---

---

The clouds were white today, Ais observed from the window in the high office of what she'd learned the inhabitants of the city had come to call 'the Spire.' She found the term as strange as she did the humans who had likely coined it. After all, a spire thinned at the top, and the building in which she stood did no such thing. It was tall, surely, but it was not the tallest building in Ominar, no it was perhaps the fifth tallest—though that was not to say that it wasn't still a monolithic structure in its own right.

Her gaze looking down from the cloudy upper reaches of Ominar, Aismael's attention shifted, and so her thoughts followed suit, abandoning their former ponderings entirely.

“Madam, Exeo,” sounded a small voice from across the room. The Exeo judged that the voice came from the same location that the entrance resided within. Someone had entered her office unbidden. Her body turning a quarter of the way around so that her head could turn to see the small Prae who stood in the doorway, the Exeo found a small smile slipping over her lips.

“Maedriel, I presume you've returned with the reports?” Her question was accompanied by her body gracefully completing its turn, before approaching the small, 4'10 Prae. She was still young.

“Yes, Exe--,” she begun, only to be interrupted by her blue and gold haired elder, who had closed the distance with deceptive swiftness to place her hand on the young woman's shoulder, “Please, it's Ais while we're alone, alright Maedri?” The young Prae nodded meekly, her eyes, with hesitation, turning up to meet her superior's own.

As she did, a shiver went through her, causing Aismael to smile, a glint in her eyes. “The report, dear,” she requested gently, causing the girl to sputter briefly before hurriedly handing over the folder of documents. Smiling as she took hold of it before, to the girl's relief and dismay both, she turned away and walked to her desk. Once there she splayed the files out over the surface before feeding her vis into it.

Swiftly the documents were scanned by a golden light, before being displayed holographically several feet above the surface of the desk. “Hmm, troubling,” Ais murmured after several minutes of silence.

Maedriel shifted uncomfortably as Ais spoke.

“So our little friend is likely in town then?” As she said it, she glanced over her shoulder to see Maedriel nod, her eyes averted all the while.
“Yes, very troubling. However, perhaps we can use this to our advantage,” she said, trailing off, a smile forming on her full lips. “Yes, I think we will make use of his presence. Let's send a message to him, shall we?”

In confusion, Maedriel opened her mouth to speak up, but she found that only a squeak came out. It seemed that the girl was quite literally choked up by the sheer presence of the Exeo before her. Ais chuckled, “Don't worry Maedri, I won't make you deliver it. Why don't you go take a break, mmm? You've done well in bringing this straight to me. Come back when you've relaxed some, we'll talk.” Dutifully the girl, bowed, and turned away in a whirl—her actions swift not because she disliked being in the presence of the Exeo, but because of the bright red blush on her cheeks as she fled the room.

As the door shut, Aismael couldn't help, but laugh again to herself. She knew she ought to stop teasing the poor girl, but she simply couldn't help it—she was far too cute for her not to after all.

Nonetheless, there were unfortunately less pleasant things she had to attend to, and so it was that Ais circled her desk, seated herself behind it—legs crossed—and lightly tapped its surface. There was a brief pause, before a male voice came through, “Yes Exeo Aismael, how may I assist you,” the voice queried. In response, Ais smiled and said, “Connect me to the offices of an individual known as The Broker.”

“What shall I tell them,” the voice replied.

“Tell him we're looking for Dranai, and tell him I'll personally bring his favorite--if he plays nicely.”

“So it shall be Exeo Aismael. I will get back to you with his reply within the hour.”

“Thank you Haesari.”

“With pleasure, Exeo.”

It was then that the transmission ended and as it did, Ais turned in her chair and looked out onto the city once more, her thoughts returning to what their God-Queen had laid out for them. This would only be the first step of many.

The first step to purge the Licentia from Medius. The first step to ascertain the prosperity of their race for ages to come. Queen willing, it would not fall short of expectations and things would progress swiftly.

'Queen willing,' the Exeo thought with an absent chuckle...

'Queen willing.'

---

---

The streets were dangerous, the human knew this and while people had once convinced him otherwise, the world had come to prove them fools and he the fooled. When this had become fully and truly apparent to him, he had cast aside the veil of other's perceptions, and taken to believing only what others could prove to him.

Yet he was a mage.

“Yes, the greatest irony that someone who so believes in empiricism would find themselves practicing a thing that doesn't even seem to follow the laws of physics,” he said, talking to himself, something he often did. “One of these days I'll find a way to stop everyone, myself included, from thinking it ironic,” he muttered to himself, hoping that one day he could put an end to the phenomena, as, for whatever godawful reason, people simply loved to point out that bit of irony to him, even when they hardly knew him.

It was both pitiable and annoying, the first because each one of them thought themselves the first to point it out, and the second because practically everyone did so. It was tiring.

Turning down an alley, Dranai barely stopped himself from running head first into what he first thought a rather tall man, only for a less cursory look to reveal a massive Licenti. “Ah, my apologies,” he said, nodding to the much taller being, before stepping to the side and walking past. He was relieved when the Licenti didn't turn and throw fire upon him, or attempt to strangle or crush him to death—he hated it when they tried that.

Going on his merry way, Dranai shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his sweater, shielding them from the cold coastal air of Ominar. Why couldn't the place be a bit more like Florida or something, he wondered—knowing all the while the scientific reason as to why. Exiting the alley, Dranai's gaze fell upon the street, where cars didn't whizz by in blurs of movement—wait.

Fullstop.

Pause.

Back up.

Dranai's eyebrows rose, before his eyes narrowed as he realized that the cars on the street weren't moving when he wasn't. When he moved, the cars appeared to move as usual, but when he stopped....

“Well isn't that some trippy, fishy, sketchy nonsense,” he exclaimed aloud in irritation. “You know, it's rather irritating when you amateur mages try to enscorcel me with subpar illusions. This isn't even good,” said the mage as he extracted his left hand from the pocket of his sweater. In its grasp was what could have been either a timepiece or a locket—it was hard to say.

As if to punctuate the appearance of the object, Dranai noted a flash of light pierce through the side of a building, making no sound, to strike at his person.

Needless to say, it didn't find its mark, instead the mage's arm rose in one swift arcing movement, intercepting the shock of light, before completing the arc. As his arm came to rest, a burst of warm white light spread from the item in his grasp, which had revealed itself to be not a locket or an antique timepiece, but instead to be both and more. It was his Focus.

Gaze narrowing further, Dranai's silver eyes began to glow faintly as his breathing steadied. Gradually he opened his Ostium, accessing his inner power. “Very well,” he said as he drew a small circle with his Focus. “Let me teach you a thing or two about illusions,” he said, and so it was that the false world around him formed ripples, as if it were all a reflection on a pond.

Then, while their attention was on trying to maintain their little illusion, Dranai, in oddly silent fashion, snapped the fingers of his unoccupied right hand.

Instantly a wave of invisible vis spread from his form. A moment passed without incident, then another, and another, and finally with a faint pop the illusion ceased to be, replaced by the reality of five young men, none of them older than twenty, either lying unconscious against buildings, or with their heads between their hands upon the ground between where Dranai stood and several buildings as if they'd been trying to close the distance between them.

Around them gawked several naive strangers, none of which knew anything about what had just transpired. However, perhaps more naive than they were the young men who had chosen him as their target as while everyone else saw things as they were, the young men thought the Dranai had unleashed a choice piece of fire magic on them.

The reality was clear, they were all enscorcelled. Perhaps more amusing than this fact, was that the illusion was sustaining itself by way of its victims' ambient vis. Surely it would be a confusing situation for the authorities to deal with when they arrived.

Speaking of which.

“Say, you there, would you mind calling the authorities? I think these young men have been using illusion magic to mug poor unsuspecting passersby. Oh, and if you would, tell them that Dranai Llamant sends his regards, mmm?” The confused woman nodded before extracting her cellphone and dialing nine-one-one. Waiting till she started explaining, Dranai left only after he was satisfied, heading down the street with more than a few eyes glued to his back.

When he'd made his way several blocks from the incident, the human stopped, waiting for a light to change. After a minute it did so and he crossed the street among a small group of other people. Reaching the other side of the road and continuing on his way, Dranai frowned slightly and brought his Focus up where he could see it, and flipped it open to see the timepiece.

3:45 PM

His frown faded slightly, he still had plenty of time before his lecture. Pocketing the Focus, Dranai took to running the lesson through his head, making sure he still remembered it all. However, before he'd gotten even halfway through he felt a buzzing vibration against his leg. “Hmm,” he uttered as he extracted his phone, finding that he was apparently receiving a call. Answering it before pocketing it once more, he spoke, “Yes, this is Dranai of the Institute, whose number is this?” There was a slight edge of curiosity and irritation in his voice.

The irritation only grew as the caller answered, “Why, Dranai, it's me a'course. Good ole Bree givin' ya a check in.” Dranai extracted his focus in swift fashion and a shield of vis instantly erected itself around him as he twisted his wrist clockwise. “Bree, what are you up to, and who hired you,” asked the illusionist, a fierce and serious cadence to his words.

"Oh, just an old friend who I happen to owe a favor," responded the voice. Dranai grit his teeth.

“I will give you more to shut down this little operation and leave me alone,” responded the mage in a level tone. There was a dangerous edge to his words as he added, “This doesn't need to get nasty, Bree.”

In the same moment, Dranai felt his shield fluctuate, a portion of it flickering briefly. 'Not good, he's already nearby. How long has he been following me...?'

“No can do bud, I've got quite the pay in on this one, plus I owe her.”

With his shield flickering again, Dranai found himself fed up with playing nice. “Very well, I warned you, Bree. Remember that,” he said, his tone low as his shield dispersed and a wave of shimmering silver light spread outwards from his form, blanketing a radius of eighty meters.

The illusionist hung up the phone and pocketed it, but as he did so he shock went through his entire body and he found that his muscles had ceased to respond to his commands as he crumpled to the ground. He noticed only belatedly that he had been tazed from behind. The last words he heard before losing consciousness, were uttered by the same voice that he'd heard over the phone.

“Ain't no escapin' one's responsibilities, ol' Drai. When I keep my word, I do it well. Sorry bud,” the man said, his voice possessing a distinctive—if jazzy—New Orleans accent. It seemed that for once the Dealbreaker had decided to act in accordance to his other title: The Dealbroker. As he drifted into unconsciousness, Dranai had only one question: Why did it always have to be when he was involved?

---

---

Sky cast with clouds drifting through the city-scape, with roads and plains stretching away from the great city that was Ominar. While the rest of the city went about its daily business, some in the grind of survival, others in hiding, and others yet living the high life—some few who had in the past few weeks held protests and rallies advocating for the oppressed Licentia, and against the oppressive presence of the still fairly new Prae leadership. While there had been some arrests, by and large the protesters had been allowed their little rallies and meetings in the streets.

However, with their message meeting the deaf ears of the Prae, they had grown dissatisfied and further disenchanted with their progress and so with just the slightest push and assistance from a certain local business owner, a gathering had been arranged.

Taking place in the outskirts of Ominar where fewer people existed to bear witness to it, a gathering of like-minded, angry, and disenchanted individuals was taking place. Arriving at random intervals as the sun neared the horizon, the small abandoned warehouse gradually filled with bodies and the sound of conversation.

Within were the beginnings of something bigger than any one individual, as now the Resistance was forming in the minds of those who had made up their minds about the ruling Prae.

Among those gathering were some of the cities more prominent figures, some former politicians even, as well as a particular Hunter.

Perched on a nearby building, his silhouette apparent against the backdrop of the sunset on Ominar's coast, Mairyell Kasio watched, intrigued.

People from all walks of life, including even the rare Prae, flocked towards the building in small groups, though many gave the Prae who had gathered a wide berth. He noticed that most appeared to be Licentia....

Or rather, as he sniffed the air, they were surely Licentia. It made sense, he thought, that the race would be willing to gather when they were, as a whole threatened. However, for the sake of his and those whom he cared for, he felt that he too ought to follow.

This in mind, the hybrid casually stepped off the edge of the building, falling two stories, before landing with his knees bent. He felt several muscles tear briefly within his legs, before swiftly mending himself—his soul core pulsed within his chest and he smiled slightly, before the expression dropped and he casually joined a forming group of Licentia and humans who were entering the building.

Pointedly, Mairyell left behind small droplets of blood as he walked, exuding it from his pores, and manipulating it with his mind. He dispersed the droplets into a fine essentially imperceptible mist as he noticed the number of people entering the warehouse thin out.

If Prae authorities were dispersed to deal with the budding uprising, he'd know first.

Attention turning towards the inside of the building, the vampire noted that someone had brought in a raised podium and some chairs. It appeared they had not expected such a turnout. However, the hunter surmised that many of these people wouldn't stay. People were often creatures of convenience, and to rebel and possibly put ones life or livelihood at risk for the sake of an uncertain cause was far from convenient.

Wandering among the gathered parties, Mairyell noted some recurring subjects that stood out among the hum of noise. Among those topics were unfairness, governmental corruption, and most strikingly: Disappearances. Frowning slightly he found a wall and leaned against it, closing his eyes. Focusing his senses, the vampire sifted through the conversations he could hear--which were a great many, trying to find out more about the situation as according to this gathering resistance.

"I'm telling you, they took him! He didn't answer his phone for three days! He told me the week prior he was afraid he was being followed, but I didn't believe him. I should have... I should have listened... When I went to the police station, it was nothing but the Prae. I tried to ask what happened, but all they would tell me was that a man fitting his description was cited as being a Licentia! He wasn't! He was my brother!" The frail voice of a broken woman hung in the air. It was evident from her voice that she was shaking, and holding back sobs to the best of her ability.

"Katherine, you need to calm down." Another voice, this one slightly more androgynous cooed in an attempt to calm the woman.

"I can't! What if they hurt him?! What am I supposed to do?!" After her outburst, the woman's voice fell away in place of gentle, quiet sobbing.

His frown deepening as the scene played out--even if he could only hear it--Mairyell couldn't help but sympathize with the woman, having gone through something at least somewhat similar in the past. Remembering that long lonely and hopeless time was hard though, even now, so he swiftly put it out of mind by shifting his focus once more.

In another area of the room he heard another group talking about a similar occurrence, so he searched again and found the same thing. It was disturbing to know that so many people were losing those they cared for merely because they had expressed their concern for the status of the city and its policies--which had been changing a lot since a year or two ago. While he had thought it somewhat suspicious then, it hadn't been enough for him to look into personally...but this. This sort of thing made him wish he had taken notice sooner.

Opening his eyes, Mairyell glanced over the crowd, noting that even some Licentia--who were not widely known to get overly upset or broken up about even tragic events--were noticeably upset.

This disturbed him further. He needed to tell Aeris about this, but he had decided to stay, at least to see what sort of direction this Resistance was going. If he agreed with them, then he might even give them a hand.

Still, that was a decision for later.

---

“How much have things changed. Better yet, what’s going to change next?” Both questions ran through a boy’s mind as he wandered the streets of Ominar; crumpled paper in hand. Each step was accompanied by a sharp, twinge around his shoulders and the thumping metronome of a migraine.

The wrinkled memo clutched in his sweaty palm was some sort of map, drawn crudely in blue ink. He weaved in an out of sidewalks, frantically pacing through constipated traffic to find this destination. The past 30 hours were a disorganized, bright blur, a partial amnesia that drained his mind and prevented sleep for the past night. He could pretend and it at home, shrugging it off to his father as just too much caffeine and being sick, but the confusion and unsettling disparity was too much to bottle up. On the back of the note was a cursory, choppy message, illegibly scribbled with a dry highlighter:

“Don’t go to work with Dad tomorrow. Don’t tell. Follow this. Head out in afternoon. Take a weapon. Figure this shit out.”

At the bottom, there was what appeared to be some kind of signature. It had looked like the individual had started to write “TE” in highlighter, but it was scribbled out with a ballpoint pen (perhaps the highlighter had bit the dust) and “Blaise” was written beside it. Surely, if he has written this, he would have remembered. Despite his doubts, he knew his wasn’t in his right mind, thus he took the message’s chance as to find a quick fix.

Just as he continued through the gray, urban paths of the city, he passed the office in which Dad worked: Snapdragon and Co. Law Firm. Lights bleed through every window, one even appeared to have a red siren flashing through the glass. It was at this point where Blaise would have turned around and ran to his father for the problems, but it was in his owns words not to go. He shied away from the big building, nothing good could come from all of that commotion.

The map led him deeper and deeper into the less recognizable part of Ominar until he eventually found the last turn and landmark. It led to a humongous, indistinct crowd of individuals, some normal humans, others more bizarre; their atmosphere darker and a bit peculiar. Some held up signs, some chanted, and even some were just sitting at peace and reading books. Was this where he was really sent?

Blaise un-clipped his katar, just to be sure and kept it on his hand as he approached, pretending to be as assured and jovial as his normal self. Something was up, but perhaps that something had the answers he needed to find.

---

Step after step, he walked. A walk, however, did not properly explain his action for a walk implied a mere unhurried attempt to move from a location to another and nothing more. The most accurate description for his action would be a leisurely, unhurried stroll through the outskirts of Ominar, regardless of how swift or quick he was.

His eyes were not focused on the way he was going. While at times he would look ahead, he seemed unusually distracted by whatever minor detail caught his attention. A weed on the ground, the rumpled clothes of a passerby who avoided him, the sky. It felt good to see those things, yet he knew that he would grow tired of them. Any given location was bound to feel repetitive given enough observation, at least, anywhere he has been to.

With a sigh, Archene slowed his pace and looked at the sky once more. 'This should be the right time,' he thought to himself as he walked towards the entrance of the warehouse. Before entering, he took a brief look around to see if there were any real counter-measures were made in case their enemy came, but he gave up before seeing anything, 'It still feels rather strange to be on this side of a fight.'

Archene proceeded inside the warehouse, his gentle steps catching only the keenest ears; brief, slightly indifferent eyes awaited those who peered curiously at him. His glances took more than a moment when looking at the Prae as he reasoned with himself that they have their reasons to come. Whether they are good or bad, he would certainly find out, eventually. Seeing the Licentia steering away from the Prae, he sighed quietly shaking his head, 'They have become too docile... it seems.'

Looking around more properly, he met an interesting scene to said the least — rebels from many walks of life, of even different races coming together for a single cause. Or at least trying. Some people looked at him with curious eyes. The reasons might vary, but the clothes were certainly not helping him to be inconspicuous. After all, who'd wear something like a haori for an event of such kind... on that side of the world... in a location where it was more likely to get dirty for no real reason? The answer for the question could be easily obtained by looking at him. The why or what kind of person, however, were entirely different affairs, and would need more time to answer than the observers were likely to have in hands.

It was not as if he was attempting to avoid attention in any case — not that anyone right in their minds would attempt to avoid attention or even vaguely hide themselves in such clothes — he had, in fact, come personally to ensure that his presence would be noticed and that was exactly what he was going to do. His liking for the clothes themselves was, among many other things, part of an entirely different affair. They were also comfortable in any case, so why not?

Sparing no further glances to the people congregating, Archene thought briefly on the possible outcomes and ramifications of the events he planned to presentiate himself. If nothing went wrong, he'd have more things in his favors later on, whether by getting himself to a considerable position in this revolution. If things went wrong, the possibilities were boundless, but mostly acceptable — it was not as if his death would be prioritized because of his presence here. Furthermore, there was much he had to hear from the... rebels.

---

---

---

---

As he stood on the ledge and gazed out over the light bathed horizon, only one calming thought appeared in the forefront of Anton's mind:

The cityscape was a beautiful sight to behold, indeed.

With a slight grin that immediately exhaled an audible gruff, Anton fell purposely to find an impromptu seat on the edge of one of the taller buildings in the city. He sighed once more and pulled around the messenger bag on his back. There was not much to see within the medium-sized, black and red pack, but an older and worn looking book emerged before the bag slid back around to its previous position. The hazel-eyed man impatiently leafed through the tome seemingly looking for some specific page before he finally settled somewhere near the middle. Despite having the same look, his eyes drank up the words they surely tasted once before for a moment before averting to the sky above as Anton fell backwards and laid himself out. The day was clear, the weather was tolerable, and the few clouds there were crawled slowly in an eastern direction, but the annoyed courier beneath them was not satisfied. "Screw it all. Just screw it," he muttered to himself as a soft vibration on his chest caught his attention.

Reluctantly erecting himself into a sitting position on the ledge once more - jean legs and sneakers dangling in the air - Anton reached into his inner jacket pocket and brandished a large black slate. The screen brightened under the light of the sun, but he tapped the display and put it straight to his ear rather than take a look at the caller ID. He already knew who was calling. "Let me guess. They're complaining, right?" He nonchalantly spoke into the speaker of the phone. A rustling of papers seemed to smear over the earpiece eliciting an eye roll from Anton before a female voice finally replied.

"The hell do you think? Of course they're complaining you jackass!" She shouted. Anton sighed.

"You know, you really should take it easier in life. With that kind of attitude you'll only end up with grey hair before your time."

"The only thing I'll end up with is an eviction notice and a prescription to Adderall fuckin' with you. Do you hate money now, too? We already know you have something against my sanity."

"Don't be like that, Rose. It was just a detour. It was supposed to--"

"I know, I know, it was supposed to be a shortcut right? But something always happens. What happened this time? Actually, don't even tell me. Don't even disrespect my ears anymore than you already have. Just deliver the damn package. I swear, if you weren't the only who could get passed the patrols discreetly, I would never even work with your unprofessional ass."

Anton stretched a bit and slowly stood on top of the ledge overlooking another rooftop that was lower in height - though not too much lower - than the building he was on, but not too far away for a jump. "Yeah you would," he replied adjusting the strap of his bag across his chest, "My charming disposition and winning personality makes this kind of job bearable for an operator like you."

Rose audibly sucked her teeth. "Like hell they do, just hurry up. You're cutting it close as shit," she said before a click and a dial tone echoed. Anton chuckled and returned his phone to the interior of his brown jacket. He had never been late on a delivery a single time, but he truly did enjoy giving his operator a heart attack. He backed off the ledge and grabbed the strewn tome, placing it back in his bag, before turning to face the edge of the roof once more. He was only a few feet from it, but he never needed that much of a running start. With a brief exhale and focus in his mind of the duty at hand, Anton launched forward with a burst of speed and energy, toed the ledge, and pushed himself far into the air. Wind ruffled his hair as he descended toward the lower rooftop with increasing velocity. The excitement building within pulled a smile onto the man's face as he neared his landing. Legs outstretched and held together, as soon as his sneakers made contact, the ground below began to change rapidly. Hardened cement rippled and pulsated in places where Anton's body touched down in a shoulder roll the on-foot courier had performed thousands of times before. The phenomenon occurred until he came up from his roll and shifted immediately into a forward sprint. Indentations left from the landing slowly reformed into the flat, hardened concrete it was before - much like a soft mattress after one gets up.

A few more brazen jumps and a quick slide down a pipe on the side of a building brought the courier to ground level. Ignoring bewildered bystanders and cars, Anton sped across a four-lane street, vaulting over the hood of a parked car before disappearing into an alley directly across from it. Brick walls, transformer boxes, and the odd homeless or shady hooded guy zoomed by in the peripheral vision of the speedy delivery boy as he navigated between obstacles, up over and fences, and around corners which led into narrow stretches. The route through the back-alleys was one that Anton was extremely familiar with and one that allowed him to reach most of his regular clients quicker. The particular recipient of the package he currently held was an older man with little to no patience. He was an alleged member of a small-time mob that specialized in money lending. The less fortunate would be granted loans despite their past histories and with exorbitant interest rates that would suddenly skyrocket only a few days after their initial contract acceptance. Most of those who were granted the illegitimate loans would not be able to pay them back anyway, but the fact that they got hit with a repayment notice within the first week was especially underhanded. Of course, none of this was Anton's business.

Anton worked as a courier simply due to the fact that it paid well and he was capable of properly working with more dangerous types. The morality of his various clients was of no concern to him and as long as he got his full payday, his silence was usually assured. Even when he did not get his payday, the better answer was always to handle the situation internally rather than involve authorities. Local law enforcement was bad enough, but god forbid a bored Prae enforcement officer somehow caught wind and got involved; the result would not be good for either party. Anton finally began to slow down as he sighted the establishment he was looking for. He emerged from an alley onto a bustling sidewalk and took a moment to regain his breath.

The building across the street was a simple storefront built in the midst of other random businesses on either side. A glass window, slightly recessed into a red brick wall on the right side of the door, was painted with large white letters that read Easy Loans. It was impossible to see through the window due to shuttered blinds just inside, but people always seemed to be going in and out. Anton shook his head, wondering whether those interested really did not know the reputation of the place or they were just too desperate to care. Adjusting his jacket under the strap across his chest a bit, he checked the time on his phone and crossed the street. He was one minute late. There was a first time for everything.

A quaint bell announced his presence as the courier strolled through and raised an eyebrow. He was always curious as to why the business was not as updated as most other places. The floor was laid with white and black tile that caused any type of shoe to echo a sort of clop sound when a body entered while the walls were painted a strange white and olive color scheme with an antique ceiling fan hanging in the upper middle of the open space. All in all, the interior was not very big with only a front desk at the left from the entrance and a line of chairs on the right wall. Just beyond that were two doors opposite one another. The door on the right wall led to a bigger area with cubicles to handle different customers and their loan needs. The door on the left was the only door Anton ever entered as it led to several different portions of the building, one of them being the room he needed to get to. Swaggering passed the front desk with his hands pocketed, Anton gave the half-attentive woman manning the station a knowing look and she nodded towards the left door - no spoken greeting meant Mack was pissed.

Malachi Brenson, better known as Mack, was the owner of Easy Loans and an alleged member of a small-time mob. Unlike most gangster types, he was not a very imposing man. His bald, rough, and grizzled looking visage was more round than defined and found itself attached to a medium-sized, flabby torso with slender arms and stubby looking legs. To add to his non-threatening physicality, he was also a few inches shy of six feet tall. In this case, however, the mobster had proven capable in spite of his lackluster appearance. The whispered rumors spoken in hushed tones said that Mack's propensity for violence combined with his surprisingly charismatic personality meant that what he lacked in physically imposing prowess, he more than made up for in loyal followers and weapons that got any job he wanted, in the city, done. The Brenson family in general were all known for their astounding leadership qualities and capacity to get things handled in the face of insurmountable odds - in that regard, Mack was just living up to the reputation his surname carried. On this particular day, he was currently deciding whether to live up to that reputation in a loud or quiet manner.

The knife slid under the skin of the apple fluidly as Mack methodically peeled his golden delicious. Two distinct knocks pierced the near silence of the office and a quick nod sent a generic looking henchman over to the door to welcome the guest. Anton took just enough steps forward to allow the door to close behind him and he opted to wait a moment while the henchman returned to his post - a sign of respect to wait to be acknowledged and told to come forward. He was greeted with the same black-finish, wooden desk and grey carpet he had become accustomed to seeing every time he delivered a package to Easy Loans. The office was also just as small as he remembered with the two guards standing on either side of the desk looking as if they felt cramped in their respective positions and only about fifteen feet between the door and the desk at the end of the room. Even the dim lighting of the circular fixtures in the ceiling flickered every once in a while. To Anton, it was a painfully shitty kind of place, but Mack had always said it was not his actual base of operations.

"Ya know why I peel the skin off my apples before I eat'em? It ain't like I have anything against the skin," Mack said calmly, still focused on peeling. Anton pulled his hands out of his pockets to let them hang naturally while mentally groaning. It seemed like it was time for another one of Mack's ramblings.

"Nope. No idea."

"It's 'cause even though I got nothin' against the outside of the apple, sometimes I just don't like to deal with the shit it brings. It gets stuck in your teeth, it can be annoying to chew, et cetera, et cetera." The knife came to a stop just as the last bit of skin fell off onto the pile resting on a portion of the desk. Mack set it down calmly.

"Well, that's absolutely fascinating. I got this package though, so I should probably just leave this here and be on my way," Anton replied as he unveiled a small white box from his bag and began to move forward towards the desk. The guards on either side took step forward as the courier got close prompting the hazel-eyed man to stop.

"See, that's where I'm at with this relationship we got goin' here. I got nothing against the guy who brings me my packages personally, but I'm feelin' like I'd rather deal with the company directly, ya know? Then I wouldn't have deal with shit like my fucking deliveries not gettin' here on time." Mack sat back in his large, leather chair and interlocked his fingers. Each guard took another step closer. Anton was silent for a moment before he chuckled. Mack had no visible reaction.

"As much I'd love to make a rebuttal to that, the thing is, you know I'm on a schedule. Besides, as we both already know, I'm the only person who bothers to even bring your shit anymore. Or did you forget that you've dealt with or alienated every single other person? We're in hard times right now with the Prae and all their crap and I'm the only guy who can still get here at all. Oh, look. I made a rebuttal anyway. Now, you going to hold up your end or are we going to have to work this out right here and now?" Anton folded his arms and waited. Mack did not move for a moment, before a sly grin stretched onto his face.

"Look at this, boys. The only man who can talk like this to me and get away with it. I'm goin' soft." Mack opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a small piece of paper. At the same time, Anton placed the package on the other side of the desk as the guards took a step back. Though Mack was truly a man to be feared, Anton had something of a special relationship with him. That, and this package he was waiting on was more important than usual which prompted the courier to ask for something in return for the first time. Little did his operator know, this something was in lieu of the usual cash payment. She was not going to be happy.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Anton said as he picked up the paper. Mack waved him off and his guards escorted the courier to and out the door.

"The Navigator huh... Shit. He still made it passed the patrols. What a fucking guy," Mack muttered to himself.

Once he hit the cold light of the sun once more, Anton hurriedly looked at the paper; he was pleased to see that Mack had delivered. The small sheet had a location written in neat handwriting. It was supposed to be the location to a potential meeting of like-minded individuals. Individuals who disliked the Prae occupation to the point that they felt they needed to take action - to actually do something about it. Although the courier had never thought about getting involved in such a way before, the rumors of a resistance had intrigued him. With the supposed location in tow, Anton took off at a light jog towards another back-alley.

Even though the meeting place was apparently on the outskirts of the city, it still had not taken long for The Navigator to arrive. He had earned his moniker for a reason, after all. The warehouse was aged and abandoned, but at this moment it seemed like it was more lively than it had been in years. Anton casually strolled inside and slowed down immensely. He gawked at the sheer amount of people in attendance as he eyes darted from left to right and back trying to discern any familiar or interesting faces. Apart from those who looked like they weren't really human, Anton relaxed more when he did not see anyone he knew. What would his family think of him now if they knew he was at a meeting for the dissenters who disliked the government? He had never considered himself an anarchist, but he was interested in hearing what was to be said. At the very least, he had come with an ulterior motive. At that moment, a soft vibration on his chest caught his attention.

"What. The. Fuck. Anton?" Rose intoned. Anton smiled sheepishly at nothing in particular.

"You gotta understand... That my battery is dying and I'll call you back," Anton replied before tapping the end call button on his display. He sighed as he knew he would have to hear it later and turned his attention back to the meeting he assumed would be starting soon. While he wanted more information on this possible resistance, what he really wanted was to meet other humans who used magic in an effort to try and understand his own abilities. He wanted the thing other human mages had that he had never possessed and he thought this would be the place to point him in the right direction - the direction to finding his very own Focus.

Their car hurtles down the dark road towards Ominar and Annalise watches the silhouettes of trees flicker by through the rain. She feels uneasy. No, worse. Dread curls in the pit of her stomach like smoke. It's never been this bad before. She wants to say something to her mother but when she opens her mouth to speak no sound comes out (because it didn't then). The car comes to a abrupt, screeching halt.

Annalise wants to turn to her mother, see her one last time, but she can't (because she didn't then).

She feels the spray of rain as her car door is yanked open before the silhouette of a man looms over her. Wait, that's not- but it's too late, she is swallowed by darkness as she is struck across the temple.

CENTRAL OMINAR

Nel woke with a gasp. That wretched dream, she thought, getting out of bed. It had haunted her for months after her mother's death and it was back, so many years later. There was something different this time. The thought slipped away before she could remember. No matter.

Dressing quickly, Nel left the hotel. She was in Ominar on official business technically, but it hadn't been difficult to convince her guards (minders) to give her the day to explore the city. She would have to be quick and discreet in her task. She didn't know when the opportunity would arise again, the Prae government so rarely gave her permission to leave Priscus. She almost rolled her eyes at the thought, what a kept thing she was.

Outside, the morning sun reflected off great glass towers, warming the air. Here, in the heart of Ominar's wealthiest district where Prae and humans alike rushed to work, Nel could feel that impatience and anxiety lay thick over their heads like a blanket. It took her a moment to realise that it was she, herself, that was projecting this onto them. She stopped to take a breath, calm down, control. The pressure lifted and the rush seemed to slow as people became less frantic in their morning routine. Nel strolled a bit easier with them as she waited for the message which would tell her where he was.

This man, The Deal Broker, had not been straightforward to find. His movement was erratic and unpredictable and due to Nel's minders, she couldn't plan ahead to meet him, she had to find him when she was alone to do so. But it was vital she did. He knew every dark crevice of Ominar, or so she had been told and, more importantly, he would be sympathetic to her story. Nel didn't know why that was the case but it had been made clear to her that if she meant to take revenge on a Licenti, it was the Broker she must go to.

Her source had promised an address by 9am but it was difficult to predict what a human would do after leaving her sight. The effects of her manipulation could last for days but would fade with time. Nel felt a rush of unprecedented excitement and picked up her phone, a moment later it beeped. Thank the Queen, she thought.

Nel hailed a taxi to take her to the address. The clean, busy streets of central Ominar faded into something seedier. Closed shops with broken windows, crude graffiti and grime. As the buildings thinned out to a more industrial estate, a warehouse some distance away from her seemed to project a wave of anger and desperation. She only caught the edges of it, as it lapped against the shore but she could only imagine how strong it must be from inside. It doens't matter, she thought. Nothing did, but her task.

The house she was dropped at was less than respectable. It was unwise for a Prae like her to be here but she was certain nothing would happen to her. Nel called forward her Anima to Manifest. As every time, she felt the markings along her body hum and pulse before her "wings" appeared, falling like smoke around her. As she stepped through the open doorway they bent and warped themselves to the shape around them. Inside, the house was surprisingly well kept, a stark contrast to it's dilapidated exterior. A young human sat at a table playing cards with himself, seemingly alone in the house.

"Excuse me young man, is there anyone else here?" Nel asked, already certain that this was the source she was meant to seek.

"No, miss." He doesn't stop playing, unfazed by her presence.

"I was wondering if you could help me. I'm looking for someone. The Broker?"

"I don't know what you're talking about miss." The boy said earnestly but his words were rehearsed and tinted yellow with a well worn deceit.

"Now that's not quite true, is it? Please, this is of the utmost importance." Nel smiled, letting her words wrap around the young man's mind like tendrils. Soft, calm, relax, they said, it doesn't matter if you tell her.

His eyes were hooded then, calm and sleepy, and his words were a soft, friendly pink, "I'll take you to one of his Bunkers. Someone can contact him from there."

"Thank you, so much."

'me always wan fi pick de ganja...'

It didn't take long for Xavian to adjust to the mainland's tongue, but his mind's dialogue remained as tropical as the scent of his herbal remedy. The light green bud was decorated with fine orange hairs, shaped like the clouds of a busy sky. Gentle, yet firm hands transferred the kush to a metal grinder built along the side of a wooden box. After a few cranks, the marijuana was dispersed into a finely ground state. Xavian, who sat cross-legged on the floor of his studio apartment with nothing but loose harem pants to garb, promptly began rolling a decent-sized joint of the herb.

'a lil' some to ease the nerve... a lil' some to forget ya troubles... a lil' some to heighten the senses,' he thought, melodically singing the phrases in his mind. He then removed a thin, cylindrical lighter from behind his ear, lighting the joint and indulging in the first puff. He let out a gentle cough as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Mmmm...." he hummed as his eyes fell low and the faintest smile kissed the corner of his lips. He knew better than to enjoy the luxury of intoxication when there was work to be done, but all he was looking forward to was an job interview. After all, he didn't arrive with infinite funds to fuel his lost endeavors. No, Xavian had a lot of work to do, and he was well aware of it.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. For the longest time, they had been scattered due to the overwhelming discovery of Prae and Licentia beings. He felt more fascinated than anything, but their sentience rivaled that of humankind; for this reason, he was reluctant to approach or study them in the ways he wished. When he had first set foot in the city, he was welcomed by an angry mob of Licentia who seemed more uncomfortable than the newcomer. He did not know why, but he did know better than to meddle with the disrupted energies of those who had already settled within his new home. Curiosity pulled at his leg nonetheless.

---

'...jus' round that block over by de corner thea' he thought as he walked down a busy road near what appeared to be a merchant's district. He was elevated - a term he used to describe the high he felt off the marijuana herb he smoked on occasion - and did not care if those around him could tell. Xavian still held a firm composure, not disturbing the wave of traffic moving around him, but not being absorbed into the bustling crowd either. He didn't stop to think why the volume of civilians increased with each stride he took, not until he turned the corner and saw the gathering.

It was large and disruptive, and it was located right in the warehouse in which he had recently applied for employment. His senses returned to full function and he realized he probably stuck out like a sore thumb. He didn't resemble any of the civilians in physical appearance nor stature, as every man, woman, and... thing present stood with a sort of purpose.

'Dem the folk that don' wan the prae-mon? Hm... seem like a fair fight to me.'

He didn't sympathize with the Licentia, for he wasn't well aware of their predicament. But he did vibrate well with their cause; if someone had to voice out against oppression, it must mean oppression was present, especially if such a crowd had formed. Xavian, having lost his train of focus, scanned the crowd which now gained his undivided attention.

Within him, he could feel a warm energy, as if his inner aura was stirring at the commotion. He didn't think twice of it; he never did. It was a tease to give it any thought. He knew what magic was. But he also knew that it was a mistress that ever alluded his embrace.

"This seems... rowdy..." he said to himself. He had no intention of fueling or disrupting the movement, but did bask in the idea of spectating. He was no fool though, and had already acknowledged the thought of being associated with the mob regardless of whatever his true intentions are. Still, he had no fear, so he stood.

Five minutes into the scene, he decided to pull out the second joint he had rolled. With a flick of his lighter, he ignited the herb and took the first puff. 'Gon' have quite de story for pa when I ride back home...'

---

---

---

As another day starts, a beautiful, calm morning reveals itself over the "glorious" city of Ominar, accompanied by the slight chilly airs of the coastal wins, rays of light engulfing the east side of the city in a shiny yellow hue.

Transitioning down towards the city's slums, "business" people have started leaving their humble abodes, some of them with smiles on their faces, waiting and looking forward, hoping for another day to bring them variety, good...or bad, in their less fortunate lives, while others not as optimistic, with tired, annoyed gazes, head to the market area to prepare their food, cheap accessories, clothing and other sorts of shady merchandise stands to sell and make a living.

Above said market area, where the typical chattering noises and yelling have already set in and smell from all different kinds of food - which despite being the slums, are still pretty decent some would say - in a four story building, not quite new..obviously, but neither falling apart, a still sleeping red haired girl is constantly trying to avoid the morning light that decided to keep focusing directly on her eyes, swaying left and right through the cheap blind hanging from the window.

---

God....damn...fucking...light! tugging her thoughts as she lazily shifts her head in the opposite direction, spreading droll all over her left cheek. Tali..we should wake up already. Today's the bi.. Noo..nooo...want to......sleep some mo...oore. Today's the big day, today's the meeting of that so called resistance, we should prepare for the day and chec.. The resistance can wait.....I need my beauty sleep , the view zooms out to reveal this fabulous creature, sleeping in a weird and badly executed yoga position, kind of like a twisted wet towel thrown on the bed..well mattress.. Do I need to remind you, how . Every . Single. Time . you're late to a meeting despite it being morning and the meeting happening in the evening? "ALRIGHT, alright...SHEESH, what a sleep pooper..you never let me enjoy my sleep Tark." I love you. accompanied by a mental wink.

Talana graciously rolls off the mattress, banging her head on her drawer's corner in the process "GAH! FUCK..." as she slowly gets up and feels her foreheard with her hand "This better not leave a mark..." Don't worry, it won't ruin your beauty love, a warm sensation from within flows through Talana's body as she starts giggling sweetly to herself, "Love ya too hun! Sooo...what's up for today?" while starting her mourning routine of washing herself and preparing for the shopping part of the day As per usual, grocery shopping, breakfast, tending the garden or meditation as you like to call it, some deliveries need to be made and I think we have sparring training with Samuel later today, and of course... the BIG EVENT, the meeting which should be starting at around dusk...do try not to be late this time Tal. as Talana sighed You know how I feel when someone patronizes me Tark....I'll do my best, okay?

As the day passes, Talana does her usual routine of buying the groceries and other household tid bits, watering and fertilizing the vis garden, time in which they get thoroughly energized after which they spent the rest of the time until the meeting with Sam running around the neighborhood, doing some small deliveries for an extra buck.

---

---

---

Obviously, being late - though only by 10 minutes...so far -, Talana rushes towrads their long time friend Samuel's place, who's been with them since the underground days and who trained Talana in the good ol' art of physical, street fighting, but also some technique focused combat.

Having fun? Hmhmhmhmh. "Zip it Tark, I need to focus.", using her leg boost due to Tarkan's imbued powers, Talana speeds across he streets, maneuvering around carts and people, sometimes doing a flip or two, jumping over small groups of children, all bunched up together and blocking the way, but as she turns the corner she find herself in front of one of the more busier districts in the slums, "Damn it, I was hoping to get through before the rush hour...", she sighed. I guess I'll have to take the usual alternative route as she squats and bursts into the air with a force that kick the dust behind her, jumping onto the flat roof of a convenience store from where she starts hopping from house to house towards Samuel's place. Thanks to her improved agility and athleticism, she makes little work of the course, which she's done a number of times already. Having reached the last ramp, she leaps forwards, grabbing onto a solid chain that's always been there and swinging herself onto a fire escape stairway fro which she simply hops off, from two stories high into a well execute roll directly into Samuel's back yard, then looks at her phone. "HA! I keep getting better and better at this..AND faster! Enjoyed the ride Tark?" Yes Tali, it was faahabulous! No...really, you did get better at it and at using the boosts too, you did well, I'm proud. "Gee thanks DAD..."

"Who's makin' that racket?!"..a topless buffed man, with long hair tucked into a high top bun, leaving a few strands shadowing over his right eye in addition to his ducktail style beard - it suits him well - shows up... it's Samuel, carrying a baseball bat over his shoulder and a thin piece of grass between his lips. "Is that how you greet all your visitors Sam?" smirking. "'ts not like all ma visit'rs come crashing from the sky y'know...glad t' see ya Tal! You'r as gorgeous as ever..hey Tark, how's it goin' in ther'? Must be quite somethin' bein' in one'f these beauties or well...connected or what y'all call yerselves." "We're good Sam, we're here for the sparring training we talked about, all good for it?" Is it just me or does he only want more touchy touchy action with you? Jealous T? Don't worry Tarky, I'm only yours <3. "Yeh yeh everythin's set, I'v cleaned the yard for a "safer practicing environment"", that being said, one could still see a lot of junk and useless crap that Sam hoarded over the years lying around, but alas, a clean spot near the tree in his yard was indeed prepared.

As he goes to put down his club where it belongs, Talana took off her leather jacket and well..pants, and got into something more suitable for the training, a comfortable army attire with an undershirt.

"All righ', come at me, no mercy, don' hold back ya hear me? Remember what ya learnt." Samuel gets calmly into position as if he did this a thousand times and..who knows, maybe he did, "Heh, that should be my line!". Talana also gets into position and slowly starts getting closer in a circular movement with a really easy, soft bounce here and there, hands held high to protect her head and chin sinked between her shoulders.

"'at's right, good defense...but how's yer reflex department?" Samuel goes for a strike at Talana's head, as she ducks, swaying to the right immediately responding with a quick right hook and a left uppercut, easily dodged by Sam "Not too shabby, nice counter, tho a tad bit predictable, try not to rush TOO much.", she doesn't say anything, still concentrated on the battle, her eyes focused on Sam's, he nods and taunts Talana into attacking him.

She slowly bounces close, going in for a leg sweep, kicking the dust up making Sam do a front flip over her, kicking her torso with his heel, staggering Talana a bit but not by much. Noticing that Sam's back is towards the tree she tries using a flury of coordinated strikes and leg kicks to make him back up into the tree as much as possible, but Sam is well aware of it and doesn't let her push him too close to it.

Talana takes a step back and boosting her legs strength and speed, runs a few steps forwards and leaps in for a jump kick easily dodged by Sam ducking beneath her, but as he turns to face her, due to her momentum, she lands with on leg on the tree, shifts her position and pushing hard against the tree, again with the enhancement, does a backwards hurricane spin attack with such a great force that even with Samuel managing to block said attack with his thick forearm, it still threw him into the fence cracking a plank in the process and knocking the wind out of Sam for a brief moment. "Pheeeewoue! Now that's what I call a healthy kick m'lady, cute use of the environment there heh!" "Thanks, had to improvise a bit." throwing Sam a wink.


A few more minutes pass, both of them taking slow, steady, precise strikes, counters and dodges, both of them having landed a few hefty blows to each other.

At one point, on one of Sam's stronger but slower and longer punches, Talana manages to avoid it again, ducking under and to the right, grabs Sam's arm with both her hands, turns around and attempts a shoulder throw procedure, slamming him into the ground at her feet, Talana proceeding to mount him and starts whaling on him with a series of punches, which curiously enough he dodges quite easily. "OH NO! OH MY, HELP, OH, NOT MA FACE, NOT MY PRECIOUS BEAUTIFUL FACE!" covering his face, letting one eyes be visible, which he opens jokingly due to Talana having stopped with the blows "HARHAR, very funny", realizing the position they're into "Hey...aren't you enjoying this a bit TOO much Sam?" raising one eye brow with a smirk, "Huh? What? Aren't you heheh?" as he grabs hold of her belt and with a swift rotating motion, reverses the position pinning her down to the ground with him on top, holding her arms apart in an uncomfortable position.

"RULE NUMBER..uh..33...NEVER let your guard down for ANYTHING! NOT EVEN for a hot guy like me!..Understood?!" as he gets really close to her face, making really close eye contact. "Got it chief!" giving Sam a peck kiss on the nose, causing him to unconsciously loosen his grip on Talana's arms and defocusing him briefly, enough to leave an opening for hear to land a strong headbutt with what looks like a small bump on her forehead made during their "serious staring competition", making Sam cover his face with one arm as she grabs his tighs and, with enhanced force, rolls him off of her over to the left slamming him to the ground once again, hops over him and goes in for a choke maneuver "SAY UNCLE!..SAY UNCLE!", Sam still dizzy from the headbutt, sluggishly flailing, comes to realize the situation he found himself in. Uhm... Tali, I don't think he ca.... "Don't butt in Tark, I finally got a hold of him! SAY UNCLE ALREADY!!"...After a few seconds of the forceful choke, Sam stopped moving and blacked out.

Sighing, You do realize he couldn't talk because you were strangling him right? Not to mention he was probably still dizzy and confused from your... seductive headbutt... . Talana looking over at the now limp Samuel in her arms, blinks a few times, "Oh.....FUCK I'M DUMB!" giving herself a healthy facepalm with her free hand "Sorry Sam, I GOT CARRIED AWAY OK? GAH! I hate when this happens!" One would think you'd learnt by now, hmhmhm. Yeah...you could say that again. ...One would think you. "I WAS JOKING TARKAN! SHEESH"

Talana picks up the unconscious Sam, and walks him to his improvised rocking chair. "Gee who has these ancient things anymore these days...?" and places him as comfortably as possible in his chair. Who knows when he might come back around, I should look for a blanket i case it gets cold later". She enters his house and easily finds a large, fluffy, red and black plaid blanket and sets out to tuck in "sleepy" Samuel. On her way to the door, something on one of his drawers "shined", a black marker, making Talana smirk mischievously. "Hehehehee!" Tarkan internally sighs.

After tucking Sam in like a really tight burrito on his rocking chair and exercising her...artistic talents, Talana writes an apology letter, puts back her normal attire and leaves his yard whistling innocently.

"Hmm..I wonder what time is it?" pulling out her phone and looking over the time "Oh, only 3:30, I should have enough time to get to the meeting without being late..how's that sound Tark?" Sounds good to me hun! Should be a nice relaxing stroll. Yep, and good thing I had my training for today in case things go sour at the meeting. Yea...let's try not strangling anyone anymore today okay? No promises Tarky, hmhmhm.. . Lord have mercy on all of us. What's that supposed to mean? I love you! <3. Love ya too you big doofus!

---

---

---

Strolling through the streets, following the marker on her phone's GPS, Talana makes her way to the outskirts of Ominar with relative ease without any complications along the road. Arriving at her destination she notices a good number of people have already gathered, some staying out of the building, smoking and talking. A lot of upset and angry discussions can be easily heard as she slowly makes her way towards the inside of the location.

Looking around, she notices among the crows, in random smaller groups, quite a lot of familiar faces, most of them from the slums. When recognizing Talana, they give acknowledging nods then return to their ongoing emotional conversations. Mmh, the mood is kinda sour around here...lots of unhappy people, I mean...for good reason... Yeah, poor guys, let's hope this resistance thing turn out to be something good and helpful. Yeah...let's hope...I..don't feel like mingling..I'll just stay..there until the shows starts. Fine by me love. .

Going near the some covered crates, she places herself on top of them. Talana then takes out her phone and starts playing Futuristic Minesweeper, ignoring the unpleasant discussions around her as much as possible, waiting for the meeting to officially begin.

---

---

---

The weather not having gotten colder, still being a bit warm even at this hour, Sam who actually shifted from coma to sleeping finally wakes up, finding himself extremely sweaty and unable to move.

"WHA' THE FECK?..Wha' happen'd? Ugh...ma head's hurtin'..Where's Tal and Tark? Wh's it got'n dark already and WHY THE FECK AM I BEIN' HELD HOSTAGE BY MA BLANKYYY?" Trying to rock out of his chair but falling over, face first into the ground he managed to free himself from Talana's imprisonment.

"Hmm? Wha's this?" grabbing the letter that was placed on his chair that had fallen down with him.


"Artistic skills? Wha's that s'pposed to mean?" as Sam goes into his house, wiping his forehead of sweat, noticing black spots on his arm.."Wait..what' the?" rushing to his bathroom to look in the mirror only to see a horrible rendition a more or less known internet character, Dickbutt. "Ya gotta be kiddin' me...feckin' hell Talana! proceeding to thoroughly washing his face a good number of times until the lines can barely be visible.

---

---

Lost in the scene around him, the businessman was amused as he looked down at the crowd gathering, listening into all sorts of conversations. To be honest, he found the humans gathered there to be much more interesting than the licentia. They all had various reasons for their fear. Some feared losing power, some feared the kidnappings, and most interesting of all, some actually felt bad for his kind. His kind had preyed on them for centuries, what pity was there to be had? That is why humans would always be his favorite. There were a few prae, and if it weren't for Zeki's prejudice, he might have had fun with seeing them as well. The most respect he could make for them was glancing over them.

His attention was however drawn by one particular licentia, infact, he dared go so far as to guess an Eximius. The dress and power the man had standing, in mild amusement, was enough to support that. There wasn't the level of fear in this being as there was to the rest gathered there. He wasn't the only odd one around. An empty-looking man with dreads was present, who drew quiet the eyefull, as well as several other individuals Zeki could not help but glance at.

"Interesting."

Zeki's attention was instantly snatched away from a buzz in his pocket. Almost magic was the speed which his phone was in his hand, the message read and responded to in seconds. It seemed his shopkeep was having a bit of trouble with him gone. Zeki sighed, and gently kicked against the helicopter beneath him, bring the rotor, with him on it, spinning ever so slightly forward. A helicopter was now on his wish list. He could probably buy one, but where would he put it? It'd been itching his mind ever since he had uncharacteristically managed to climb up of the side of the one in the warehouse, and situate himself atop its blade.

Glancing at a man below him, Zeki dropped a small will-o-wisp infront of him to grab his attention, as well as return his own to the meeting.

"Roger, would you be so kind? Not everyone is here yet, but I'm sure they'll shuffle in. It's about time."

Zeki haphazardly glanced at the window, staring straight at a man. It only lasted a second as Zeki got bored. There were probably people interested but too afraid to go in. Why? He hardly cared. Let them call the cops. Zeki could handle a few. Hunters? That'd be a little more interesting.

The man below looked at the blue pale flame, before looking up above him, having wondered where the leader of the rebellion had gotten to.

Clearing his voice, the man spoke loudly to everyone who had gathered.

"Now, I know you have a lot of questions about what we are doing here. There are alot of different people, from many walks of life. Some human like myself, many licentia, and a few prae as well. We all however do have one thing in common, we are afraid of what our city has become. Many of the prae, no offense to those here, have taken over our city,and changed it for the worse. That might not be so scary, but what they are doing to all of us is. Anyone who disagrees with them 'mysteriously' disappears, and are often labeled as possessed. My uncle has disappeared, only a note left. Who here has had someone they care about mysteriously vanish!?"

Roger waited as an uproar responded, before he motioned to calm down, which took a while. It was hardly charisma, but almost everyone had been angry, and he was painting a target. He couldn't even speak for a few minutes. However he did eventually get the floor back.

"Now, To the licentia here, yes, we know you are predators. Hell, I'm a little intimidated by a few of you, but there's hardly been an incident in this city worth kicking the whole lot of you out. You are all valued members of society, and your magic has helped our fair city.

"To the prae, few as you are, hasn't your kind discriminated against you for the smallest disobedience? Can they not let you have the smallest amount of freedom in this world you now call your home?

"And to the rest of us, isn't it time we took our city back? This is Medius dammit.

"Now, we can't just start rioting in the streets, remember how that turned out last time. I have a...confidant who has helped me devise a plan of what we can do. There are several things we can do. For fear of esponiage, we'd like to keep details to a mimimun, but I can say this. There have been hundreds, maybe thousands wrongfully imprisoned. Many of our friends. We can't let anymore go to that prison. Who knows what the prae in power have done to it?

"Now. we need leaders, people we can trust. Will all those who consider themselves capable join me?"

---

It was a normal day at the Zander’s University of Magical Arts, or fondly referred to as ZUMA, despite the occupation of the Prae nearly a year and a half ago. Nature, however, never seemed to notice. Birds chirped their seemingly endless melodies, trees swayed passively with the breezes passing, and darken clouds loomed over heavy with ripe rain, the scenery through his classroom window creating a subtle amusement within Charles Aeon. It was encouraging to see nature blantly ignore Ominar’s present rulers, the Prae, as it had so many dictators over the centuries and nurtured the hope within all that this point in history wouldn’t last forever.

Sadly, he realized, few might live to see the day it came to an end. Pushing away the thought, Charles’ focus returned to his classroom. The lecture was in full swing with his voice booming out toward the students and each were watching the display of silvery golems playing out his every word in an rehearsed fashion, his feet casually strolling through the desks to spy for any slumbering victims. It seemed like a old scene from another century, namely the eighteen hundred, save for the magical additions.

There was about thirty students filling a room that could seat over a hundred comfortably. Their desks seated about three each and circled a lower, centered stage where the teachers were often required to drone about magical applications or visually display examples in various of ways. Charles, while the professor and unofficial expert on Magical History subjects, wasn’t required to use magic, he felt going the extra mile would demonstrate pride in his profession and improve his student’s attentiveness.

For the most part, he was right. Through several of his fellow professors were skeptical of his success and suspected he was falsifying grades for improving his paid grade, likely purposely marring his name through the educational system. He usually assumed it was because of his image. He was, after all, over a thousand and sixteen years old and stuck in a sixteen year old man’s body. However, his mannerisms and voice often hinted to more experience than peers around his assumed age.

The remainder of his struggle drew an irritating shadow over his earlier pleasant mood. Having more control and awareness of his own actions, he managed to to prevent such emotions from surfacing. His eyes shifting across each student and absorbing their familiar image into his focus, letting their interested faces chase away the recollections away.

Charles inhaled, disguising it in a breath, then continued with his speech. He listened through he knew each sentence down to the very word by heart. This classroom after all was his whole world for the most part and unaffected by the Prae’s growing propaganda over the Licentia. Though he doubted it would last much longer and secretly dreaded the request for his retirement. Some days he imagined the headmaster walking through the door one day to speak with him over his lessons and methods, trying to persuade him to approach it differently.

His currently purple eyes shifted to the display of his golems at the room’s center and ensured they were actively playing correctly. It was more like a recording than actual golems making the complications far less an issue in both Vis consumption and construction.

“Humanity’s potential for magic grew, gradually when the races known as Prae and Licentia made themselves public. This was around the time of 1536.” Charles stated, his vision shifted forward.

The current scene was about two to five colonial puppets, half the size of the real models, they appeared to be harvesting the yearly wheat crop and storing for the winter months to come. They were shortly approached by two more figures, obviously representation of Licentia and Prae. The Licentia was continually shifting between difficult forms, symbolizing their chaotic nature while the Prae was in its manifested form. Everything in the small isolated scene produced a metal shine that shifted through gold, silver, and bronzed like mother of pearl. The figures were moving about as if they could imitate life itself thanks to the attention of detail to each one, some even able to create earnest expressions. Charles took pride in his artwork and application, the Vis used to create them was halved since they were only for show rather than actual tasks. Each golem and scene was set to melt into another whenever he spoke a key sentence allowing it to shift with his lecture effortlessly.

“At first, with less than 10 percent of humans able to cast magic, it seemed to contain the threat. However, due to illegal activities and magic knowledge becoming being more widely accessible, the laws alone lost their effectiveness.”

His eyes then lingered upon a single student, Avery Holmes. About twenty-five years old with bright, coppery red hair that curled about as bad as his own, the man had managed to fall asleep sitting up. The lithe figure was slouching in his posture with his head hanging backwards against the seat’s back. A soft, airy snore rumbled from his chest into the air causing Charles’ usually controlled expression to break into a frown. This action wouldn’t do, the immortal thought and his steps quieted in his approach toward his unaware victim.

Charles’ polished and well kept shoes clicked across the scuffed marble. Each moment was well practiced, chosen and executed with barely a sound upon impact while his strong voice drowned out any possible tell. On habit his fingers brushed the desk edges along the way with barely a touch. His neck hairs rose with the sensation of his students’ eyes fixed upon him and seemed to push him along, motivating him to complete his intended deed.

Charles ignored them. His focus was on his lecture and waking the student, his disapproving crinkling his face. Strangely enough, he never missed a word.

“This called for methods to contain and control its vast ability to spread. Magic, as many of you know, is a tool like any gun, sword or spear but can’t be taken away. This often makes it more lethal in comparison to more common forms of weaponry since officials haven’t found a humane way to prevent mages from using their magic. This is why magic isn’t to be taken lightly as many of our government officials started to realize and during the 1800s, Hudson Crue, a mage himself, began to write up the basic laws for all mages to abide by.”

When Charles stopped, Avery let out another distinct snore which rumbled through his thin figure. The teacher inhaled sharply for a breath and break in his monologue. His perperiphal vision caught the image at the center already displaying the subject, Hudson Crud, in the center but noted no one was was actually looking at him. Instead all their attention was focused on him. Charles held out his hand making a fleeting flicker. Within seconds a transparent metallic ruler appeared in his hand, his voice falling back into his lecture.

Lauren Smockins, an excellent student, and about twenty-one in age braced herself by pressing her hands to her ears. Her worry and concern pouring from her face. Charles felt a needle of guilt stab him in the chest but not because he felt any sense attraction. It was because he hated frightening his students, his role as teacher stirring within, and the sensation of judgement washed over him. Not just by her, but them all. His knuckles tightened, the ruler raised above and held in hesitation.

CRACK!

Avery was awake instantly. The sound occurring just inches from his position where the ruler had smacked upon his desk edge, his face filled with fear and breathing harshly in panic. Slowly his green eyes darted into Charles’ deep, luminous purple ones. The silence was immediately broken by a few giggling individuals, amused by the proceedings, while man’s cheeks reddened by embarrassment.

Charles wasn’t the least bit sympathetic since his voice resumed his lesson. This quickly quieted the small chuckling mob, his figure turned on heel and began to stroll back to the center once more. He dissipated the ruler with a jerk of his hand then folded it behind his back.

“It was then that another man, James Flounders, suggested a registration act. This act required all mages past the age of 15 to be listed within the government records. Most believed this was to enable a better way to retain a catalog of the population, who was capable of what spells and develop a control force to prevent and control casualties within the populace. However a few individuals still question it today.” His hand waved toward the image, wiping it out, signalling the end of class. He then turned to face the men and women currently collecting their things, their figures stirred the moment they knew it was time to leave, and mentioned their new assignment.

"Also, assignments over the Magical Laws and Registration are due next week. These will be opinion based and oral reports, so make sure you’ve practiced well. Don’t forget to make sure you deliver last week's assignment over Salem witch trials on my desk before the end of my work day. That's exactly 3 pm and any papers afterwards receive no credit for the course’s overall grade. Have a good day. "

Watching the students edge forward then lay their papers upon his desk, Charles relaxed against the far edge. His greyish smokey eyes watched the them all gradually depart before he considered taking a seat. It had been a trying year and a half since the occupation began. Part of him had worried that Zander’s University for Magical Arts would’ve been closed down or the class circuralim altered in a fashion to hamper the student’s knowledge and applications of magic when the Prae too over. Much to his relief, it thankfully never happened causing his worrying to be for nothing.

He turned to retrieve the papers only to note one student still remained. Lauren. Curious as to why she lingered back, Charles turned slowly to face her and wait for her explanation. Her mouth open but snapped again, her words failing her. Her fingers twisted in nervous energy in front of her and toyed with her tee shirt, tugging it downward. Seeing her so wired with desperation but lacking strength to speak caused Charles to crack a small smile. It was small reminder he didn’t bite unless provoked and she hasn’t done anything for such a thing.

That gesture seemed to spark her courage enough to address her concerns.

“I-I’m sorry Professor Aeon, for bothering you but there was something I wanted your thoughts over.” She stuttered a bit drawing a hint of worry in Charles, his eyes tightened in suspicion over the reason and nodded.

“Very well. Please allow me to get you a seat and we’ll talk about it. Just don’t forget to place your assignment on the desk before we begin.” He had noted she hasn’t gotten around to place it, the immortal’s figured moving off to retrieve it.

He quickly collected the nearest chair, picking it up easily then strolled to Ms. Smockins. Setting it down, he gestured her for sit and moved around his desk. Causally he sat down then slide forward, resting his elbows upon the hard wood surface before starting again.

“Now, Ms. Smockins, please enlighten me over the topic that seems to be troubling you.”

“I’m worried for someone very close to me, my sister Sarah. She’s mentioned something about going to a meeting in protest-”

Unexpectedly, Charles raised a hand abruptly making Lauren jump. His eyes studied the classroom, searching for something, tension subtly raising to surface with the passing time. “It’s a very dangerous thing I suspect she’s attempting to achieve and likely it will not end well. Individuals within occupied territories protesting against what they see as unfair laws never do and I hope you tried to talk some sense into her. Namely to sway her from attending?”

“I tried, but Sarah is a very...stubborn. She believes not all Licentia are as evil as the Prae advertise. She’s went to nearly every rally protesting against the slang and now with the disappearances starting, I fear she might do something drastic to draw attention. She’s my younger sister and I can’t bare if something happened to her.” Lauren spoke, her voice trembling, and seemed to be holding back a torrent of emotion.

Charles sighed in a mixture of irritation and defeat, tilting his figure to the side before plucking a handkerchief from the first desk drawer. He then flicked it in her direction while waiting for her to take it. Unable to hold back the tears, Lauren removed it from his grip to wipe them away. Charles did not enjoy the sight of an excellent student in distress and made the only offer he knew would sooth over her worry. “I’ll see what I can do. Go home and focus on your studies, there’s a pop quiz tomorrow over the report you did. Though please try not to tell anyone.”

“Thank, oh god thank you…” Lauren uttered in relief as she pulled upright, her books collected in her arms. She then passed over a well worn image of a girl much younger, about sixteen or seventeen, and nearly sporting identical features. “This is her. Please, Professor, bring her home safe.”

When she departed, Charles leaned far back in his chair and tilted his head back. He wondered how in the world he was going to manage to bring a wayward teenager back from the brink of a ‘righteous’ path. Whatever happened to education being the way to make an impression upon the world? Charles thought grimly, missing the days where females didn’t dart head first into trouble before thinking about their reputations.



It had gotten late, but Charles had finally found it.

His eyes glance up to the skies, noting their greyish hue and churning movements, realizing it reflected his own mood. At his side was a metallic colored and transparent greyhound. The beast stood in alert at his heels, its nose twitching in eagerness and panting heavily. It was noisy enough to cause him to glaze down to give it a look resulting in the beast ceasing it immediately. It never ceased to intrigue Charles that his golems often mimicked the behavior of any creature they were molded after. Even when they didn’t require air, food, water or become tired from endless activities. This part he knew for certain having performed tests to determine it.

Dismissing his inanimate companion, Charles moved into the meeting. He had decided to copy a few of his younger student’s tastes in clothing in order to blend into the crowds while keeping a hint of his own flavor in the selection choice. His current outfit could be summed up in a few words: a waistcoat and jacket combination covering a white shirt, ripped knee jeans and scuffed tennis shoes. On his head was a ball cap made to serve a dual purpose of allowing him to hide his eyes when his head was down and flatten some of his wild curls.

It wasn’t his best disguise but it was suitable for the task at hand. As long as no one attempted to talk with him and realize his phasing was too highly educated for his appearance, all was well.

Charles moved silently through the collecting crowds, ignoring the man speaking to the established mob. Most were hypnotized by the man’s words and fortunately didn’t seem to mind him moving through them, their faces fixed to the front. He glanced down to the photo to recall the woman then jerked back to scan the faces.

"Now, I know you have a lot of questions about what we are doing here. There are a lot of different people, from many walks of life. Some human like myself, many licentia, and a few prae as well. We all however do have one thing in common, we are afraid of what our city has become. Many of the prae, no offense to those here, have taken over our city,and changed it for the worse. That might not be so scary, but what they are doing to all of us is. Anyone who disagrees with them 'mysteriously' disappears, and are often labeled as possessed. My uncle has disappeared, only a note left. Who here has had someone they care about mysteriously vanish!?"

The crowd erupted into a roar of approval causing Charles to flinch. It took a great amount of willpower not to instinctively jerk his head about and look obviously alarmed. In the background, the crowd finally settled down and resumed listening. This was enough to cause Charles to ease his rattled nerves down. It seemed the speaker was struggling to retain control due to the number of attendees, understandable since there was many, causing Charles to focus on his task. Again, he moved slowly through individuals.

"Now, To the licentia here, yes, we know you are predators. Hell, I'm a little intimidated by a few of you, but there's hardly been an incident in this city worth kicking the whole lot of you out. You are all valued members of society, and your magic has helped our fair city.

To the prae, few as you are, hasn't your kind discriminated against you for the smallest disobedience? Can they not let you have the smallest amount of freedom in this world you now call your home?

And to the rest of us, isn't it time we took our city back? This is Medius dammit.”

Charles was silent, through his thoughts were screaming in his head. This was how wars were started, bloodshed, and finally lives were lost. If it wasn’t for the fact he had purged that memory so long ago, he could almost swore the Civil Revolution was sparking again. This time instead of the British, it would be the Prae. A far more dangerous foe. Would they really be ready for it or would the Prae finally make up their minds about humans and deem them too dangerous to live?

He shuddered at the terrible thought. The man’s last statement drew a soft, indignified scoff under Charles’ breath. Each word echoed in his head while he tried to ignore the threat it posed for the future.

"Now, we can't just start rioting in the streets, remember how that turned out last time. I have a...confidant who has helped me devise a plan of what we can do. There are several things we can do. For fear of espionage, we'd like to keep details to a minimum, but I can say this. There have been hundreds, maybe thousands wrongfully imprisoned. Many of our friends. We can't let anymore go to that prison. Who knows what the prae in power have done to it?

"Now. we need leaders, people we can trust. Will all those who consider themselves capable join me?"

Charles nearly rolled his eyes at the last bit, still keeping an eye out for his quarry.

His four hands fidgeting where he sat in the corner of the board room, the Doctor's eyes flitted between the figures arranged. He hadn't thought they'd call him into the meeting just because he'd been involved in the experimentation on the new drug. Funny how such things worked out, he thought with a brief grin plastered across his stiched face. The plump humanoid Licentia just couldn't help but grin slightly, his large eyes almost manic as he looked around. His strange multijointed fingers--most possessing more than two or three joints--twitching and fiddling with small needles while he listened.

After a few moments of prattle from one of the board members, the Doctor simply couldn't help but pipe up. "Excuse me, but I do believe we came here to discuss the final trials and results of the drug," said the Doctor, irritation plain in his voice.

"Why, of course we did, Kasain. I was just getting to that."

The Licenti narrowed his eyes, his plump midsection shifting slightly as he stood from his seat, his mass suddenly lengthening out--plump features becoming more sunken as his flesh redistributed itself over his frame--his height rising considerably till he reached nearly 7 feet, where he loomed over everyone in the room. "You're lying. I study anatomy for a living and do work on it, including that of you humans, don't think you can lie to me without me knowing. The little ticks give you away Mr. Desae. The quirk at the edge of your lips, the way your fingers straighten your suit, and the arrogant look in your eyes. All tells. Every. Last. One." Each word was punctuated quite harshly, and to add insult to them they were spat out and much of that spittle landed on the human's face.

Then, without ceremony, the Doctor turned his head, a smile forming on his lips as they fell upon Aeris--the company's CEO--before his mouth opened to speak, sharp teeth revealed as he did. "Ms. Kasio, if you would kindly lead the meeting I'd appreciate it. I think we've all had enough of Desae's prattling, yes?"

The Licenti's many spider-like fingers twitched anxiously as he waited for her response, hoping he'd not have to manually shut the man up by sewing his mouth shut.

A table of 12 individuals sat in stunned silence at the "Doctor's" speech, their eyes falling toward the head of the table. A woman of prim and calm elegance sat in silence as Desae and the doctor--Kasain, as she knew him--traded words. Glowing blue eyes wandered over each face present in the room, a veiled smile resting peacefully on her face before she rose from her seat, delicate hands resting on the dark wood of the table. "As you wish, Kasain." The vampire's voice was soft, but held an air of power to it. Commanding may have been the proper word.

"Thank you," he replied, before taking his seat, body shrinking back to the plump form it typically kept--a form far less threatening to those present. He sat quietly, waiting on her words, attentive.

"As we know, this drug was meant to propell a Human's ostium into a state of flux, one which would allow more people access to their magic. However, what we don't know is how well it's been working." Aeris Kasio's voice carried over the silence in the room, her body straightening, she began to walk behind each of the board members. As she moved, her chestnut colored hair flowed out behind her, leaving in its wake a gentle fragrance of jasmine. A clear remnant from the shower she had taken only three hours prior to the meeting.

"I'd appreciate an update on the preliminary test results." The woman purred as she passed behind Desae, glancing down at him as he looked up at her. She feigned ignorance as his eyes leered at her chest, over which a snug white blouse rested.

Eyes lighting up, Kasain spoke, "My pleasure!" He said, sitting up in his chair, the fidgeting of his fingers ceasing while he spoke, "When I was given the serum it was hardly anything useful. However, after some tinkering I got it to work on rats, and then on primates. I haven't been given the go ahead to test it on humans, for obvious reasons. Still, there is one problem I've picked up on. It opens the Ostium and sends it into flux, but doesn't necessarily increase the individual's ability to control it. Granted we've been testing on animals, so I suppose I should not have expected to see such results from their ilk." With that he fell silent.

"I see." The woman nodded as she returned full circle to the head of the table. "So, what do you think should be done to fix the problem, Kasain?" Aeris queried the doctor as she sat back down in her chair, her body relaxing back into the cushion.

"If only it were so simple," he said, glancing down at his hands for a long moment. After enough time had passed that it seemed he had zoned out Kasain suddenly shifted back into full gear, his cadence swift, "I'd need willing subjects to test it, but I would hnot want to sully the company's reputation--nor my own by extension. It is a difficult issue to address I think. Perhaps if we were to request assistance from a hunter? Perhaps to locate some fauna of a more magicla nature? If we can see how the creature handles the drug I may be able to modify it to better suit your purposes."

He stopped a moment, seemingly breathless, before he finished, "If it suits you of course. Still, it is just a theory of mine," he shrugged, eyes becoming somewhat dull. He had tired himself out some, but that was always a good thing with Kasain. He'd be back up and at 'em in no time. Such was the strange Licenti's way.

"All right, I'll see what we can do about that. Aeris nodded to Kasain before rising from her chair once more. "With that, this meeting has fulfilled its purpose. Have a nice day, gentlemen." As she finished speaking, the womana sauntered out of the room, her demeanor one of satisfaction.



With her work day largely over, the CEO of Kasio Korp found herself seated on the side of the building's roof, eyes trained on the ground below her. For a moment, her thoughts wandered to the events of the day, most notably the work she'd done to get the serum approved for more testing. Before long she was wondering what other uses the serum might be able to have. Would it be possible to cure any diseases with this project? If she was honest, she wasn't sure. She trusted Kasain, having worked with him for a long time even before she was able to win ownership of the company from the previous CEO.

When her thoughts fell on the man who previously bore responsibility for this--her family's--company, a scowl pulled against her freatures. He was a small, pig-like fellow with a face that resembled that of someone who had been repeatedly struck with a brick. Even his voice irritated her, it was squeaky and unnecessarily high pitched for a man in his forties.

Once again, she found herself likening the man to a pig, this time, however, she simply smiled.

After a few minutes of listening to the traffic and noise of Ominar, she pulled herself to her feet. Kasio Korp was the tallest building in the city. A fact that the vampire was very proud of. For a moment or two Aeris' mind went blank, and soon enough, she found herself falling from that very same building.

The wind lashed out at her body, almost as if in defiance of her fall. As she closed the distance between herself and the ground, shadows puled and writhed before flowing out toward her body. The seemingly living shadows pooled on the woman's back, and after a moment a pair of wings were beating back the air around her body, effectively slowing her decent. Time seemed to slow down as her body hovered above the ground for a few minutes, eyes glancing at the faces of those who stared at her in confusion.

With a gleeful smile, Aeris propelled herself forward, just barely above the rooves of most cars. For a few moments, her wings beat furiously before finding the right wind and simply gliding along as she headed for destinations unknown.

Bobbing and weaving through buildings, she felt so free. It wouldn't be long until she reached the edge of Ominar, and likely, a group of watchful Prae. They didn't seem to like it much when their Licentia "citizens" could leave the ground. Bit of a shame, really.



As Aeris reached the warehouse district, she was greeted by the sight of a rather large crowd going into one particular warehouse. After some thought, her wings disappeared and she dropped to the ground, elegantly landing on her feet. Once on the ground, the human-licenti hybrid found herself blending into the crowd rather easily as they flooded the warehouse.

It didn't take her long to smell something familiar, something that made her move about the crowd in a search. What she found surprised her to say the least. "Mai? What're you doing here? Also, what is even going on?" Aeris' unnaturally blue eyes gleamed with curiosity, along with something else. Something likely for only her brother, the man she now stood beside, to understand.

A familiar scent reaching his acute senses, the hunter frowned slightly, a confused look coming upon his features even before his sister appeared before him. Why was she here, he wondered even as she emerged from the crowd, finding him in no time like no one else could. Then came her question and, as she neared him, thus separating from the larger crowd, he responded quietly with a tiny smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. "I could say the same thing to you. Though, if you must know immediately, it's because I wanted to keep an eye on...well, this," he gestured widely, sweeping a hand out to indicate the crowd and their location.

"Some kind of resistance from what I can gather. I'm wondering how they intend on going about this. If it's liable to hurt more than it helps...well." He trailed off, leaving the statement open as he gave a hard look to his sister. After a moment it softened and he asked, "How was the meeting?"

With her back against the wall, the vampire's eyes stared out over the crowd as her brother told her what was going on. A resistance? Interesting. Her thoughts danced over the possibilities of what the movement could do given they had the proper resources. There were about as many negative consequences as there were positive ones. She frowned a little, silently hoping that they--this movement--would tread carefully. What they had now, even with the Prae peacefully watching over everything, was tremulous at best. If people weren't careful, they would feed into the propaganda that the Prae were spreading.

When Mai asked about the meeting she'd had this morning she beamed up at him, diverting her eyes from the crowd for only a moment to meet his. "I think it went well. Kasain once again put Desae in his place, which gets funnier every time it happens." As the woman started to talk about what had happened that morning, a voice spoke up over the crowd, and her attention turned to it.

She listened quietly as the human man spoke his piece, and the crowd responded in kind. The leader, she presumed, was very good at using emotions to get responses. That could be a good or a bad thing, depending on how it was used. As she thought about it, she realized she wasn't very surprised by the fact that people's families were being taken. She hadn't heard anything about it until now, but she wasn't surprised by what the Prae were stooping to. They wanted the path of least resistance, and they probably thought that would be best.

In her opinion though, what they were doing was just going to start a war. Sure, they hated Licentia, that made enough sense what with him roaming around somewhere within Ominar, but why subjugate Humanity, too?

Her mind started to wander as the leader of the resistance spoke vaguely about the plan he and some other individual had worked on. She almost didn't hear him when he asked for people from the crowd to stand with him as leaders for that mission. She found it interesting that he would just take anyone who walked up there. That didn't seem like a very intellegent idea. Were there not primary members of the resistance that he already knew he could trust?

---

Archene quietly listened to the speech, 'Letting people understand they are a diverse group, and that even as a leader he is one of the crowd as well.' As he heard the crowd erupting in an uproar, he thought, 'Even if he is not the most charismatic, he is good enough for this crowd though he can't control them well enough.'

'Making the subgroups to understand they are part of the movement, each with their reasons but with the same objective.' He glanced at the Prae, 'Though their reason isn't strong enough.' Something in the meeting somehow felt amiss, but Archene didn't let his mind wonder for too long.

Letting his attention return to the speaker, he gave a slight sigh in relief, 'At least, he is trying to take control of the crowd in a sensible way.' He briefly shook his head, looking again at the crowd looking at their last reactions. Again, something very strange. There was a familiar face wandering through the crowd, a man currently known as Charles Aeon, 'He really is still in this city... He should still be here later in any case, then.'

Archene only gave a small sigh before taking a deep breath and staring up at the speaker. He loudly spoke with his most pleasant tone, "If it is to help the people of Ominar, I will be glad to help."

---

The man's speech resonated over the entire crowd and the inharmonious banter silenced, only to occasionally follow up what the man said with either boos or cheers. Blaise found himself slowly walking through the crowd though, following the rhythmic scintillation of his geode.

"He's got to be somewhere here", Blaise thought to himself. "All of this sounds so familiar, and... This thing's got to be reacting for a reason-"

The boy's thought process was interrupted by a loud thud; another member of the crowd, much larger than he. Without an apology, the teen scrambled and picked himself off the ground only to find his "soul-geode" rolling away into the mass of feet.

"-Fuck.." he whispered under his breath, his eyed darting around as fast as possible to locate the crystal.

The young man savored the sweet, gold-orange smoke that hugged his lungs for a brief moment. His eyelids gradually lowered to a rest, half down the white of his eye, which was now turning a reddish-pink. Between his thumb and index finger, now relaxing by the side of his frame, was a thick, rolled blunt, wrapped in some sort of mango paper. The paper was thick and sticky; it not only smelled, but also tasted like the islander's favorite fruit. Yet, the orange smoke that now circled his head was caused by the actual herb within the blunt. The dense, but bloomy Zodiac Lotus was a vibrant mix of crimson and orange bud. It stuck together with a crystalline dew, adding a golden shimmer to the herb. Its outward beauty was only but a testament to its appeal, especially to Xavian's people. Unlike the cannabinoid he was previously enjoying, this herb was known for its hard hitting, psychedelic elevation. Xavian held a blunt worthy of being called a cigar ~ one that was a third of the way finished, but had lasted for about four days already. The powerful nature of the Zodiac Lotus called for only about 2 - or for the more curious, 3 - long hits. 3 was the occasional dosage for Xavian. Or at least it was now, he decided, as he lifted the blunt to his lips. His mouth gently wrapped around the wrap and he drew in a gentle stream of air, smoothly guiding the thick, aromatic smoke into his inner airways. He felt the heat brush his throat, while the dew washed over it like a sweet honey.

Around him, the crowds had grown stronger. The numbers increased to the point in which the warehouse appeared packed. Xavian had slowly walked near to the center of one of the most frontal masses of people. There, he had found a little pocket of space, one which the surrounding people let him safely occupy due to his well-sized build. As the last cloud of smoke escaped his lips, he could sense his mood changing to one of blissful neutrality. He did indulge in a faint euphoria that tickled the back of his conscience. However, what was more important was the fact that he could feel, within him, a stirring energy. One, that like always, resonated, almost as if a part of something much greater. He usually could not feel this deep vibrato, except on select occasion while on the Zodo herb itself. Naturally, he wondered if it was a sound that he was deaf to by default, unlike the others around him, who clearly held some magical potential.

The herb's effects began settling in just as the crowd seemed to jump up in excitement at the speaker's words. He could feel strong forces pulling him towards certain directions. He compared his physical presence to that of a magnet in a sea of distant magnets. However, what little "magnetic" force he did feel, he accredited to some innate, minimal life that did dwell within him. Of course, there was some depth to the manner in which this "energy" worked. He had no clue, but being an organic unit himself, he believed that it was not beyond his understanding. If one could feel it, one could question it.



Suddenly, his vision began shifting as the trip picked up the pace. He slowly returned his hand to a small tube strapped to his belt. He dropped the blunt into the tube and popped the slide cap back on. Around him, time seemed to slow as colors came to life, moving and dancing as if they had some sort of dimensional presence. Images blended together; at this point, Xavian conceded that his sense of sight was not the tool guiding his body through the crowd. No, he was relying on something else. It was an illusive synesthesia of complex nature: he acted, moved, and performed to every impulse with a unified sense. Gone was sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch. It was replaced by an ancient instinct, one most likely established when life was simply a coincidence of matter. All he could sense was energy.

On the outside, he seemed fined. Maybe a little stoned, as his eyes were low and his movements relaxed and fluid. But no one could tell, that from within, he was experiencing a huge influx of energy every time the crowd cried out in unison, responding to whoever held the mic. He looked to the right, feeling the presence of some sort of otherworldy creature. It must have been a Lycenti. The energy was solid, unlike his. Yet the volume of energy was so great, he felt shaken by the thought of holding such power. Xavian relaxed a little, feeling he was having a power trip in which he desired to experience such high volumes of energy. Just as he began to shift his focus back onto the speaker, something struck the back of his calf at a high speed. He slowly looked down wards and noticed a strange rock situated between his shoes.

He picked up the rock and examined it, almost losing himself in the patterns on the object. He wasn't sure what it looked like, but he could feel that it was beautiful. Strong, too, possibly. "Dis feels... like tuition money, ya feel?" he chuckled as he spoke to himself in a raspy voice. He moved the rock over in his hand, feeling it out. He had realized that such an item was rather valuable. It had struck him during a moment in which the crowd stirred - a moment that seemed to continue now, as people bumped into Xavian.

Within the little rowdy spur, Xavi felt someone brush past his figure. In that moment, he had first assumed the rock was snatched from his hand. However, when the crowd relaxed and he still held it within his hand, he realized it was a little pulse given off by the rock."Oh my... de ting do magic, too!" he said with a tight smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

Still feeling influenced by the Zodiac Lotus, Xavian felt no need to stop and force himself to think of the best solution. It was just a rock, after all. Maybe it belonged to someone or maybe he was just too high and was admiring a basic stone. Whatever the case, he figured the best thing to do, in case it was someone's item, was to hold it up for them to notice it. From a distance, however, due to the fact that his whole hand covered the rather small rock, it would appear that he was raising his hand.

---

---

---

The crowd only seemed to grow as Anton awaited the person who would address the gathering. Curious eyes looked over the audience with an equally growing surprise. Man... This is serious, he thought. The courier had never agreed with the Prae occupation in the first place, but he also had never given thought to just how many like-minds were out there. Seeing the sheer amount of people in the abandoned warehouse widened his perspective and evoked the realization that the birth of this resistance was an actual happening and one that could have the potential to change everything in Ominar. A lackadaisical hand rubbed the back of his neck and the courier let out an inaudible sigh. He had only come to satisfy his internal inquiry, but, at the very least, he was now a bit exposed. Keeping a low profile was important to a man who skirted the law regularly and even if the resistance became strong enough to actually oppose the Prae in the future, right now they were little more than a disorganized formation of individuals who merely wondered.

Sucking his teeth, Anton began to turn away from the makeshift stage just before the speaker finally made his presence known. His voice seemed to boom out in waves across the audience and his words began as a prototypical display of disillusion. Then, Anton stopped. "Who here has had someone they care about mysteriously vanish!?" That statement sent vibrating chills down the courier's spine. He slowly turned back to the face the man who had echoed the sentiment and now gazed at him with hard, searching eyes. The disappearances were well known amongst the criminal underbelly of the city, but Anton had largely ignored the reports in an effort to keep his own memories from resurfacing - memories that defined The Navigator and spurred on an unspoken cause.

"There have been hundreds, maybe thousands wrongfully imprisoned. Many of our friends. We can't let anymore go to that prison. Who knows what the prae in power have done to it? Now. we need leaders, people we can trust. Will all those who consider themselves capable join me?"

Though the thought of joining such a dangerous organization weighed him down, Anton let the speaker's words penetrate and resonate in his now open mind. There was an air of truth to the speech and though he was no leader, the courier solidified his growing resolve. He would, indeed, join the resistance and help to overthrow the Prae occupation once and for all. Just as he began to raise his hand however, a slight brush and push moved his body to the right a few steps. Sharply turning his head, Anton watched as a man in a waistcoat moved passed him. "Hey! Hey waistcoat! Are you looking for the proper words to say when you bump into someone? 'Cause I can certainly help you with that," Anton called out.

Charles stopped dead in his tracks for a moment. His head turned back and noting the man for the first time, his mind slowly realizing what he had done. If he hadn't been so distracted, he might’ve actually realized what he was doing and avoided this awkward situation. Being rusty, Charles tried to pacify what he worried might be anger toward him.

"Apologies, it wasn't intentional. I was actually looking for this lady, do you happen to know where she is? She's a sister of a s... a friend."

Charles had almost slipped into saying he word student, but recovered in time and resulted in only an s then a pause in his conversation. His hand held out the picture for the man to look at as his eyes panned the crowd, his ability to spot the woman (if she was here) was hindered by the massive number of bodies. He was unusually still and calm despite his age while most teenagers would be fidgeting or biting their lip from worry. When Anton took the picture, his hands were shoved into the nook of his lower back where he held them there and he waited for a reply.

Anton raised an eyebrow and crinkled his face at Charles. He had only seen the back of his head at first, but when the man in the waistcoat turned and apologized before shoving a picture in the courier's face, the shock washed over his expression; this guy was not a man. He was a kid. The courier took a step back and exhaled. He was suddenly embarrassed that he had almost gotten angry at some boy. "Uh... It's fine, it's fine," he nervously stammered, "You're looking for some girl, huh?" The courier took the picture and examined it more closely. The girl in the image was also young in age, but at least appeared to be older than the kid. She also was not bad looking, but Anton brushed the thought to the side. He had already had bad experiences stemming from finding certain women attractive. "I've never seen her before," he concluded, handing the picture back, "But I can help you look for your girlfriend. It's not like I have anything better to do at the moment." Anton sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he finished. He figured he could make up for his overreaction by at least helping the kid find this lady.

Charles wasn’t surprised at the reaction, through he appreciated the man’s control and prevented him from likely getting a beating. He had that happen a few times from cocky adults or kids that refused to act their age. This forced him to either take a beating or sidestep the situation completely before vanishing elsewhere.

After a moment or two of looking, Charles ceased examining the room. It was now that he noticed how odd his wording sounded and how rusty he was since the registration act. He never had to pretend to act his appearing age when he signed up and that allowed employment within ZUMA to be made easier for the rest of his life. Or at least for how long the school stood.

He took the picture when it was handed back. Depositing it into his pocket, Charles then blinked at Anton’s mention about the woman being his girlfriend. Wasn’t that sort of illegal? He thought, shocked a bit by the assumption, and suddenly snapped out of his less than appropriate mindset. His words started to stutter a bit in his attempt to correct the man’s impressions. Naturally his voice turned up one or two octaves as his hands waved in front of him, seeming to ward it away with a few gestures. "N-no, she's not my girlfriend. Just a friend's sister. I don't even know the young lady and I'm likely not compatible."

Anton chuckled and rolled his eyes slightly. The kid spoke like he was some elderly man. Looking over the horizon of the crowd, the courier swept away the awkward moment and pulled out his phone. The display instantly lit with the information that voicemail messages had been missed. A cold shutter crawled over the man's skin as he knew it could only be Rose attempting to get in touch with him again so she could finish her profanity-laden tirade. With that realization, a new vigor rejuvenated Anton's voluntary efforts to help the strange kid. Anything would be better than calling Rose back.

"Look kid, it's alright if you think she's out of your league, but don't write yourself off so easily. Besides, when you get older you'll realize women aren't exactly... " Anton trailed as a mental image of Rose popped into his head. He shuttered once more, this time visibly. "Let's just say that you'll learn their true nature eventually. For now, let's just focus on finding this girl." The courier scanned the wide, spacious room for a few seconds before noting that the old structure still had metallic support beams in place.

Tilting his head when Anton pulled out his phone, Charles arched his eyebrow in question. His eyes narrowed in concern and curiosity, but he didn’t give voice to his urges to inquire about it. It was none of his business in the end. Instead he leaned back and tried to slouch, something his body protested about with a spark of slight pain in his posture. He didn’t know how half his students managed to do this, let alone tolerate it. Sucking in his breath, he tried to ignore the hurt but it wasn't as easy as he had hoped. Even though it was humorous that he had experienced much worse than this when he was in war.

Charles shifted back, taking an instinctive step back when he noted the shutter. He barely realized he had done it as it was a natural reaction from another time, namely when the Black Plague came in short burst until the 19th century and he was paranoid about getting ill. It might’ve not killed him but the effects were...nasty to endure. Thankfully that was also the era it went extinct, much to his relief, making him happy he was dead asleep through it. He quickly tried to plead with the man to understand he wasn’t being modest or being outclassed in the art of love, but it wasn’t easy without spelling out the fact he was over 1400 years old. “I think you’re missing my point…”

A small smirk spread across his visage as the courier turned back to Charles. "There! You see," A rigid finger pointed at a support beam near the corner of the warehouse, "Obviously it'd be easier to find someone in a thick crowd if you get to a higher vantage point. I'll climb that beam and use my phone camera to zoom in and see what I can see from above. You just stay at the base and I'll shout out to you if I find her." A sturdy palm slapped the back of Charles' back as Anton took off with a brisk walk towards the beam he had set his sights on.

Unnoticed by Anton, Charles was pressing his right hand to his temple to hide his face. He was slowly massaging it and inhaling gradually, exhaling the stress out. He was starting to realize he wouldn’t get very far since the man didn’t believe he wasn’t sixteen. Personally, the professor was wondering if it was a blessing or curse that the man hadn’t realized something was strange with his phrasing during their conversation. Though he was pretty positive that the man just didn't mention it or overlooked it. His eyes shifted up and frowned at Anton’s next gesture, feeling a sickening sensation rattle in his middle over the next statement.

Charles immediately shifted his eyes to where his new ally was pointing. He was distracted enough that when Anton’s slap connected with his back, his feet moved forward a step and he barely caught his balance. Before he could state his protest at the friendly gesture, the stranger was off. What had he gotten himself into? Charles thought bitterly while he pushed forward and tried to keep within Anton’s wake, his steps carefully placed to avoid being tripped. At least the man was more helpful than the last three as they merely looked then ignored him, determining their own business was much more important than finding a missing girl who was possibly in danger just being here.

Ducking and weaving the best he could through the crowd’s tight population, he started a conversation while they made their way to the beam. “I was rude earlier by not introducing myself, my name is Charles. I didn’t get your name, sir.”

Anton chuckled again. "I really haven't met a kid like you before. Name's Anton, Charles. Nice to meet ya I suppose." As they neared the beam, a soft vibration sent shivers through the courier's veins. He glanced back at Charles who was trailing only a few feet behind him before pulling out his black slate. The display lit and a few taps opened the messages screen. Captial letters filled a small yellow speech box on the screen and what they spelled out caused Anton's eyes to widen. He swallowed hard though the feeling of a lump in his throat did not dissipate. There was going to be a lot to answer for later, but it was in this same moment that the beam suddenly appeared tall and looming above the duo. The courier pocketed his phone and immediately began his ascension. There was no point in waiting after all and Charles' mannerisms slightly freaked him out; he decided to let the natural pause in conversation extend a bit longer.

Anton reached the apex of the beam quickly and situated himself in such a way that he could retain one free hand. That hand grabbed the phone once more and initiated the camera app. With a mental image of the girl fresh in his mind's eye, the courier began scanning the crowd.

---

Eventually leading her to the door of what appeared to be a rather decrepit looking shack, the enscorcelled man pointed at the door before speaking, "He'll be here. Just knock," he said rather dreamily. "Mind the youngins," he said cryptically with the same tone before turning and walking away from her, leaving her with one decision: To knock, or not to knock.

Nel raised her hand to the door, hesitating. What was she to expect within? The Broker, often called the Breaker by those who viewed him less favourably, was an unpredictable man. Her sources had suggested he would by sympathetic to her plight but his help was not guaranteed. Or, they had said, it may not be the kind of help you will want. She felt like a fool, standing in this tumbledown alley with no real plan, jumping from source to source hoping to find a man no one really knew. She knocked anyway.

Several tense moments passed before a small voice could be heard from within the shack, "Who's there," the voice asked, sounding strangely like a child. On the inside of the shack, two other children laid in waiting, one hiding in a corner under some refuse and a blanket--bat in hand--while the other, a boy, stood by an oddly large and out of place stone fireplace that had no real business being in the shack.

The child who spoke through the door, another boy, piped up again, sounding wary, and even a bit on afraid, "W-why are you here?" There was the smallest amount of franticness in his voice.

Nel stood, startled for a moment. There was a fear, so stark and real in the child’s demeanor but his words were… blank. Grey seeps around them, a real wariness of this stranger but other than that, nothing. Nel was used to dealing with false happiness where there was anger, sadness where there was glee, but this was jarring. She suspected that was the point. It is clear these children acted as a barrier of sorts, a misdirection.

Taking a breath she quietly asks, “I was hoping you could help me find someone, your employer, perhaps? The Deal Broker.”

Within the safety of the shack the children exchanged glances. The girl in the corner nodded, she was clearly the eldest, despite the boy at the door being the tallest. After a moment of silence they opened the door for her, with the three of them all giving her strange looks, though the tall boy's expression was easiest to read--he was suspiscious. "Mmm. You're Prae...and weird," the girl said, looking her up and down before walking over to the fireplace.

The children appeared to be between the ages of 7 and 12, their clothes in bad condition with dirt and loose threads apparent. The girl reached up into the fireplace, arm disappearing, before she seemed to tug something. Arm coming back out she stomped a particular wooden board in an eight knock pattern, before stomping another twice. "He'll be up ina moment," she said, meeting the prae's eyes with a rather hard look--especially for a child.

It appeared that living on the streets did nothing for a child's emotions.

Stepping away from the fireplace as a faint grinding sound occurred, the girl watched their guest's expression as the fireplace split in half, sliding to the left and right, as a man--hat first--rose out from the floor. It appeared to be some kind of elevator that had brought him up, though a rather small one.

Finishing his ascent, the middle-aged man glanced between the children and threw up his hands, "Ya know, you really ought notta just call me for any ol' bloke, kids." The boys stuck their tongues out at him, and he smiled, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes before he looked to the stranger among them. Sauntering from the fireplace-turned elevator, the Broker tilted his head as he approached her, before extending his hand for her to shake. "Ain't got no real name for you ta call me, milady, but most call me Bree, so that'll hafta do." He smiled at her, his new orleans accent coloring every word with a rainbow of jazzy flavor. "What might I call you, mmm Ms. Mysterious?" he asked with an oddly genial smirk.

Faced with his odd charm and affable demeanour Nel couldn’t help but grin at Bree, “You can call me Nel. I’ve heard you’re a man who can help me find someone.” Nel’s stomach fluttered slightly. Normally that might suggest something insidious but this, she’s sure, was just nerves. “I don’t have much to offer you but a sob story and some anti-Licentia sentiments.”

Nodding slowly, his eyes becoming distant as he considered her words, the Broker nodded and lightly put a hand on her shoulder, before gesturing towards the lift. "Well let's go on down where it's a little less...well, uncomfortable, and you can tell me what I can help ya with. Sound alright?" He removed his hand, smiling at her in that same disarming way. If she used her senses, she'd know there was nothing hostile or even sinister about his intentions.

His words were the soft, comfortable blue of an afternoon sky. This colour was familiar to Nel, the simple colour of a frank and honest word. Most people in Priscus, living their day to day lives, spoke this way. It was only since coming to Ominar more frequently that she had learnt how easily dishonesty could flow from others (how naive she had felt). Nel sighed, relieved, "That sounds perfect."

Nodding he followed her onto the two person lift, before saluting the children and tapping his foot twice on the floor. Immediately the lift began moving downwards at a rather slow pace. "Quite tha time to be comin' to anyone with such sentiments," he said casually, glancing at her briefly before a buzz in his pocket had him extract a phone and briefly read a message.

He chuckled before continuing, "Though I do suppose that many have such sentiments these days." He didn't make any statements about whether he agreed or disagreed, strangely enough. After a minute or so the lift stopped opening up to a cozy looking bunker-like office. On a couch to their left as they entered was a sleeping woman, and in that same direction there was a doorway with no door, and in that room there was a rather scholarly looking man, unconscious. "Don't mind him. Gave me some trouble earlier, had to bring him in on a favor. Rather popular guy actually," he said with another chuckle, circling around his desk and taking a seat, feet kicked up. He gestured towards a rather comfortable looking chair. "Need anythin' ta drink, scotch, soda, water?"

Nel felt strangely at ease, despite her bizzare situation. Bree's unusual cast of characters scattered around the room were oddly comforting. What have I gotten myself into She thought, slightly hysterically. "Bree, " She said, not unkindly, "I appreciate the pleasantries." She really did. "But I've not got much time."

"No worries," he said, pouring himself a glass of scotch even as he did. "Please, do tell what tha trouble is. I'm all ears," he said, glancing at the sleeping woman briefly before flicking a coin with the heel of his boot in her general direction.

It hit her on the forehead, causing her to stir and rub hear head. "Tha hell, Bree?" Said the woman as her eyes opened to look at the man who was her elder brother. The eyes were slits, though she looked otherwise human. "Need a notetaker sis," he said with a smile, before glancing at the Prae, "Your name, if ya will miss. I hate to pry, but if I'm to help, I'll need ta know. Oh, and don't mind her eyes, Ana's not full Licentia. Not even Licentia willingly mind you, we've no love nor hate for their ilk."

At his words, Anastaesia grumbled, rising to a seated position before grabbing a pen and notepad from her brother's desk. The two then waited expectantly for their guest to win.

A quiet groan could be heard from the still unconscious man in the other room.

Nel was sure she should be wary of giving this strange man her name, her story; if she was caught here by her minders she'd be kept hidden in Priscus for another three decades. And yet she's not wary at all. There is nothing to suggest she should distrust him, not in his voice, the edges of his mind or the pit of her stomach. "Annalise Langley. My mother was Hestor Langley, a UN ambassador." A good woman, Nel didn't add but it was clear in her tone. "She was murdered many years ago by Szayeis. I wish to find him. To-" She hesitated, to what? To kill him herself? Don't be absurd. To bring him to justice? It would never happen. To find out why? That sounded right. "-well, I don't rightly know. To see him brought down, perhaps. I know that I'm still young." Barely more than a child by Prae standards. "But I'm not so naive to think I could do that on my own."

As the young Prae mentioned the identity and station of her mother, the Broker nodded, though he continued to listen as his sister jotted down notes for the record. When she had finished, the man let things sit in silence for a few moments before taking a drink from his glass of scotch and then setting that glass down on the table. "You're right ta think that you couldn't handle that one on yer lonesome," he said, thoughtful, his smile not as apparent as he pondered the issue at hand. "I can do ya a solid and see what information I can...ascertain about his whereabouts," he said as he extracted his card and handed it to her. "For now I know he was last sighted traveling in the direction of our beautiful city of Ominar," he said with a small smile, but a warning look in his eyes as he met her own.

"That card has my sister's contact info, we'll keep in touch. As to your end of the deal, I'm liable to call in a small favor in the future," he said vaguely as he fished out a rather old looking leatherbound book from a drawer in his desk and set it on the table before them. He flipped the book open without looking at it, paging through it while he glanced between Analise and his sister. "We'll both sign this here contract, because I think in this instance, it'd be best I bind myself to our contract so I don't get you in a horrible stint of trouble, ya hear?" He smiled at her, a note of awkwardness in his eyes, it seemed something similar had happened in the past.

What she probably didn't know however, was that for the Broker to offer one of his more concrete deals was a rarity.

As he opened to a blank page he began writing that she owed him a small favor, then qualifying the favor as something that could not and would not harm her, her position, or her reputation in any reasonably permanent fashion. He qualified reasonable to mean anything last more than a week's time in regards to reputation or position and anything being more harmful than a verbal lashing or a papercut.

He was rarely so specific.

When he was done he offered her the special pen and slid the book to her side, "You write what you're asking for, 'Lise, and I'll erase it if it sounds fair, and help you add reasonable qualifiers. Don't worry, I'm making efforts to stay reasonable while you're here." He smiled at her again, while his sister gave him an odd look before closing her notebook and getting up to go check on their still unconscious guest.

Nel eyed the contract warily, it seemed too good to be true. She had been told, warned, that Bree’s deals were tricky. Great reward for great risk. Or nothing at all. The small exchange she caught between Bree and his sister confirmed it was not his usual way of things.

“I’ll be honest,” Nel smiled, “I had expected much less certainty. But I know you’re telling the truth. More than that, you’re doing me a great kindness.”

Nel might have thought to probe his thoughts then, to see the reaction caused by her pointed words but she felt uncomfortable, in this instance, with the invasion of privacy. It could be exhausting, always knowing what people truly thought (truly thought of you). Instead, she picked up the pen with conviction and signed the generous contract.

I, Annalise Langley, ask for information on the whereabouts of one Szayeis Aka'aeria and any aid that can be reasonably offered to depose him.

Reading it over, Bree--for a brief few seconds--held a serious expression on his face, something shifting about his demeanor ever so slightly. It would be subtle, even to her. He ran a finger over what she'd written, eyes closed, and the brief glow of vis could be seen. "Very well, the deal is sealed," he said seriously before smiling at her--though this time it was oddly forced. His sister returned, glancing at him briefly before walking up to Analise.

"I'll walk you out of the area, it can be...kind of risky to walk these streets alone at times." She smiled at her, a sort of insistence in her tone. Bree smiled at Analise and his sister before, rather curtly speaking, "It is good doing business with you. You've got the card, and I've got your name so we'll be in touch. Expect results within the next day or so." He paused a moment, as if remembering something, "Oh...and I think there is someone else who could likely help you with this." He fished another business card from his pocket and passed it to her.

"Name's Aeris Kasio, CEO of Kasio Korp. Tell her what happened...she'll be sympathetic and I'm sure she'll love to help where I just can't. Ciao," he waved and then got up, exiting the room to enter another part of the bunker. His sister, Anastaesia would help walk her out.

Watching Bree go, Annalise could not help but feel incredulous. How little did she really know about this deal, this man, this city, the conflict within? Every step towards her goal made things less clear. Does it matter? she thought. She had spent decades in Priscus, hate festering in her heart, waiting for this. She couldn't be distracted now (but that was thing when your Anima ran on empathy, you couldn't help but be distracted).

"Thank you, Bree." She said sincerely then, turning to his sister, smiled, "Alright, I'm ready to go."

Anastaesia delivered Nel to a safer, more familiar part of the city with relatively few words. She seemed to be musing on something. Nel sighed, more at ease. Onwards. To Aeris.

Zeki Glaedwine

Looking over the crowd from the top of the helicopter, Zeki's eyes fell on the Eximius who had stepped forward, the who he had noticed earlier. Zeki couldn't help but smile.

"This could get interesting... With him, perhaps that lot'll have a chance. I hadn't really thought of that before. I suppose I will have to reevaluate my plans."

Zeki then looked around at the varying expressions throughout. Alot of the crowd was excited. Those were the ones who would be too eager and screw this up. It was what he was counting on before, but now? Plans change.

Zeki unsheathed his phone, and pointed it at the few quieter ones, quickly taking their pictures. Among the ones he pointed to were Archene, who he already knew could be a leader, Xavian, Blaise, Mairyell, Talana, Aeris, and the man climbing up the beam, Anton, though Zeki didn't know any of their names. He then eyed someone in the crowd who he did know of, someone very well known in the community. He did not take the picture. With that, Zeki climbed down from his perch, panting heavily as he walked next to Roger, whose phone rang.

"Roger, I want you to gather these people for the mission. Go around, and tell them to seperate from the crowd. They will be busting open a prison. I'll have a use for the others, they'll make a nice little distraction for the hunters and police. Originally, I was just going to have everyone bumrush the prison, and find out where the hunters and some of the Prae's more elite come from, then send little gifts, but this seems so much better if we can actually make this work. This little group is about to become really interesting for the Prae. Oh, and reaching that one on the beam, best of luck. You'd have to be in really good shape to go up after him."

With that Zeki disappeared into the people, looking for the one person he had recognized earlier. It took a while to find in the crowd, who with one emotion or another, tended to be strained. About what he expected. It wasn't as if it were a bunch of children.

Spotting the man, Zeki called out.

"Professor Aeon, I must admit, you were the last person I expected to see here. A man after my own taste, it's a pleasure to see you."

---

“I apologize before hand for correcting your assumptions, but the term kid is a misleading description for me.” Charles replied kindly as he kept a look out, his hand fiddling with his hat every few moments. It was uncomfortable for the most part because he wasn't accustomed to wearing such a thing since the 1800s and that was a top hat. His words continued to speak while his eyes wandered across the individual faces and made brief presumptions based on memory, continually nervous his disguise wasn't enough to hide him. “I do regret that I'm unable to offer a suitable reward for your aid in return.”

Already Charles had absorbed the man’s name and stored it away in his archived library of memories. His mind pinning notable visuals to the word’s meaning in order to enable him to identify Anton should they ever cross paths again. Lazy as the method sounded, Charles had ceased putting too much effort in recalling strangers for a long time now. Mainly due to the fact people drifted in and out of each other’s lives since humanity’s early days, often too selfish to bother with trivial work required in developing connections with them. In the immortal’s jaded view, only those who sought and strove to keep contact with him were worth the drudgery. These individuals were rarer than the selfish creatures he encountered all the time.

So, he believed they deserved to be valued as such.

Inhaling quietly, he tilted his head upward in order to view Anton and observe him. If the man found the young girl, any differences in his current behavior and words toward Charles would indicate it fairly quickly. Noting the man used a camera, the immortal frowned. It didn’t help he wasn’t a big fan of technology and tolerated a limited selection that was dated after the 1800s. In his view, it was rather humorous how the Prae and Licentia revealed themselves to mankind, but each race was determined to remain rather detached from the events they likely triggered in man's nature as they aided them into a new revolution. In the end, each had placed their mark upon the race as a whole. In one way or another, Charles thought bitterly looking around.

Currently, he wouldn’t have minded being sent on a fruitless mission and wasted the time looking for the girl, who might not even be there. In his mind, he had an endless road compared to others and so he had the time to devote to a frivolous task. Something caught his attention from his peripheral vision. His head turned to spot the very speaker who had earlier addressed the aggregation was now shifting through it, seeking out and talking with selective individuals. Those people of interest then started to move from the crowds like they had been instructed to do so. The sight stirred his intuition that things were getting much worse and his window to escape uninvolved was being reduced by the longer he stayed. Unfortunately, Charles couldn’t simply leave without officially knowing if the girl he sought was actually here or not.

"Professor Aeon, I must admit, you were the last person I expected to see here. A man after my own taste, it's a pleasure to see you." A voice, far too pleased in Charles’ perspective, addressed him from behind.

When Zeki called out, he thereupon jerked in reaction. It was a daft notion to believe his disguise was going to last all night, the professor realized when he had been discovered. Carefully, noting the eyes of a few younger generation looking in their direction, he turned to face the very source that had been “kind” enough to disclose his identity to everyone else. Regrettably, punching wasn’t a polite greeting in Medius or the immortal might’ve actually considered practicing it in this situation.

His hand reached for his hat and removed it, the attempt to blend in a complete failure. Naturally, his mind started to pick out features that drew his eyes and made memorization easier. An eyebrow raised in question upon seeing the man dressed in an old fashion top hat, well-kept tuxedo, fluttering cape and a cane held in his hand when he approached Charles. It was obvious to everyone by the professor’s expression he didn’t recall ever meeting the Lucenti before now.

Adding the brief description to his mental library, Charles then spoke in his known calm and mature manner. “As I’ve told many of my students: appearances are deceiving. In this case, depending on what you’re thinking that’s likely the case. Mr...?”

---

---

Upon glancing over to the middle area of the warehouse like building and noticing the crowds slowly started gathering in front of a man, Talana carefully makes her way towards the front of the now one big group in order to get a better view of the person that looks like he's about to hold a speech.

On her way, she glances about, looking around the area at people that she considers notable in any way and trying to make mental notes and images of the ones that are easily distinguishable. A big, dark skinned man with dreadlocks who looks like he's in a totally different world, a horned Licenti, wearing quite fashionable oriental clothing and a superior demeanor, some people who aren't even paying attention to what's going on who seem to be searching for something or someone, there was also The Navigator, he's the one who sparked an interest in parkouring in Talana, which helped her greatly get around the slums or escaping certain situations, though she's not even closely as good and experienced as The Navigator.

Having arrived at the desired destination, Talana's attention focuses on the man in front. "Show's about to start Tal. Let's see if this one'll be another fiasco or something that will finally make a change." "Be more optimisic Tark, have a little faith in people's desperation, "look" around, people are at their limits and things aren't getting any better if we just sit around and do nothing." The speech is starting.

"[...]. Who here has had someone they care about mysteriously vanish!?". Hearing those words, some of Talana's more or less repressed memories resurfaced briefly, giving her some flashbacks of the day that changed her whole life. [The heated discussion. The three men..prae in black. Father's words - Don't worry munchkin, papa will be back later today -. The escape. The house burning"]. After a few seconds, Talana was brought back to reality due to the uproar caused by the man's question. She found herself..furious, clenching her first and breathing heavily, not even intentional. She then tried to calm down as the crowd slowly got silenced by the man's efforts, after which he continued his speech.

"Now, To the licentia here, yes, we know you are predators...", Tarkan groans heavily at that word...predators. Yes, he knows the Licentias reputation. Yes, he knows "they" ARE predators...he just hates being named or even considered one, call it a racial complex.

Talana continues, listening to the speech, which has caught her interest with every word. "The way he speaks..he picks his words carefully and well, I admit I like what I'm hearing so far..

Hearing about the prison, Talana couldn't but think of her father. If he was ever sent there, all those years in the past.

After the plead for leaders, she looks around, checking peoples expressions and reactions to this request. Who considers themselves "worthy" and good enough to lead this mob into great changes. "What do you say? Interested in becoming an esteemed leader of the rebels?" "Pffft, I can't even lead myself out of bed properly...nah let's wait and see who's willing to put their ass out there for them..and us".

As the horned asian(???) Licenti steps forward, Talana raises her eyebrows in curiosity. "Hmm, so HE's willing. Things are about to get quite interesting." while she gazes intensely at Archene with a smirk on her face.

Watching and listening intently to effectively understand the way this was to play out, the hunter watched as several people, including a rather well known Licentia, raised their hands. He had half a mind to raise his own, but he restrained himself and waited.

Then came another man, who stepped close to the speaker and told him something, something that Mairyell was able to pick out due to his significantly enhanced senses. A prison break was it? he thought as he pushed himself from the wall he'd been leaning on. This was a game to that man, he concluded, searching the crowd for others he might understand to be likely picks for this mission.

His gut told him it was a bad idea, that was if they didn't plan it properly. People would get hurt...there might even be casualties, but if he went along....

Mairyell shook his head, but while he'd been warding off the urge the speaker had disappeared from the stage and made his way through the crowd and to the hunter and his sister. “My boss pointed you two out to me,” he said, smiling at them, though there was a seriousness to his tone as he called over the clamor of voices that had erupted upon his ceasing his earlier speech. “Would you be willing to help us out and come along? I know you're in the business, I recognized your face when he took the pictures.”

The vampire looked Roger up and down, drawing air through his nose to learn his scent. He wanted to know who this guy was...but that was something for later. “Yeah, I think I'll go along, though I'm not sure about her,” he nodded his head at Aeris. “I'm Mairyell by the way. Though I'm fairly sure you know me as Sanguine,” he replied, a dead serious look on his expression—though there was some boredom in his eyes.

“Yeah, I've heard of you. Name's Roger,” he held his hand out to shake. Mairyell pointedly decided not to return the favor, letting him hang awkwardly for a few moments before he began retracting the hand. However, when he did so, Mairyell's own shot out and grabbed it, shaking it even as the action elicited a brief look of surprise and alarm from the speaker.

The handshake ended and as it did Roger turned to Aeris, smiling, “What might your name be then, and would you be willing to join our cause?”

Little Kasio eyed the man who had introduced himself as Roger with mild interest while he spoke with her brother. When the time came, and he turned his query to her, her expression changed to one of a thoughtful nature. "My name is Aeris. Nice to meet you, Roger." She was silent for a few moments, before simply smiling and shaking her head. "I'm not interested in joining something that will start a war just yet. However, I will follow my brother wherever he chooses to go." Her voice was soft, and carried the smile that she wore.

Roger nodded and smiled before taking a step away from them, turning to go elsewhere, "Alright, well I'll see you in a bit, next meeting is a few blocks away. 2354 West arid drive," he said, giving them the address before he melted into the crowd, departing the duo. Mairyell raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Aeris. "I'm a little surprised you'd come along just because I'm participating," he said with a look of mild curiosity and amusement.

"Well, someone has to be there to watch your back. We don't know any of the other individuals, Mai. I won't leave you to them." Aeris' voice was strong, an air of protection in it. She wouldn't be separated from him a second time.

Smirking with a gentle look in his eyes, Mairyell nodded before looking away, seeming pleased. "As good a reason as any," he said quietly, though he knew she'd hear him regardless. It was a nice feeling to have someone who cared, let alone one who could watch his back. It would be helpful in the days to come, he thought. Hopefully he could help this little resistance become something bigger...something that could make a difference.

For once, he really hoped so.

Having finished with the pair, Roger waded through the crowd of people, many of whom were discussing what the forming Resistance might be doing exactly. Roger made excuses to some who tried to engage him in regards to said subject before moving on. He had been on his way to find the odd fellow wearing a kimono when it had dawned on him just who the Licentia was. An Eximius lord... Roger gaped, swallowing hard. After a few moments of trying to gather his courage, the speaker failed and so turned away. He took his phone out and sent a text to Zeki to handle the kimono-clad Licenti, saying he was caught up by other individuals present.

To make sure he wasn't lying, he swiftly made his way through the crowd and over to a dreaded youth who had, for some reason, raised his hand before. Noting his resemblance to one of the people his boss had pointed out to him, smiling to himself he made his way to the darker skinned man and tapped him on the shoulder lightly to get his attention. Xavian turned around slowly, bringing forth a rush of strong, but pleasant herbal aromas that could've probably intoxicated a sharp nose. His eyes were low and relaxed; the fluidity with which he presented himself was rather suave and nonchalant. Having caught the attention of the man who had previously been speaking, Xavian moved his hand to his pants pocket, discreetly placing the stone within. He kept the one hand in his pocket as he tilted his head to the left and raised a brow.

The man before him stood a few inches under him and his skin was indeed fairer than his own mocha-colored complexion. Xavian felt a bit surprised when he realized he was now face to face with the same man who, only minutes ago, was conducting the pep rally that had occured before him. His brow fell back to a neutral position as the muscles in his face relaxed. He spoke calmly, albeit a little slower than normal.

"...am I in trouble?"

Roger smiled and laughed lightly before talking just loud enough for the interestingly calm individual. "No, not at all. A friend pointed you out to me, said you'd likely be leadership material in your own way. So I thought I'd come talk to you, maybe see if you'd like to participate in the first Resistance mission we have planned out." While he talked he looked the taller young man over, wondering just what he was under the influence of--though he was fairly sure that there was at least some marijuana mixed in, the smell was quite strong after all.

Noting this he couldn't help but wonder what Zeki had seen in the young man. Nonetheless, he did as Zeki had told him to, mostly out of trust, though somewhat out of duty, he did sort of work for the guy.

Xavian let the question settle; he had been preparing himself to run in case he was, in fact, in trouble. But now he realized he was face to face with a completely different situation. 'Dem want fi recruit me? I'm no soldier...' he thought as his expression shifted to one of wonder. He took a brief moment to look around him, gauging the flow of the gathering. It seemed he had been hand picked from the crowd, which made him feel confused more than anything. He had never been a soldier before, and he could tell that this land was on the brink of some sort of conflict. A conflict he had undeniably tangled himself up in just by showing up. What he could not ignore, however, was the potential benefits of working in a leadership position. It was quite obvious that the "mission" that had been mentioned was no ordinary task, meaning it would be no ordinary pay, assuming there was compensation to begin with. Either way, it was the kind of experience that would look extremely attractive on a college application.

"Ya wan' me to help you, brotha'? Well..." he began as he tilted his head to the side once more, "...are you the good guys?" It was apparent in his tone that he was a bit lost on the politics, unable to discern who was right or wrong. While he did feel it was unfair to prejudice a whole species, he couldn't help but aknowledge the logic behind the Prae's decison. The Licentia were quite a heavy presence. "I don't fight others' wars. But... if ya can promise me some pay, I'll help ya, mon. IF you're the good guys, 'nah mean?" His words left little room for bullshit. Although calm, his tone was firm and genuine. The way his words flowed out, combined with his lost glare, made it clear that anything besides the truth would not be worthy of his attention.

Roger nodded, listening to the young man's words and thinking for a moment before smiling again and speaking up, "If you consider the Prae wrongly prosecuting Licentia and lowering them to second or third class citizens, on top of the unexplained disappearance of late the acts of the good guys then I'd have some doubts about your personal sense of right and wrong." There was laughter in his eyes as he said it, revealing that he doubted the young man would believe something so clearly ludicrous.

"We're fighting to stop these disappearances, to stop the prejudice, and to see what the Prae really want." He nodded and his brow screwed up in thought, a mixture of worry and focus in his expression as he spoke again, edging closer to the young man so they could hear one another better. "Between you and me, I think the Prae aren't here for our benefit, you know, for the greater good of humanity. I think they're here for personal gain. It's just the sense I get ya know? Not that I have anything to prove it yet."

He stopped a moment and glanced in Zeki's direction, capable of sensing the man through their contract, before glancing at Xavian again "In terms of pay, I think Zeki might be able to help with that. At the very least I can get you something as compensation, though I can't promise what. He'll be at the meeting that you're invited to later and you can talk to him then, maybe make a more final decision. That sound alright?"

Xavian's eyes followed the man's glance to the side, but he was unable to find what he had looked at. He then nodded, removing his hand from his pocket and rubbing the back of his neck as he rolled it to relax its muscles. From what he understood, this was no black and white conflict. Instead, an ongoing hostility had set the stage for a call of duty; the man had mentioned disappearances and that troubled Xavian. He had been able to catch the cries of various people who responded to the man when he spoke on the stage. This only meant that the disappearances were real: people were actually missing.

"Ya... that sounds fine, brotha. I'll be there."

"Alright, I'll see you there then," he said with a smile before he bowed his head before bowing out of the conversation.