itchy and felt slightly wet. She really hoped she hadn't ripped her favourite denim jacket but knew the chances of that to be pretty slim. The motions she had to execute to keep herself in the air were quite tricky at first and you had to calculate wind speed and look out for thermals and... she slipped, her body twisting to the left and threatening to throw her off-balance. She had fallen once, not from very high, luckily, and it wasn't very fun. Reluctant to demonstrate her incompetence when it came to flying, Zi glanced at Sanguine. She was trying to dissect his essence but that proved hard while they flew, so she gave it up for the time being.

"So what is this about, are you and Solus Grim like the Justice League or something?"

Watching Zi from his periphery, his eyes never actually turning to her, Mairyell watched with amusement as she focused on her flight. It was not something that came naturally. He'd been, in some ways, rather lucky as he'd been born with instincts that made flight considerably easier. By now he was a master in that field and it took no effort at all. When she asked him a question, his eyes turned to her for a moment before his head turned as well and he smirked slightly before snickering and then laughing. "Hahahaha, Justice League. That's rich," he wiped his eyes a bit after laughing for a solid moment and then turned to her again, still chuckling. "No, we're not. As you know, I'm a hunter. Also, if you're looking for a name, it's Mairyell. Sanguine is a title of mine, not my actual name hehe. As to what this is about, well...an ancient force rising from hell to destroy us all," there was a smirk on his face, making it difficult to tell whether or not he was serious.

The laughing fit definitely surprised her and a shy smile appeared on her lips as she was almost tempted to join in. Then she remembered she had to keep a face and extinguished it. She noted his name and gave hers in turn. As he explained his reasons of coming Zi rolled her eyes with a sigh, not appearing to believe the story. In fact she did. She just wished she didn't have to get involved in it. In her book, she'd done her fair shair of world-saving when she helped invent the masks and made the Nephilim possible. Still, she knew she could trust herself to jump straight in the cross-fire if things really went bad. And that wasn't a reassuring thought, not for a mortal.

"Well, next time you can use the phone. I'll give you my number. Mind you, Solus should have it. If he still has the same SIM as 180 years ago, mind you."

Mairyell chuckled, "I doubt it survived Hell, let alone the other places he apparently went," the vampire replied, taking no mind to her apparent disbelief. She could've turned around right now and departed, but she didn't. So she either believed him and wasn't letting it on, or she figured there was something more important that he wasn't telling her. Regardless he nodded, "Anywho, what's your number?" he asked, extracting a phone from a pocket and holding it in his hands. He had no worry of dropping it apparently.

Hell? He's been to Hell? she thought, wincing at the memory of that place. Happy about the subject change she quickly gave Mairyell her number and impatiently asking her next question.

"And how did you find me then?"

Mairyell smirked, "Well, a very small amount of your essence was on Solus, though I'm not sure how it survived all that time. Plus...your essence is similar to someone I met roughly 200 years ago, give or take a year." He was willing to expand on how that meant he could track her, but wouldn't do so unless tracked. He didn't seem to mind explaining things much, he'd grown used to people not understanding concepts. He had become patient in some ways over his 200 years...he'd had to.

"Right. Anything I can do about it? I mean, I'm not awfully keen on having such meetings often. Not that kind." She smiled with a scoff, glancing at the vampire.

Mairyell looked thoughtful for a moment then looked at her with an almost sympathetic smile, "Nope. However, I doubt you'll have to worry about others being able to easily find you. My sense of smell is legendary. I can track someone down from a tiny shred of essence even if they're a continent away. Lucky for you, we seem to be on the same side, so no worries." He shrugged a bit, which looked odd in flight, but he hardly cared.

Zi nodded and smiled. She hoped that remained the case.

---

Having flown for a good while, Mairyell and Zi eventually found themselves over the mansion. Mairyell knew how to find it, plus he could just track Solus' essence there. Made it a lot easier to find. Landing, Mairyell glanced at Zi and then motioned for her to follow him. They would have to walk around the house and enter the still broken back door. "Hmm...I think he's in the library by the smell of it," the place was the image of abandoned. It was overgrown, dusty, and had it not been for the guard creatures, it would've been overrun with animals. Mairyell began making his way to the library, Zi in tow.

In mere moments, they passed through the doorway that lead to the once great library that filled this portion of the building. Old, moldy books littered the bookshelves in the hundreds. Once upon a time they were readable. But now, the words had long faded. The main attraction of the room however, was what appeared to be a large cocoon of black feathers, that was slowly bulging in and out, like it was breathing.

It was a sight Mairyell had not expected, at all. In fact, because of it he'd stopped just a step after entering the door, making it slightly more difficult for Zi to enter. She'd have to squeeze past him. He wasn't typically caught off guard, but this he didn't quite understand. This was certainly the elder hunter's essence in that body, but the feathers were unfamiliar.

As they were walking Zi's eyes darted about the rooms, still ready for an ambush that she hoped would never happen. Seeing the state of the mansion annoyed her. Solus may indeed be old but that was no excuse. The dust and the mold and the ripped linen... it was a disgrace. He'd probably ask her to be his personal maid. Or to infuse the place with some weird essence so it never aged and he'd never have to clean again. Speaking of which, he had a girl last time they met. At least she should have kept it in order. Unless she'd long died. Zi's stomach twisted. Sometimes she forgot how much time had passed between her reincarnations.

Zi almost bumped into the vampire's back as he stopped and then stood on her toes to see what had startled him. It was a bunch of feathers, unmistakably Solus'. The Ones he'd been missing last time.

"Well," she thought, "some people grow beards. Others grow feathers."

Mairyell glanced at Zi a moment, noting her lack of surprise, and then turned back, walking fully into the library. "Hey... featherhead. I brought Zi, you know the one you asked me to contact." There was an odd mixture of annoyance and amusement in his tone. One could say that his feathers had been ruffled...or maybe that was Solus. Mairyell's wings didn't exactly have feathers. Regardless he kind of wanted to leave, despite the apparent importance and urgency behind all this. Perhaps it was the wanderer in him. He tended not to stay in the same place for a very long time. It didn't help that he'd recently found Aeris so he would have rather been spending his time with her, not off retrieving some stranger.

Nonetheless, the fate of the world was kind of his business, so despite himself, he had not left yet, but instead would stay to see why this Zi had been so damned important. Oh, and it might not hurt to ask who that cocky bastard from before had been.

As that didn't seem to achieve anything, Zi reached into her pocket and shamelessly threw a cork at the feathered heap. Still, she stood at the door in case it exploded.

Suddenly the room exploded in a massive shockwave of air. One that was powerful enough to destroy the rotting bookshelves and obliterate what remained of the windows, smashing the interior of the room to pieces. Instincts shooting into activity, Mairyell's leg moved back, his foot sliding, to brace himself even as he realized that Zi was about to get hit by the same wall of air. Shit he thought, even as he tried to extend a wing, or tendril of glowing blue blood, to snare her before she was violently flung into a wall. He wasn't sure if he would make it.... Meanwhile, even though she had thought it, Zi hadn't really assumed an actual explosion would happen. Forgetting about her own temporary wings which threatened to turn her Into a human kite, all she could do was squat... And squeal. The two of them were blown away. Zi's wings siphoned the blast of air and pulled her into the wall behind her, slamming her spine into concrete, while Mairyell lost balance and fell backwards, the force of the shockwave sending him sliding back, his body landing between Zi's legs, head resting on her stomach.

Once the two finally regained their senses, they would see Solus, shirtless, sitting on his knees, his huge black wings sprouted in their full glory. From the end of one wing to the other, 44 full feet of feathers, flesh and bone. Each wing had 5 joints, which was highly unusual for a pair of Angel wings, as they normally had 3, like everyday birds. Solus' eyes were still closed, as if he was totally unaware of what just happened.

"Asshole!!!" Zi's voice brought Solus back to his senses whereas the vampire only gritted his teeth and rose, mildly annoyed. Wincing at her words, Mairyell offered a hand to help her up, "You okay...?" He asked, the purple hue of his eyes slightly more red than it had been before.

"Yeah." Zi took his hand and rose to her feet, flexing her wings. Just two appendages more to hurt. Mind you, if she was in a human body she might have well bruised or broken something. "Now let's go chop those off." She nodded in Solus' direction.

Mairyell smiled slightly before glancing back to Solus, who hardly seemed conscious of his actions at all. "I don't think he knows we're here, and by extension I doubt he did that on purpose."

Solus remained unconscious and on his knees. His right hand was closed tightly, as if clutching something. While his left, rested on a knee. His face changed every few seconds into a different human expression, though the most prominent one, was of annoyance.

Tilting his head slightly, Mairyell watched the hunter quietly. He would have liked to just kick him in the face to wake him up. That'd have issued an amusing reaction, he figured, but a bit of...delicacy was probably more intelligent considering the sheer amount of damage the man had just caused merely by opening his wings. He wasn't sure that Zi could handle what might happen if he kicked the chimera instead. Perhaps he could flick him though. "Odd, never seen him with wings...or like this. He looks unconscious, smells it too. Not sure what's up with his face though. I mean, it was always rather...bizarre, but the expressions he's cycling through are strange." Then an idea hit him, "Perhaps he's going through recollections..." he said it with a thoughtful tone for even though Solus' essence very clearly showed all three racial aspects, he had never asked much about the angelic portion. Exmortis had come up here and there, but even his knowledge of that aspect was small at best.

Honestly, he wasn't quite sure what to do, but if he had to wait much longer he was more likely to just walk up to the winged idiot and flick him in one of those flaming eyes of his. Granted he'd probably tell Zi to hide before he did that, he wasn't an idiot, just rather rash sometimes. Two hundred years of nearly uncontested survival did that to a guy. "Any ideas?" He glanced at Zi.

Zi narrowed her eyes at the man looking to confirm or deny that suggestion. She assumed that if it were true and Solus had only recently reattached his wings, then the angelic essence held inside them would slowly seep into his body and alter the existing one. That's probably what Mairyell meant anyway. But looking into Solus' essence didn't support that guess.

"Unless he's just reminiscing, I don't think that's whats going on. Beats me what it is, though."

"Well in that case, brace yourself," the vampire stated as he walked towards Solus. He intended to flick the man in the forehead, nothing more...nothing less.

Zi grinned and wrapped her wings around her, stepping back until her back was against the wall.

Hearing her movements he smiled slightly, she'd made a good choice. He then took the last few steps to close the distance between Solus and himself, after which he moved to flick the chimera in the forehead. However, as his finger made contact with the hunter's body, something strange happened. He blacked out frozen in place, his consiousness lost, just like Solus'.

---

The world around Mairyell turned to darkness, an impenetrable pitch black darkness that was so thick you could cut it with a sword. He felt like he was moving through it, despite not moving his limbs. It was moments later when he felt something touch his feet. Upon looking down, he saw a black stone, rectangular in shape, well chiseled out, like it was made by craftsman, putting pressure on Mairyell's left foot. Or was he standing on it? A second later another similar stone shot out of the darkness and placed itself beneath his right foot, the first and the second stones touched each other, and became seemingly inseparable, like they were glued by concrete.

Unsure as to how to react to the strange change in circumstances, Mairyell tried to extricate himself from the stones. His senses reeled somewhat. He had to admit he was getting rather tired of the things that seemed to happen whenever he was involved with Solus.

He saw that more stones started to appear around him seemingly out of nowhere. They attached themselves to the first two black stones, and continued to multiply. He realized that they were forming, or building, a floor for Mairyell to stand on.

Frowning slightly, the vampire tentatively formed his wings, keeping them close to him, not even halfway extended. He did not trust this, but nonetheless he took light steps out towards the blackness, hoping that his wings could still carry him if he decided to use them in a time of need. He was not at all comfortable with the situation, something that he was beginning to think was normal when around Solus. He didn't like the association, but it was being made anyways. Hopefully there was some purpose to this, one that he could figure out quickly so that he could be done with whatever this was.

As he walked, walls made of a black concrete formed around him, building themselves slab by slab. Columns smashed their way up through the floor, and at their peak, an ornate, masterfully crafted ceiling began to form. Archways erected themselves above his head. Stone pews fell from above and landed on either side of him. Some of the stones of the walls, floor, and even a few pews, remained floating in the air, seemingly unable to adjust themselves properly, and were now stuck, eternally floating for all of time.

The darkness finally began to subside in this strange building as torches lit themselves, illuminating his path forward. The path ahead seemed infinite, with black arches, columns, pews and walls endlessly going forwards.

Unnerved by the silent and sudden movements of what he was beginning to see as a building, slamming into place around him, Mairyell continued forwards. He was suspicious, and off-put, but nonetheless he trudged forth. It didn't seem like any of the structures would form in such a way as to harm him, but it was still...bizarre to witness. It was like he was dreaming.

Dreaming.

Mairyell's eyes narrowed slightly, but at the same time his shoulders relaxed and his claws retracted, claws he hadn't even noticed had formed. If this were a dream, and it almost certainly was, then he had little to fear of his surroundings. So he continued forwards, less worried, his movements carrying purpose. If this was a dream, and it had been triggered by Solus somehow, then the Chimera ought to be in here somewhere. He just had to find him.

Still, it was strange. It didn't seem like all his senses worked as they should have here. The physics seemed off too. Only the rush of air could be heard when things moved into place. Never the crash of their formation. Perhaps...perhaps the whole building was already there and he only thought it was being built as he explored it. A representation of his perceived surrounds, in a more...literal sense. If this were the case, it confused him, for it meant that this might not be a dream. "No..." his eye twitched slightly at the way the sound echoed in the space. It was eerie. This whole place was eerie. His senses were on edge, but why.

He was confused...again. Sighing, the vampire kept walking, having stopped for a moment to think. I'll find Solus first, then think about what is going on.

It was several more minutes of walking before he finally reached a titanic arch, leading into a room that was even bigger. This room, was just like the enormous corridor that Mairyell had traveled through for the past ten minutes. Columns, arches and pews littered the place in a strange, yet perfect mess. It was almost mythical, outworldly...

In the room stood two silhouettes, talking to each other. One of the voices was filled with anger and frustration, while the other was calm, with an essence of sheer, immortal power. Godly in nature. The angered voice echoed into Mairyell's ears. "The fuck do you mean she's an unnecessary, mortal distraction?" It was obvious to Mairyell that it was Solus. The dull green glow that burned out of his face identified him as such.

As Mairyell finally entered auditory range and heard Solus, he stopped in his tracks. He was angry. Angry, something he had never once seen Solus, not on any of the jobs he'd done with him. However, what bothered him was the other presence. The second silhouette. He started moving again, slower now, almost as if awed. It was the second time today that he'd felt like there was little to nothing to do to change the situation he was in.

He didn't like it.

"She is slowing you down. We cannot afford to lose any more time..." The creature's voice boomed throughout the Grand Hall. "You know who's really slowing me down, asshole? Slyre." Solus shouted back.

Slyre? Mairyell thought as he quietly approached. He had an odd urge to sit down, but wasn't really certain as to why. There was a very bizarre sensation in the room. He didn't like being powerless, but as he got closer to the two, it seemed to bother him less and less. He wasn't really sure what to do.

So he found his way to the very end of the pews, and stopped. Peering at the two with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. What the hell was this?

"Then I suggest you deal with the Terminus promptly, before I lose my patience..." The being was now starting to sound impatient, merely of Solus' presence. "You have waited for 3200 years! I'm damn sure you can wait a while longer." Solus' irritation was escalating.

"I cannot."

"Why?" Solus interrogated as he violently threw his arms outwards.

The being remained silent, observing the mortal's actions, his essence.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Aaurus! Why won't you answer a single question?"

Mairyell, too curious and fed up with being dragged into difficult situations by Solus, spoke up. "I don't think he's the only one who should be answering questions at this point," the look on his face was very clearly annoyed. However, his eyes betrayed him as every few moments he would glance at the one that Solus had just referred to as Aaurus. Aaurus, the god. The shock didn't hit, and neither did the awe. Perhaps it would come later.

His voice fell on deaf ears, as neither Solus nor the so called Aaurus acknowledged Mairyell's presence. It was like he wasn't there at all. Just a ghostly presence that haunted this Ancient Cathedral and bore witness to an argument between a god and his sword.

"You will find all the answers soon enough..." It answered Solus.

"Oh, like I haven't heard that one from you before." Solus' sillouette shook its head. "Why do I even bother..."

"You bother, because I command you... You know the consequences of your failure... Its head turned to Mairyell this time, its single eye, staring straight through Mairyell's chimeric soul. "Your long awaited guest has arrived... Make the most of the time you have... Or it will be the end of us all..."

---

Suddenly, the strange dark world was gone, and Mairyell's eyes snapped open. He was back in the House of Grim. Solus' frustrated tone jolting him back to reality. "Damn it!"

Jolted back into his body, or at least that's what it felt like, Mairyell took several steps back and then sat down. The shock of whatever had just happened hit him. The hunter's voice reached him, but he did not react except to quietly speak to no one. "What the hell." His voice was easily audible to anyone paying even the smallest fraction of attention.

Put simply, Mairyell was rather dumbfounded.

Next to them, Zi stood by silently staring at them from the floor where she had sat down with her legs crossed. It was obvious that something was going on and it must be shocking if they were both so out of it. Despite her curiosity she didn't speak up and just gave them time to come back to their senses, absent-mindedly playing with her feathers. She had spent the past half hour doing that while she was waiting for leads on what she should do next, if anything.

Solus, still on his knees, was staring at the ground in anger. "Damn him to the depths of The Beyond!" After several seconds he sighed. He didn't even notice Mairyell speak. The fabric of the Void was still slowly receding from his mind, leaving vivid afterimages behind. It was then when his senses returned fully, and he noticed the Vampire, and a human presence inside of the library. He looked up at Mairyell with slight confusion, and then looked around the ruined Library. "What the hell happened here?"

"You happened." Zi spoke up, slightly more grumpy than she actually felt. "Your wings, to be precise. They're formidable but really inconvenient, I see why you got rid of them." She smiled, attempting to brighten up the situation slightly.

Mairyell was rubbing his temples for he felt a headache coming on. His senses had fully come back to him, though his sense of balance had not. "The hell was that Solus," he said, somewhat breathless as he half glared half stared at Solus in wonder, or shock. He did not like the impression he was giving Zi either, but this was ridiculous. This was almost worse than the Beyond had been.

He felt a bit nauseous, disoriented, and dizzy. His body felt achy, but the aching was--at the same time--not physical in nature.

Solus' puzzled expression remained as he looked at the two guests. Mairyell drew his attention with his question. "Wait... What are you...?" His face twisted into realization as his left hand palm opened to reveal a black sphere in his hand as he glanced at it. His eyes slowly rose towards Mairyell. "You touched me, didn't you?"

He only nodded, still trying to regain his composure so he could stand up and punch Solus in the jaw, but only after he'd gotten a solid explanation. The hunter'd earned it.

Not entirely content to be ignored any more, Zi stood and walked over to Solus, throwing Mairyeil a long glance to confirm if he's ok. As she came to stand at Solus' side she leaned down, staring at the black orb he was holding with childlIke curiosity. That hadn't been there before. Was it some sort of demon or essence or something completely different? Staring at it didn't provide any answers but she knew it wasnt a part of either of the two men. The hunters had their ways, she knew, and even when they first met, Solus had proven his competence... but something seemed off this time. Both behaved like something had happened that they didn't have complete control over. She couldn't blame them, it wasn't often that you saw someone lose consciousness and -not- fall to the ground.

"So what is this all about?" She asked, raising her gaze at Solus.

Before Solus could explain anything, Zi of course cut him off with questions of her own. He stood up off the ground and looked at her, scanning her face to see who she was. His memories of Zi flicked by like flipping pages of a book. Finding his memories of her and matching them to her face. Now convicted that the woman before him was Zi, he began to speak.

"I'll keep this short. The world ends in 2 years. And I need you to help me resurrect a dead gatekeeper to help me stop it."

"Ha!" The girl sneered. "That's a bit too short, dont you think?"

"I did say I was gonna keep it short." He turned to Mairyell. "And what you saw was Aaurus himself..."

Mairyell had barely managed to get himself back on his feet. The Chimera's words did not help him at all and as such Solus only received a glare. Mairyell rubbed his temples and finally felt himself stabilize enough. As his composure was regained, his emotions stopped running quite as wild and he rethought punching Solus. Things were serious, and that had been jarring, but it had also been his own fault for interrupting the man. "Ugh," he rubbed his head and looked to Zi, "You ever heard of the Chimeric Lord?"

Zi, whose jaw had fallen open at the mention of Aaurus hurried to snap It shut and stared at the vampire. Despite the name sounding vaguely familiar, she shook her head. It was far easier than explaining that you remembered some things of a few lives and they weren't all yours.

Mairyell nodded gruffly, unable to hold back a slight smile. She was really in for a surprise, especially if she thought Aaurus was a jaw dropper....

"And if you thought that was a surprise... Here's the real deal..." Solus said.

---

"...and currently, he is the Chimeric Lord, or inhabits his body anyway..." Solus, done with his explanation, shrugged. "That's the gist of it all, anyway."

Mairyell, throughout had watched the woman with a certain vigilance. It had taken Solus and him awhile to properly explain the details and while Solus had done most of the work, Mairyell found himself somewhat...daunted by the reality of things. Hearing it again did not help. Nonetheless, he'd survived plenty already, so there was no reason why he couldn't survive this. Perhaps he could even gain from it. He wondered about Zi though...and any others who might happen upon this information.

For the state of things was indeed grave.

Zi's naturally tanned skin seemed to have blanched out to a colour much more similar to her alabaster hair. At one point she was actually hyperventilating and had to sit down as her knees gave way. She had a brush with this creature. It was ages ago but the memory of it was still fresh, the wound opened every time the night kissed the day farewell. She knew one day they'd meet again. And what the guys said didn't make the situation any less difficult. In fact, it made it worse. She felt like she was between a rock and a hard place. And, in actuality, she was.

"And you want me to help you resurrect a Gatekeeper and get all sorts of unwanted attention, without any promises for success and with only you two as my potential protection? Is it that important, really? One Gatekeeper more or less?" She asked, trying to quell her fear. "It's not going to undo anything, not unless you destroy Hazumi as well and restore both gates and all three Gatekeepers. Perhaps not even then!" She was rambling, panic speeding her speech and shredding it, but she couldn't stop herself. Images of her life flashed in front of her eyes as if she was on death row: Emmet, Olivia, Azel, her job, everything she couldn't give up on. "What's to tell you that we can win this, those creatures are way out of our league! We're just flies under their boot, the worst we can do is give them a shout and tell them exactly where to step! Maybe if - if we stay put and wait for all this to be over, maybe we can survive, somehow! Maybe they'll be too busy with each other and won't even care about us!"

A sympathetic expression crossed the vampire's features as he listened to, and sensed, the intense fear and panic that Zi was displaying. He could not blame her. He was just glad he'd been somewhat prepared for what Solus had told him when he'd heard it, otherwise he'd likely be just as much a mess as her...or he'd have just detached himself from the situation and gone on living. Still, with his hands having relaxed, as well as the rest of him, Mairyell looked at her with eyes that understood how helpless and terrified she probably felt.

He waited for her to finish her rant, the emotion in her words making it impossible for him to find himself annoyed with her panic and irrational behavior. What could you expect? People simply were not made to deal with the forces that they had just informed her were mounting against them and every living, or otherwise, being in all three realms.

This was dire, he could feel it in the air. It was thick with the feeling of tension, everywhere he went. It didn't matter, you couldn't escape it. Not in heaven, hell, or on Surface. Letting a moment or two of silence go by, Mairyell finally sighed and moved over towards her, eventually sitting down. Before he'd done so he had given Solus a look, a look filled with what the man would know was a message. It told him to wait and to be understanding. He knew that sometimes Solus just had no capacity to really understand how normal people functioned. Mairyell was only somewhat better because he had been around them for his entire life. He had not been absent for the last 200 years...unlike Solus who had been gone for the majority of such.

Putting a hand on Zi's shoulder to draw her attention and focus, to ground her, Mairyell attempted to lock eyes before he spoke. "Zi, you've seen him before...haven't you?" His tone was grave and serious, but held a tone of empathy as well. It was calm, but there was a pain in his eyes, an old pain. "You're not the only one. He plagued me and my sister, Aeris, for the majority of our lives. You're right, we might not have a chance, but I'll say this. If we stand idle, we forsake any chance we might've had to begin with. There is always the possibility that we could succeed...even if our enemy is something beyond our comprehension."

Closing his eyes for a moment, his brow screwed up a bit, a sad look on his face, the vampire eventually opened his eyes again. Now they shone with a bright blue glow and the chimera's essence shifted slightly in the direction of a more human feeling. His predatory aura was gone, before her sat what she might recognize as a very resolute and determined human. His shoulders were squared, but comfortable, his back was straight, and his eyes were strong, unyielding. "I know we can win, the possibility is there. I don't care how slim it is. I've seen miracles happen. This demon, no this man," he had to take a breath to make the distinction. It was hard to recognize that the Lord of Chaos was a person too, rather than an embodiment of evil.

He exhaled slowly, evenly, before continuing, "...he does not want it to win, for it winning means that he is also destroyed, and that everything he has done over his...considerable lifetime, was for nothing. So really, it is just a matter of deciding between two things." His face hardened, becoming gravely serious once more, "Will you act, or will you let yourself and everyone you love, all the innocents of the three worlds be swept away and destroyed, their lives rendered null." It was plainly a question, but he said it with such conviction and seriousness that it was obvious what the answer should be. He would give her a moment to reply before he gently squeezed her shoulder, a comforting gesture, after which he would rise to his feet and give her some space, his eyes drifting briefly to Solus.

He knew things were bad, but over the last 200 years he had learned to recognize that there was hope in the world. It didn't matter how bad shit got, there was always a chance for something better. Always.

Despite the initial flinch that Mairyell's touch had caused Zi couldn't find the strength to resist his comforting words. Her cynical nature was struggling to unite with the panic, feed it into a monster that would forsake the whole world, along with anyone in it. But it was an inner battle, one only obvious in her quivering eyes and once Mairyell locked his with hers, he held and calmed them. He was overcoming all her defences with words that gave her not only compassion but hope as well. Maybe if it wasn't Mairyell it wouldn't work. Maybe if she didn't see the same fear buried in his own, now human eyes, she wouldn't let him calm her down.

Defeated, with tears streaming down her face that had started unbeknownst to her, she nodded, biting her lips hard. She thought she was done with this. Done with saving the world, fighting the odds, feeling so, so very mortal.

Like a firefly, once you burn bright, then you've burnt yourself out.

Zi gulped and steadied herself with another nod. She had to try, it was never an option not to. No matter how hard she wished it was.

"Ok then..." Solus nodded. "Mairyell. You're free to go. I'm sure you have other business to attend to..."

Mairyell nodded in reply and glanced at Solus and then Zi, "See ya 'round..." he then walked towards the library's exit before turning, "...oh yeah...good luck." He smiled slightly before his eyes met with Solus' flaming orbs, his expression becoming serious. They needed to talk later, but there were other things to take care of.

Departing the dilapidated mansion, Mairyell took off and headed for Loom, tracking his sister's scent. Seemed like she was near the Academy. How interesting.

Lazarus- Finch’s Loft- Early morning two days prior to the start of the School year.

It was raining again, The man stood once again in his studio only today it was a very different scene than the day before. The window was fully thrown open and wind and irish rain swept across the room. No papers stirred as the tables were bare of food, books and paper alike. No fire fought back against the torrent of rain and cold wind which flurried into the room. The fireplace stood totally empty. Devoid of fire, ash, or wood. The music stand had been disassembled and packed away along with the Violin and sheet music which had accompanied it. The book shelves and been reorganized and covered by white sheets which rippled in the wind. Any books the man might need had been packed away by a stream of moving professionals.

The room had been prepared for a time devoid of the man's presence, save for a single item which the man stood before. The painting has complete now and it showed a woman in the bloom of her life with hair the color of a dying fire, eyes which were the color of liquid emeralds. The painting took in her bare shoulders which were a milky white contrasted with the straps of a black dress. Her lips of ruby red looked like they had been painted with bright blood and the soft curves of the face let the eye wander across a face which would have brought any man to their knees.

The sharp chill of the wind didn’t reach Lazarus as he now wore a coat of wool over a long sleeve button down. Blue jeans covered his legs, terminating in lace up black boots which protected his feet from the rain and cold. He’d wrapped a scarf around his neck, it still smelled of her he’d made sure it would never stop. The mess of blonde hair on Lazarus head had been hidden beneath a Longshoreman’s Cap. Lazarus flat grey eyes took in the painting hunting for flaws within the painting and the essence he had infused into it to protect it from the ravages of time. The essence also tugged at the heart strings of any viewer making them feel a part of what Lazarus had felt for the woman. But it was only a pale shadow of what Lazarus felt.

Suddenly Lazarus pulled an electrum cylinder form under his coat. It extended and he smashed the end of it upon the floor. All of the water in the room was immediately pulled out the window and the windows snapped shut against the rain outside. With a sigh Lazarus rubbed his thumb on the cylinder basking in the pool of emotions and memories trapped within Esperacchius. “Im sorry Kathleen.” With that Lazarus flung the white sheet in his right hand over the painting of his beloved Kathleen and turned walking out of the studio and into an uncertain future….

Lazarus- 221 Hickory Ave. Loom - Early After noon One Day before the start of the school year

Lazarus stood framed in the window over looking Hickory Ave. The flat he’d purchased in Loom was largely a hide away for him and Marry when she needed to be away from the academy. There was a nice Irish pub up the street to remind Lazarus of home and the architecture was old english as well as the interior decoration. Lazarus chuckled to himself “Old English” was quickly becoming “Ancient English”. Lazarus missed the rain though, and the smell of the irish sea.
With a sigh he turned to his desk which he had brought with him for Finch’s loft. On the desk sat a black oak case with intricate locks on the outside. With a pass of his hand Lazarus disengaged the locks with his Will moving the intricate pieces into their proper positions. With a click and the hiss of air the lid unseated itself and Lazarus raised it. Inside sat a sword unlike any other. The blade was an irridescent silver with two edges, the blade terminated in a smooth point on one end and on the other it ended in a hilt made of the same black wood as the case. The Hilt was carved in the shape of a dragon with its body wrapped in leather straps to form a grip for the hands. The hilt was long enough to be wielded in two hands but not so long as it could not be wielded in one. Lazarus had always liked the versatility of the hand and a half sword or “bastard sword”. The Dragons head was the pummel of the sword and in it’s mouth was a chunk of amber cut and polished. This was no ordinary amber as within it swirled energies that could drive the mind of a lesser being insane from staring too long into the Void that sat at the heart of the sword. Lazarus reached down and picked up the blade holding it flat in front of him point at the ceiling. “it’s been a long time…”

With that Lazarus reached into the wooden boxing a produced a sheath for the sword made of Ash and Black leather which could be belted over the shoulder or at the side as the wielder preferred. Leading the point into the scabbard Lazarus slid the sword home with a solid snap of wood on wood. The Sigils carved into the Hilt and Emblazoned on the leather came to light while the amber radiated beams of an ominous red light. “You seem hungry...Dracul” The sword seemed to warm at these words and Lazarus felt the weight of the dead, their essence stolen by the sword weighing heavily within the sword and in Lazarus soul. “You will feed soon enough, there is a storm on the horizon.” With that Lazarus belted the sword onto his waist, feeling the familiar weight settle into place and an aura of death settle around him. “Here we go again..”

Lazarus- Finnegan’s- Loom- First day of School

Morning
Lazarus sat at the bar staring at a tumbler of Irish whiskey. It hadn’t even been all that long of a day but for some reason Lazarus had simply given up on his endeavours for the day. He sat staring into the tumbler.

The air smelled of ash and sulfur as Lazarus strode through the flurries which had been kicked up from the battle. His Revenants had been reduced to charred bones as they had detonated upon death one by one, and the zombies had, had their flesh seared away as Lazarus head detonated them as well when they swarmed the angel. The Battle Angel had put up a hell of a fight but this was the end of it. Scorched earth crunched under Lazarus feet as he traversed the open space between him and the Angel. The Angel was kneeling in the ash with a pair of scimitars. Lazarus conjured a lance of ice about two feet long which floated in the air above his hand from the water in the air. With a flick he hurled the lance at the Angel. It was faster than he’d thought as it launched itself from the ground and shattered the lance with its scimitar. Lazarus smirked, he hadn’t even bothered to draw Dracul. The Angel roared and beat its wings launching itself at Lazarus. The swords whistled to through the air but Lazarus simply reached out his hand. The air rippled with the energies of entropy, the swords slowed and began to deteriorate. The Angel looked surprised. Lazarus reached up and drew Dracul as the scimitars labored towards him. Lazarus brought the sword up and shattered the now rusted scimitars of the Angel with Dracul. The Angel roared in frustration and came at him with its hands, It didn’t matter. Lazarus conjured fire the length of Dracul and slammed his will into the Angel’s chest. It shattered the Angel’s ribs. The Angel impacted an outcropping of rocks and lay there its wings broken and coughing blood. “Did you really think you stood a chance?” Lazarus approached with Dracul trailing through the ash behind him.

“Your kind are quite arrogant, rightly so I might add you are typically quite superior to humans but Warlocks are quite...different.” Lazarus crouched down with Dracul pointed into the dirt with his right hand holding the hilt. “Your little attempt at asserting your dominance is over. You’re not going to hurt others any more.” With that Lazarus stood up and pointed Dracul at the Angel’s chest. “Good bye” With that Lazarus leaned on Dracul and it plunged into the Angel’s chest. It tore out the Angel’s essence eating away at it as the soul fled leaving behind just the unconscious essence. The sent of searing flesh permeated the air

Lazarus sighed and downed the rest of the tumbler before reaching over the bar for the bottle of Irish whiskey and poured himself another glass. Perhaps he’d do a bottle of cider after this. After all it was still quite early. The whiskey went down smooth and when he was done he decided against the cider and left his money on the bar before meandering back to the loft. It was almost a dreary day, not quite enough cloud cover but hey you can’t have everything. Pushing open the door to the loft he descended the stairs towards the basement he’d added the first day they were here. Hopefully Marry was occupying herself, he felt bad leaving her to her own devices but before school started he had more than a few things to take care of. Taking the stairs two at a time Lazarus descended into the warded space below the building. He’d had to bring a few things with him, this he was loathed to take from the safety of Finch’s Loft but things he could ill afford to not have if things went south.

He passed a series of coffins, those had been fun to transport. Housed inside were an even dozen Revenants complete with full body armor, Automatic rifles and enough ammo to lay waste to a small town. Lazarus ran his hand along a series of pull out shelves with names marked on them. They were the bleached bones of death enemies and allies. While he’d never been able to prove it Lazarus had found that particularly powerful or skill individuals always seemed to make excellent Revenants. A table had been set up that looked like it belonged in a machine shop but it was what Lazarus used to craft his equipment. As an alchemist he only needed the essence of the substances he was working with. Gone were the days of working with herbs and other useless things. He could turn water into alcohol with the right essence and enough time. Lazarus snickered at the thought. Walking over to a desk which he’d set up for working on formulas for spells he pulled open the drawer on the right side of the desk and took out an enameled case. Opening it he revealed a set of eight rings. They were forged out of carbonized steel. He slipped them on and checked the dexterity of his hands by opening and closing his fists. Whenever the ring made contact with one another or impeded his grip the steel flowed like molten metal into a shape more convenient for whatever he was doing with his hands.
Satisfied with the rings he replaced the box in the drawer and rummaged around for another case. This one was significantly larger. The desk shuddered when he dropped the box on it. Opening it he hefted the vambraces out of the box. While rather small in size the bracers were incredibly heavy. To the casual observer the bracers looked like ordinary metal but Lazarus knew better. The bracers helped him to do many things that he needed to have raw matter to do. Which was why the bracers were an alloy containing tin, copper, gold, silver, aluminum, lead, iron and trace amounts of dozens of other metals, but the reason the bracers were so incredibly heavy was due to the fact that they were largely composed of depleted uranium. While not practical as a fashion statement, the uranium held a large number of subatomic particles per molecule which meant Lazarus could easily transmute it into other things as needed.

Snapping the bracers closed around his forearms the metal rippled and was absorbed by his body. It would distribute itself along his skeleton making Lazarus heavier than he appeared while not impeding his ability to move. His muscles had long since compensated for internalizing the Golem bracers. The other neat trick with having a metal coated skeleton was it made it much harder to break your bones. With a laugh he recalled a comic book hero from his youth who had a metal skeleton and claws that he could extrude from his fists. What was he called again? the badger? no that didn’t sound right. Oh yes. The Wolverine. Lazarus chuckled at that.

Wandering over to a door set in the rock beneath the foundations he disengaged the wards and locks set on it before smearing his blood on part of it. The blood was absorbed and the door opened. Within was recessed a statue. Lazarus gave the statue a looking over. Checking the dozens of symbols in place all over it. Next he assessed the essence structure of the object, checking for deterioration but he could find none. Crossing his arms he stared back into his own face reflected in the statue. Hopefully he wouldn’t be needing this.

Lazarus- The Academy Loom- First day of School

Evening
Lazarus tugged on his Longshoreman’s cap as he approached the front of the Academy. He was late. One of his formula’s had captured his attention for more time than he’d intended. As he entered through the front he was stopped by The Academy’s security and asked for identification. He gave them a scathing look but produced an ID. After some scurrying they gave it back and he was on his way. By the sound of things the opening ceremonies were in full swing. He hoped Marry had been alright getting here. With a flick of his wrist the one of the doors to the ballroom opened silently and just enough for him to slide in. A sudden feeling made him turn his entire body a complete 90 degrees to his left. Just in time to miss someone coming by the door. The individual gave him a startled look but Lazarus just ignored him. He was too busy assessing the sheer amount of Essence within this room. Good thing he hadn’t brought Dracul.

West Heights Apartments, Kenan.

Juan, evening

It didn’t take too long for Juan to reach his apartment. Personally, he would’ve been there sooner but his three escorts were being rather difficult and stuck a little too close to his ass. Now Juan never minded being the center of attention yet even he had limited, and having them practically molest his personal space was it. His shoes clicked against the concrete sidewalk in each step toward his living space, his head flickered to the side to glimpse behind him. Their shadowy figures kept creeping closer and closer seeming to believe he didn’t see them at all. What foolish things Darius’s minions were, he mused to himself with a playful smirk. He farther ignored them as he pushed up the small steps to the apartment complex’s main door and entered the lobby entrance.

It was a shit hole really.

Mostly a single hallway, the peeling paint, yellowed from its original white by years of smoking, stain, and grim collection was the first thing to greet him while he continued onto the stairs leading upwards. For once he was grateful for the seemingly endless flights because it bought him time to think about how to deal with the chasing men. Fortunately they hadn’t realized Juan knew their presence was there or hint he intended to do something about it. His steps were all that echoed among the many apartments which over looked the stairs, his eyes shifted in time to see an occupant’s soured look before she slammed the door shut, likely to ignore the impending trouble and just pretend it didn’t exist. Of course Juan knew why. It was a sound strategy to avoid a visit from Darius’s, unlike some demon enforcers, goons who didn’t merely just start a skirmish over something as simple as money matters. Even Darius knew it was bad business practice to just kill off someone who owed him money or witnesses but Juan seriously doubted the fox’s alternatives were pleasant. Luckily he hadn’t any aims to discover that out himself.

Juan twisted off to one of the higher level apartments in moments. His hand reached out for the door handle, giving it quick turn then pushed it in. Most folks locked their door, even Emmet insisted he did, but little did the sweet thing know ol’ Juan had a few secrets up his sleeve which made their apartment safe. Without giving any clues he had seen them, Juan closed the door behind him casually.

Once in, he spin on heel back to the door and began to remove the coats hooked there sloppily. Once thing he loved about Emmet was the fact the sweet thing was messy. Namely since it made hiding his little half-finished surprises easier. Not even Zi, who had visited their apartment several times, had even once caught a glimpse of the odd symbols scattered throughout the apartment’s interior. Or at least drew little attention to them if she had.

Juan’s lips twisted into a smirk while his finger flickered into a flame, the heat hissed at the air and ate at the wood when he placed it against the already mostly singed surface. Black emerged during his fingertip while he finished the branding. Each movement was carefully etched and so précised, it was amazing he didn’t take a day to complete the single missing component. The hardest part was finding the right mixture of movements and symbols which both met his purposes and didn’t explode when he left it half finished. It wasn’t a matter he wouldn’t have liked explaining to the renter’s insurance if half the apartment was in ruins. It was something he thanked the memory of Saerne for, without his aid in the researching it would’ve otherwise impossible. He finished the last of the symbol then he stepped back to admire his work for a moment. It should buy him enough time to prepare.

His path took him straight to his own room, in a few quick and determined steps, as he paused just before he entered. In the handle was another set of designs which snaked and vined their way in a slight Celtic like manner throughout the frame work, making it look like an exquisite work carving that seemed to glow at Juan’s approach. Despite its jaded look the magic was still very much alive. He had begun to regret his several paranoia induced safety measures when he summoned his weapon, his dominate hand griped the blade and his other held splayed out with the palm facing it. This was going to sting just a little but it was unavoidable. Slowly he brought the blade edge across the blackened skin causing it to split and bleed, the thick red dripped heavily from the wound then onto the floor. Pit..pat, pit…pat. His ear tilted to the side when he heard the sounds of soft steps edge towards his door. Juan knew, with pity, his time was trickling down and he needed to get a move on it. He sighed halfhearted when he smeared his wounded hand across the markings marring the image. In moments a fire started to spark then consume the delicate lines like flames consuming gun powder until nothing remained, just a blank surface.

Juan wasted little more time, instead just pushed his hand over the knob, turned then moved inside. He usually spent most his time here whenever Darius and Emmet didn’t occupy his attention, though it was clear he didn’t sleep. First clue was the fact the bedroom was mostly bare. No bed, dresser, and the windows, the only light source beside the old oil lanterns, were painted completely black as oppose to just curtains. Light particles were very tricky to seal out after all with just fabric.

Slowly, he began to close in on the only evidence of inhabitation: a long, wide center table.

At first glance it all looked like a chaotic, mad scientist’s mess. Several items which ranged from ancient chemistry burners bubbling liquids to stone grinders, scribbled notes on aged paper to various powder jars were clustered together into groups all over the surface. Glimpses of ink spills and charred marks, either symbols or results from badly executed experiments, were found here or there among the piled papers. So many papers down, an edge or side would’ve stuck out too far and ruin the prime stack’s image. It was Juan’s own personal system which made finding papers much easier then ruffling through it. He reached for the only two burners still on as the liquid settled back into a murky color once more. Juan felt a slight disappointment, they been so close to completion and now he would’ve had to start over again. Another ten years’ worth of work wasted.

The demon had little time to spare in mourning his loss. He bent down on one knee allowing his arms to reach for a large satchel and placed it near the table’s edge. It was the only empty space large enough to hold it. Working quickly, Juan began to gather up jars, a few burners, notes and more into the bag’s bottom. Everything he might need to speed up Emmet’s healing if it was needed as well as create some hell on Darius’s property.

Once he was satisfied with the current contents, Juan’s attention shifted to a box underneath. He jerked up the lid and revealed a small series of vials; each had different spell ingredients and had a surface barely big enough for someone to scratch a design on it. There were five key colors: bright purple, white, black, light brown and green. Each one had different essences within them and held an important purpose, though what that was only Juan knew. In addition, next to the box was a sack.

He didn’t have much time to deal with that right now, but he snatched it never the less.

Finally finished Juan placed the vitals in his pocket. His mouth held the sack between his teeth and other hand tossed the satchel over his shoulder before he transferred the sack to it, his free hand slammed the lid shut from any prying eyes to what else was inside. Slightly loaded down he rose to his feet then returned to the main room, crossing it for the kitchen. Shortly he stood by the little fridge of horrors where Emmet and him kept their storages, a fortunate thing currently, as he reached into the nearest cabinet for a cheap, empty blue cooler big enough to hold a small stash of ice and several blood and plasma packs. He managed to fill it with all the blood bags, half a dozen at least, a few IV drips, and about six bags of plasma all neatly inside. Then buried those inches deep in ice where it would keep them nice and cold. There wasn’t any time for a symbol creation at the moment. Next was the emergency travel first aid kit. It had rested just beside the cooler, containing everything from bandages to needles, and other essentials for any EMP’s needs to patch badly conditioned victims.

Juan only hoped it was going to be enough when he shoved into his satchel too. Or force stuffed it was more like it.

Now he needed to brace himself for the upcoming battle. He pulled the sack around to face him and opened it, his eyes spotted its contents and a smile crossed his face. Inside was a pair of arm bracers and a pendant. Each had odd markings, both smith and carved in by burning, that again seemed to glow in excitement at Juan’s presence. Juan’s eyes brushed the blackened wooden circle and noted its marking, almost Nordic in origins, which he held for a moment then placed around his neck. Next came the first bracer that he easily strapped on, but paused when it came to the second. He needed additional protection just in case these damn things matched a Warden demon’s power, something he doubted, yet the risk wasn’t something he was willing to gamble on. At least yet. Juan moaned in frustration at his misfortune then sparked his finger into a hot brand once again. He gritted in pain, his body hunched over, while he traced yet another odd marking and this time into his own flesh.

How far he had come, Juan slightly mused through the pain, then without waiting for the stench of charred flesh to die placed the last bracer on and strapped it tightly there. Just in time he realized when the door sudden gave away. It shattered into pieces, chunks flew and clattered onto the floor in great force as three eye pairs stared at him through the door frame’s ruins. Lovely. Three men, each different but dressed identical had started to wordlessly file into the apartment, completely ignoring the fact they had just destroyed the door. Secretively, Juan reached for his brown vial then with a thumb started to scratch into the glass surface during his rise to his feet.

“Well, didn’t know Darius was sending me entertainment. Else I would’ve offered you a coke.” Juan made a sharp quip, his arm hidden from their shaded eyes. It wasn’t hard to feel uncomfortable. He was expose and dangerously venerable, neither notion a comfort in this situation.

One of the men broke from the others and reached out for Juan. The demon reacted impulsively and underestimated his strength, his arm whipped about at the man’s head. A bone sickening crack was heard on impact. Blood, white bone, and brain spilled out onto the floor in moments. Before Juan could register what happened, forgetting his strength, the man was a shuddering corpse who soon stilled in his death. In seconds the body twisted and seemed to burn away. Never there. Juan blinked in surprise, his head looked from where the man was once then to the others, their figures tensed and teeth bore in united aggression at him. Juan couldn’t help but feel he had just made the scene more interesting in his mistake.

“Well, I’m impressed. So that’s what a Warden demon’s strength can do. I’ll need to watch how much force next time.” Juan smirked and then asked in a hopeful tone. “So boys, how about you just run back to Darius and apologize to him for me about his little minion. What say you?”

Another loud hiss was his answer.

“Suit yourselves, I did warn you, little ones.”

By this time, Juan’s thumb had etched the last bit of his task into the vial’s small surface. He watched the men a moment longer, his arm jerked down when the two sprang forward. Inwardly knowing the effect, his hand snatched his cooler then headed to the nearest exit: Emmet’s bedroom window. He heard the vial bust on the floor in his wake, his body enlarging the window’s small hole as he curled on the plummet down, mainly to hasten his escape. Meanwhile the mixture of sand and water had landed directly between him and them, the floor shimmering in reaction to the magic intertwining with it. In moments the very surface changed, turning it into quicksand right under the mindless brutes’ feet. The two were instantly ensnared. Their feet buried on landing within the bottomless sand, rapidly sucking up to their knees thanks to the landing. Several yips were heard and Juan’s smirked though he knew Darius won’t give up that easily. Like over watered mud it sucked them into the watery grit, their bodies would slowly vanish underneath in minutes. Though it won’t hold them for very long.

As if reading his mind, one of the minions rocketed through the wall and tore after him. The man’s body stiffened then crackled to rearrange the joints, though it was still ran down on the wall after Juan, flesh fell away revealing black fur underneath. Clothing ripped and were left in shreds to float away while it became a shadowy fox , the true form of Darius’s minions. Little wonder Emmet was uncomfortable around them, Juan commented inside his head now seeing this little transformation for the first time. Wind whipped around Juan’s form, tugging and pulled his clothes, his arms wrapped about the cooler to prevent it from slipping out of his grasp.

The thing came into quick.

Juan felt pain ripple through his arm when the fox leapt. Its teeth sank into his cradling arm and tore into the ligaments just shy of the bracer. Damn it! mentally cursed Juan at the creature’s mindless attack. His eyes glinted with annoyance and anger while he bit back a scream bubbling into his throat. He knew there was only one way to get the blasted creature to let go. Painfully he inched his body to curl into a tighter ball, his foot pressed to the fox’s stomach. Then he plowed a kick with full force into it. Bones cracked. The fox yelped, its teeth released and crashed into the brick side of the building. Stone and metal crumbled in its landing, raining down to the earth while Juan continued to free fall. The only bad thing was Juan had been knocked from his directed fall. He had originally intended to reach out and take of the nearest metal guard on the fire escape, but now that was impossible for his reach alone.

Not out of ideas yet, Juan’s hand summoned his blade back into his hand. He watched, mentally counted the seconds between each blurring platform. One…two…three. The ideal moment came and out flicker his chain. Yes! It clinked then wrapped about a rail in victory. Juan’s smile faded when he felt his arm nearly wretched out of his socket, his body came to a halt in its falling motion.

“Fucking Hell!” He screamed when again he was racked with pain, his one arm instinctively released his cooler to ease his almost dislocated arm. It fell out of his reach in seconds to the ground.

“Shit…” Juan cursed spotting his foolishness. Reflexively, his foot lifted bring his foot up. How he managed it was something which amazed him, the foot hooked about the handle as it swung there perilously close to being smashed on the street. It might’ve only a few feet below but still, Juan wasn’t fond about going back up to get more blood again.

He breathed in relief. A second too soon, his pendant flickered a warning and Juan’s eyes shot upwards. Teeth and a tongue was all he had time to see causing him to release his grip. The chain vanished back into him just when his body swung to the side, closer to the building. His knees screamed in protest when he landed roughly on the fire escape once more, his body rolled back upright just in time to see the fox’s body reach his perch. It growled in fury, eyes a hot white like fire in its hottest form before it launched itself at Juan. It didn’t surprise him these things were slow to learn, his foot slide his cooler to the side along with his sidestepping of the attack. He countered with a fist smashing into the beast’s side. Again the result was rather satisfying like before. It yelped and pulled back, not realizing Juan wasn’t going to allow a round two. Already his chain was again materialized in his hands. Then it he lashed it around the kit’s pitiful throat, leashing it when the blade painfully hooked into the dark fur. It tried to pull away but it only shrank the noose he created. Tighter, tighter it became while Juan kept his senses out for the other fox minion, until finally it crumbled. Blood spilt over its neck and soaked the black with a red highlight, the fur clumped together, while Juan released his weapon.

He edged closer to examine the corpse, and then raised his foot above its head. The sound of its skull being crashed was music to Juan’s ears as it disappeared like the other. A bark, sharp and close, told Juan it was time to leave. Scooping up his cooler and ensuring his supplies hadn’t broken in his little fight, he dropped to the street and disappeared in the night.

He was off to see Damon and his aid to plan.