"Of course, Councilor, I would be honored," Crosos Granz's voice was a grating echo, but somehow a smoky utterance. While he spoke to Councilor Serpera, the Golem's lone eye was directed out a window. "The Enlistment is thriving this year," he said, casting a lingering gaze in the Ewori's direction, "and I'm sure the Lunar Festival will be just as vibrant." Serpera shifted and turned her head only slightly, uncertain as to exactly where the Golem was staring.

"We thought it would be appropriate for you to handle the ceremony, given that..." flat, and without the seemingly regular "we of the Vaunted Council", cogs began turning somewhere in the Golem's surprisingly sturdy head. He lifted a hand to silence her, his heart had already sank with the news. She did not oblige him, but gave him a look of understanding that the Golem could only interpret as genuinely sympathetic before beginning. "We...thought that she might resist less if it were to be you." She, a different she.

"What of the others," there was a slight amusement in him, despite the avoidance of the real question behind his twisted lips, "who I am to execute? Should not a kinder face send them to Stieg's embrace?" His laugh was always hollow-sounding, but today the feeling of it lingered with the low chuckle. Serpera tapped her fingers on the table, once each, trying her best to remain composed. Granz knew her better than most, and was prepared for what would follow.

"By all the Gods and their damned faces, Crosos! 'This is an honor' you say in one moment, then try to spit on in the next," where her voice had been flat, now a rising anger tinted her words...though they were not so fiery as what Granz had hoped for; nor had the Councilor begun to redden about the face. He sighed, audibly, and nodded. The room seemed to still a bit more, the Golem's resignation setting in.

"You know I can't spit, Serpera," he said with feigned consternation, and offered a lopsided grin, "She's finally chosen to give it up, eh?" They still had not come to speak her name. Not out loud, anyway. She was Elise, The Silver Glint; and, as Crosos had come to know...one of the heroes who sundered Kanys.

"...Yes. We are still debating what to do with it-" The Ewori Councilor considered something behind almost-closed eyes.

"That wasn't what I meant. I meant her, I meant Elise. She's finally giving up..." It took him a moment to rise, the chair groaning as he stood, perhaps thankful to be free of his weight, but for Crosos Granz it was one of the most mercurial motions made in his existence. "By the damned faces, indeed..." He looked down on her, with pity. Somehow, it had fallen to the Vaunted Council. That could not be a safe thing. The Golem battled biting his metaphorical tongue for a moment and turned, again, towards the window of the Councilor's chambers...or, more accurately, toward the streets of Vaald; toward the sun. "This can not come to pass."

Despite what he expected, Serpera gave him a smile that was both begrudging and approving. "Exactly, Crosos," she livened with talk of conspiracy, and Granz approved to see more of the girl he knew in the Councilor she wore, "I want you to make sure that it gets out of Vaald, one way or another, whether you walk it out or put it in someone else's hands...I don't care."

"Must it be me?" Another hollow sigh and more resignation creeping in, along with acceptance. He knew well that it would be best delivered in his hands.

"Is there anyone else who could?" As did she, apparently.

"Hundreds who-" Serpera shook her head, lightly, somehow silencing the Golem.

"Perhaps, but I have not come to trust them as I have Crosos Granz. You're less easily swayed than others when it comes to matters of great importance."

He let silence and his cyclopean gaze linger over her for a long time. It was not that he had to contemplate whether or not he would comply with her request; that had been decided before Serpera had asked him here, it was that he had no idea how to get a piece of Kanys' mask out of the city. He already had an idea on how he was going to acquire it...but...the part that would come thereafter was quite hazy.

"I am also a fair deal harder to kill."

- - - -

Far from the bustle of things that she wouldn't-quite-understand, Isyph Al-Delad lingered...soaking in her low-spirits. She had produced her lute, a moment before; a song boiling in her heart. Yet, when she hoisted it and began to strum, all of the enthusiasm had been drained from her. Despondency wrapped its self around her throat and drove her to silence. Instead of a song, she produced a harrumph and slid away from the crowds; still cradling her lute.

It was in this surprisingly deep melancholy, and a relatively underpopulated Vaaldian side-alley off the main nexus of the Enlistment Square, that she now marinated, as she often had before albeit not in such an unfamiliar place. Faces, etched into her mind, and the names of several Guilds begin to flutter by; various grunts of disapproval and some barking laughter. Apparently, not everyone could get into a Guild.

"Not everyone is 'worth the trouble', and some people look 'like they'd be slain by an errant breeze'," she grumbled into herself, lifting her knees to her chin and wrapping her arms around them...lightly picking at the strings of the lute, despite herself, giving an unwitting canter to her bitter mumbling, "Some people 'couldn't swing a sword without losing their arms', and others, well, others 'couldn't cause a bit o' harm'." Isyph was starting to grin, allowing her fingers to flow without restriction and her words to gain the volume she suddenly felt they deserved. "There are people who 'look a little sick', or, perhaps, 'built like a stick'. There are people who 'can't sing in tune', and ones who are 'probably cursed by the Moon...'"

She trailed off and looked down the alley, which was a narrow stretch of gray; punctuated by the forms of a few others, some of which had turned to glance at her...after she had momentarily stopped. Being unable to resist she stood, gave a wave and tipped her cowl; bending slightly at the waist to offer the slightest bow, still strumming the simple melody she'd come naturally to.

"'Scratch'," she let the notes trail off and silence settle in for just a moment, before beginning again, "and there are those who have to 'force a rhyme' or 'couldn't rob a blind old woman blind'! There are some people who 'might be able to serve mead to get their fill' and some people that 'won't be able to find a Guild in Aedrasil'!~" The lute felt alive in her hands and her hands seemed to have a mind of their own, wrestling the animate instrument with surprising elegance. Isyph Al-Delad felt that she had just produced one of the better performances in her life, and had found a refrain. The faces, the thought of being dismissed at every turn...while still fresh, were now less painful. Now, they were inspiration. "Those who 'would be dead in a week', those who 'ought to leave, before this turns bleak'," the Uquii stumbled for a line, momentary embarrassment settling in. Then it came to her.

"There are some of us who," she resumed with a particular bravado, "are just wasting time, that'll probably never find a Guild in Aedrasil!"

She exhaled and let her fingers slow, the song trailing into nothingness; a light smile on her face. It was nice, despite all the hardship...and all of her failure, to have a way to release some of the negativity. Even if she were still without a place within Vaald, the night had not yet fallen...and there was always the Lunar Festival to look forward to.

Sometimes, fate was a force far more potent than binary logic; albeit one that could be bluntly summarized as such. Variables existed within the reaches of its machinations, rocks of choice interrupting the flow of an aimless river that might be called Time. What was occurring to Isyph Al-Delad, though she could not possibly have the perception of it, was a churning of the tides...forcing her onto one of those rocks. So, there she sat, having just finished her first rendition of Never Find A Guild In Aedrasil; now faced with a choice.

Applause, accompanied by a man that she could not deny was handsome...though something about his features seemed irreconcilable with her mind, as though they were something to be inevitably eaten by a haze of obscurity, startled her; something she almost avoided expressing audibly with a small gasp. She felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks, thankful for the positive attention after such a grueling day. Startling, also, was the reaction in which this stranger elicited in her. He felt familiar, like someone she should know about. Like an old friend with a different face, maybe.

"Thank you, sir," she squeaked out, trying hard to maintain composure in what was quickly attempting to become an awkward situation, "not everyone has been so kind, today." Her blush deepened, by a little, though more with the indignation of remembrance and a sudden sort of nameless shame than the compliment. It had not happened in great droves, today, but the Uquii girl was used to receiving compliments about her appearance...often times phrased with a less-than-couth intention. Seeming to realize that he was looking down on her, Isyph stood and pulled her cowl back a little bit; adjusting it so that it tangled less in her horns and pressed less readily against her ears. "That was an interesting trick you pulled, if you listened to the whole song, stranger!" Confidence had returned to her, but something about the man before her made the Uquii feel slightly less adequate than she usually did. He certainly looked to be a proper Thief, if she had half the sense she thought she did, or maybe a Rogue; sometimes the two would have similar garb; though the lack of an obvious pack made her question that judgement.

The conditioning her 'father' had relentlessly driven into her kicked in, drawing her attention from his face and lithe form to the fact that she had not yet introduced herself. Daln's voice practically echoed in her ears...which, strangely, was the same voice she sometimes heard when debating whether or not to pursue a potential opportunity. That realization set her ears to itching, which she indulged, fully removing her hood for a moment and digging at them.

"My name is Isyph Al-Delad," as per the usual greeting, she offered her hand out for a quick shake...though she expected this man might be the type to kiss it, instead, a fact that did not entirely perturb her, "and I'm here...well, now," she glanced upward, past the uneven jut of the alley's skyward teeth, and observed the position of the sun, midday being hours behind and twilight but a short while ahead, "I suppose...to watch the Lunar Festival." The last part was said with a sigh, as she placed the cowl back around her face. "Though I don't know where I'll be going after that...I had expected to have a place to sleep tonight..."

The blush on her face, having been in recession for a moment, came back with full force; coloring her features with the realization of the possible implications.

The Crystalline Chamber was a little known construct beneath the Vaaldian Palace, wrought of countless Runes and Words that Crosos Granz could never see but always feel. There was something within the mirrored surface that carried an air of whispering lips lingering just beyond a tattered veil. There were few uses for a room such as this; rarely did those who possessed power to necessitate its unsealing live to see the hauntingly reflective Crystalline Chamber shiver to life with the lingering essence of Mages centuries-dead. It was what he had expected, but not what he had wanted for Elise. She deserved better than this place and its golden chains. Better than the cold reflection it presented to the interred; the cold meditation or madness it would demand of them.

Twice in the forty nine years of his life had this room been unsealed by those few Mages who knew of its existence; those practiced in the same whispers that composed the place. Once, it had been used to contain his creator. Now it contained one of his components. Guilt always came with seeing Elise, even in the best conditions, knowing that she had sacrificed part of herself to aid in his creation. Of course, he would always remind himself, his creation was necessary. What he had originally been created to do was necessary, despite its momentary nature. What he was, however, did not feel as though it had been in his creators' plans. Perhaps that was the point. Having a soul was not something that Golems were often gifted with. Crosos Granz may have been a momentary plan that lingered well beyond his usefulness...far beyond his crowning moment.

"You're terrifying as always, Granz," the emaciated form of the Silver Glint said with a voice surprisingly lucid, drawing him from sad recollection, "but even your visage is welcome when it obscures my own." She was one of the few who would indulge Crosos Granz's grim humor, even if it reached the self-depreciating realms that were so close to truth. This was one of many things that had made kin of the Silver Glint and the Golem Knight. He offered a lopsided grin, though Granz wished he had the capacity to force a frown; there was little warmth in this place...and Elise's condition made the Golem mildly uncomfortable. "You're always staring..." she sounded somewhat sad, tilting her head to obscure her face behind a veil of white hair, "even though most in Aedrasil have you outnumbered..."

That was enough to draw a laugh from him, even though there was a mounting discomfort in it...a tension. Elise laughed along, far less hollow, though she did not reveal her eyes to him, again. In truth, he was staring; struggling still with his guilt...the overwhelming sea that came with seeing. Serpera had been right. Coming here would do nothing but cause harm to the Golem. He had none of it, though, arguing vehemently until the Councilor had relented. The mention of the Crystalline Chamber had stalled him, but there was little on Aedrasil that could deter a determined Golem.

"And you're always hiding your face. It's unsightly, Elise." It was the best he could do to return her good nature, the sincerity in his voice a mockery of truth, "I..." he lowered his head, as if in prayer, "am sorry that only I am able to come." Many of the Unsung Heroes were dead, their time of glory only lasting a short while after Kanys' death. Two of eight remained, if his count remained current, and three if you were to count Elise among them; which Crosos did currently not. Awaiting death and dead were interchangeable in his book. "Seralle of the Shadowed Countenance," this elicited a snicker from Elise, who swayed slightly within her bonds, "and the Firebrand have had no contact with the Vaunted Council in some time."

"Of course...I would not travel so far, and open old wounds, just to see a friend executed." Eyes peered out to him from between slightly-parted locks, silver halos amidst a field of snow. They were feverish, simultaneously complacent, but aware and focused on the Golem.

"Nor would I; though it seems by some ill fortune I am to have a better view than any but yourself."

Her lips trembled for a moment, her breathing growing deep without an increase in rapidity; though he could not tell from what. Tears formed on the edges of half-hidden eyes and Elise seemed to bite back something, twitching slightly somewhere that set her whole frame into a barely perceived motion. "Tell them that I love them, when you see them, Granz. Please, do me that mercy. If I can not tell them, I must pass that burden onto you...who I love as much as any of the Unsung."

His heart rent in two, but he did not speak. Crosos Granz had not the strength for utterances, only the strength to accept a last wish.

- - - - - -

"Don't consider yourself honored, just yet, Dodger," Isyph Al-Delad said with a derision pointed at her own heart, "I've done nothing to honor anyone, you or myself. If anything, I'm a fool girl for singing my songs in an alleyway instead of on the streets and an irregular fool at that..." She thought back to the day's events and quietly despaired that the Lunar Festival had yet to begin. That would put the thought of failure from her mind. "I don't plan to be here, next year," it was a thoughtless admission, but one that was strangely poignant to her, one that demanded further release, "I'll probably be a merchant, around this time next year. That is, if there isn't a Guild that...takes..."

Somewhere along the line, Isyph had shouted that Dodger was a genius and had darted off with a new goal in mind; weaving through crowds with a practiced ease. The busy streets, deep in their preparations, became more clogged as she moved along. "If that's what it takes, I'll take them all. I won't become a merchant, like my father. I'll become my own kind of professional. I won't go back to Silverbrook and I won't apologize." She spoke to herself, but figured that Dodger would hear if he happened to be following along. Honestly, Isyph hadn't glanced back since leaving the alley. "Why didn't anyone tell me that I could do this?!" Frustration spurred the Uquii girl into even hastier steps, toward the Guild Center.

Earlier, she had been pointed to the building; but had decided instead on trying her luck with the Enlistment kiosks. It was a foolish move, but twilight had yet to fall upon them, and Isyph intended, fully, to correct the injustices afflicted on her by countless others. Snide comments, outright dismissal...all of it would be met with a smile, once she was atop Aedrasil; swimming in good fortune. All it would take was some paperwork, she hoped. Now, its shadow lingered over her; the simplicity of its boxy shape nearly laughable compared to the bizarre Guildhomes she had seen, earlier.

The Guild Center was a place that saw many come and go with each day, their business brought here for review or approval...though Isyph didn't quite understand how most of it was sorted or handled. In fact, she doubted that even with a detailed explanation that she could fully grasp the expanse of the bureaucracy involved a Guild's daily activities. It was daunting, but not so much so that the Uquii girl would balk. Certainly she would have to accept a few extra responsibilities, but they were easily dismissed shadows in the light of a ripening opportunity. Irregulars, Dodger had said, earlier. The word had rolled through her mind a hundred times since, almost haunting her as the derision of her early foray into Guilds and their mysterious ways. Despite its negative connotations, there was something alluring to it that demanded she acknowledge it.

"Irregulars," she mumbled, placing her foot down on the first in a long series of steps to follow, "there are probably hundreds of irregulars in Vaald, alone."

- - - - - -

Wraith was not used to interacting with people so often and becoming 'Lucia' had placed a large strain on her patience. The act was not simple to keep up, in front of the Aedrasilians; who would, still, on occasion pick up the slight strangeness in her accent. Three years had not been long enough to unravel the mysteries that had presented themselves; the largest of which Wraith considered to be the affliction which had been eating away at her people...the more tertiary being the nuances of Aedrasilian verbal communication. That had inspired her to include the stutter in her words, making Lucia seem as though she were naturally inclined to oddities of speech; perhaps even endearing her facade to some of the natives she dealt with. Their strange names and customs, however, were fascinating...but, unfortunately, were largely outside of what she allowed to be Lucia's purview.

As such, as Lucia, she could not ask the question on her mind...nor simply turn the man aside. Instead she allowed herself to project a wan smile, as though she had not been listening carefully; as though Lucia's mind was somewhere filled with flowers and flowing streams, far from the city that surrounded her. The tattooed man smiled, the bizarre lines on his face twisting and contorting beyond their seemingly possible boundaries. "So-sorr-sorry, sir, I didn't hear you!" Lucia called out in a voice that Wraith found to be somewhat nasal, a world removed from her own surprisingly husky tones. "If you wouldn't mind repeating it, I'll make sure that it gets into the right hands!"

He grinned more widely, showing filed teeth that may have elicited a more repulsed response than what Lucia gave and nodded. "I seen you with the masked Eclipse, moving smooth with they numbers. You one of them? Look to be, though looking not to be." She wondered if his simplified, off-kilter speech was the product of some unlucky bludgeoning or whether the man thought Lucia a dullard; or, if he saw something more than he would say. He looked down on her, expectantly, cocking a non-existent eyebrow...then, seeming to understand that she would not immediately reply, proffered further information; albeit crookedly. "I know a Scratch, down by the Pools. He on his way to slow sleep, but his feet got wind of where his heart be afraid." That Lucia understood with perfect clarity. There was a Moonscratched, as the Deladish sometimes called the afflicted, by the Serene Pools; near the Palace. Given the tattooed man's words, she could only surmise that he meant that the afflicted was walking somewhere. Why she could not understand, though she had seen the look that the tattooed man's words described.

Lucia nodded and tried her best to look slightly off-put, then feigned regaining her composure. "Yes, I work with them from t-time to time. I can pass that information along, i-i-if you can give me more details. Who is the Scratch," she rather liked that term, for some reason, "that you're talking about? What do they look like?"

"Nameless and faceless is he, to me; know him by his raving, is all. Good night-sun's-wait to you." The bulky, absent eyebrowed, tattooed man before her began walking away; after offering a greasy smile. There was something so self-satisfied in the motion, in the smile, that made Lucia grin with her own smug amusement. Wraith had no intention of following the lead, by herself. There were others who would doubtlessly assist. Instead, she would find another to lend their hand to the acquisition of this Nameless Scratch.

"Quite a fancy name," she mumbled, though it sounded far more sincere when accompanied by Lucia's cheery tones, "and quite a bizarre informer. Was that man human? Surely not." While it appeared that Lucia fumbled with a small book, Wraith moved through the streets with purpose; avoiding coming so close to others that she would have to brush against them. Thankfully, there were some of the Order not too far from where she had been standing. Her original mission was to do just this, though it was but an excuse to idle about; after all, the Lunar Festival was at hand...and if last year was any indication, this year's spectacle would prove equally bloody. Truly, it was not the blood that excited her; but the idea that these people were willing to sacrifice themselves to avoid their reality. The Aedrasilian mind was certainly foreign to her, but so too were their problems.

"Please find K, Wordan," she said to a taller-than-most member of the Order of the Eclipse, smiling all the while, "I have something that he may be i-interested in!" Wordan shifted uncomfortably, having been recognized, and nodded. "I'll be waiting for him, here." The tall one moved with reluctance, but purpose; setting aside his sign, which Lucia took up instead...moving to be the only maskless member of the Order standing on that particular street. As people walked by, she would hold it higher; as though hope filled her with each passing person.

There is not only one answer, it read.

Despite herself, Isyph laughed, taking a few more steps toward the entrance of the Guild Center. Dodger had the right of it, from where she stood, but that momentary oversight. "I suppose that's so," she admitted, grinning warmly back at the man she felt was fast becoming a new friend, "I had never even thought to try to make a Guild of my own. It seems like a huge undertaking..." Though there were myriad doubts the Uquii girl held, she chose to run through that initial hurdle; instead of trying to make a succession of leaps, she would drive through the heart of whatever monstrous minutae presented its self. "I hope your feeling is right."

Turning, she moved up the steps without ceremony; surprised at the lack of people in front of the Guild Center. Perhaps Vaald was not so busy as Isyph had assumed. They were easy steps, evenly spaced and otherwise unremarkable...save for errant cracks that caught the eye. More impressive, however, was the door they lead to. It did not stand so high as to inspire awe, nor was it decorated with lavish designs of monsters or heroes. It was, however, or at least appeared to be, made of gold. Isyph almost caught herself salivating at the thought of organizing its removal; disregarding a nagging suspicion that the gold was merely a plating, or altogether fake. Instead, she pushed the door aside and let her gait gain an air of pride as she entered.

"Hundreds," she said on the other side of that particular threshold, "of people that will be looking at us to help them. That's not going to be easy, even if they end up helping us, or me, or you, or even each other in the end. So long as...so long as it works." Isyph wondered if she were being presumptuous, but that didn't show or give her any pause. What did show, in the stead of wandering thoughts, was disappointment; an eyebrow raised and her lips set about becoming an almost-pout. The Guild Center was mostly empty, a few people lingering about on benches littered around their atrium. Ahead of her were various counters, situated in carved niches, some shuttered and others with semblances of lines in front of them. Signs hung above each, indicating their purpose.

She took it in for a moment, trying to let her misplaced disappointment morph into optimism. Of course, it was a simple task once Isyph realized that she was being irrational. Slowly, she touched her cheek; wondering if the warmth there was some new frustration...or hope. Vaald, it seemed, was a place that was wont to contend with her opinion of it at every turn. Or she was nervous. Regardless, the line for registration was non-existent and the shutters were still open; revealing a blue-haired woman thumbing idly through a stack of papers.

"We're in luck, Dodger. All we need is a name and the fee," Isyph didn't think she could afford a Guildhome, but cared little...despite her earlier lamentations about that night's lodgings, "though, I'm a bit...light of coin..." Even with the ill-gotten gains of her earlier adventures, the amount of gold in her satchel was relatively sparse; lingering somewhere close to seventy.

"The fee for registration of a new Guild is currently one-hundred and ninety-nine gold discs," came a few disinterested words from the blue-haired woman, who glanced at the Thieves for a moment, "That's one third the usual cost, in case your curiosity is piqued. The Enlistment Drive is a low-point in the year for new Guild registration. As such, the Vaunted Council has deemed that this 'one-hundred and ninety-nine' disc price is sufficient for irregulars." She continued thumbing through her papers before holding them up to her nose, despite the glasses that rested there, covering her face for a moment. "Before you get excited, however, I'm on break for the next five minutes."

Wodran hurried off in a calmly manner east of the townsquare, the long robes could barely impede his tall stature, he was afterall more used than most to such attire from the days of wearing them back in the elven enclave. Speaking of which, he was reminded how the city felt so artificial, blocky even - too much stone and dead wood, compared to the lushness of home, even if there were spots of greenery here and there for folks like him. He soon came to rest eyes upon his objective, another man in robes of a different kind without the mask, non-chalantly leaning back against the wall with thick folded arms - observing what few people were loitering right outside the Guild Hall.

Quickly walking up to him, Wodran placed a set of long slender fingers on those shoulders. Feeling the odd texture of wood ...or maybe leather, underneath the fabric. Though it seemed fitting that he would wear some armor, this 'K' seemed the type afterall. "Madame Lucia has requested your pressence." He said to the man, not that he was expecting a reply exactly.

"...found anything?" The man he spoke to shook his head, Wodran felt a pang of disappointment. "She said that you would be interested to hear her." K gave him an understanding nod before he pushed himself off the wall and started to take slow steps away from the scene. Then he looked at the doors of the establishment, pointing two fingers at his eyes then at the entrance before glancing towards Wodran.

"Very well, but don't dally. It zis ungentlemen to keep le madame waiting." Wodran chided, slightly uptight.

K rolled his eyes ever so slightly then gave a couple of quick, tiny nods to pacify him, it was no secret that the half-elf had a thing or two for the woman. Much as he tried to hide it under his constant prim and proper behaviour, but the way he always seemed so urgent whenever it came to anything pertaining to Lucia gave it away to everyone.

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Soon Lucia came to see a farmiliar face on a man pushing past the crowd, he stopped a few feet short of her and looked at the sign board she held. The quizzical expression upon him was soon replaced with a rare condescending smile for only the briefest of moments, ah how the mighty have fallen.

Isyph Al-Delad stifled a hearty chuckle as Dodger and the formerly-bored blue-haired woman disappeared; a surprisingly small amount of paperwork in front of her. The shutter closed and the Uquii allowed herself to smile softly, it was all falling into place almost too easily. Dodger was strange, but he had certainly made his tendencies somewhat clear to Isyph during their brief time as companions; the gods themselves seem to have had a hand in the arrangement of this meeting...of the formation of what she was determined to label the Starless Partners. Automatically, she set about her part of the work; filling in information with alacrity, her penmanship flowing and legible but bearing small missteps born from her excitement. Largely, she felt they would be nothing...but something in her kept nagging about the small imperfections. Daln's voice, again.

Damnit all, old man, she said to her father's not-specter, I can handle this without you distracting me. Now get back to--

What in all the hells was she thinking? This was no time to argue with someone who wasn't there. Brushing away the odd humor that had settled over her, Isyph let her thoughts still and focused, again, on the paperwork. It wasn't long before the shutter slid open and Dodger appeared, leaving behind what she could only assume was a bag of golden discs and a few words for his momentary lover; then a few words for Isyph, herself.

"Things been goin' well on yer end?"

She nodded enthusiastically and flipped the paper to show him. Everything was near completion, save for a spot next to her signature at the bottom. The Starless Partners was a concept nearing its fruition.

"I can see that you have a grand way of dealing with things, Dodger. I'm sure that many-a lady of Delad will, or have, come to know you well. Thank you for covering the fee...I would hug you, but I'm not sure that I want to right now," she offered a smile that easily matched the enthused nature of her earlier nod, instead, and offered the papers forward...starting to blush, a little, though she couldn't, or wouldn't, say why.

"It's only right...that..." Isyph Al-Delad sought for the words she wanted, "you and I run the Starless Partners together. You covered the fee, it was you who gave me the idea; in a roundabout kind of way. I wouldn't be here, right now, if it weren't for you."

She took a deep breath, but her smile didn't waver.

"So, Dodger, I guess what I'm asking is...will you be my partner?"

- - - - - -

K stood there, smirking at her. Wraith's skin itched at the sight of it; his silent mockery of her position. She wished there were a basket of serpents nearby, with which to adorn his face. Their bite would not penetrate his E.P.E.S, but it would bring her some small peace to surprise him in such a manner. Distantly, she made a mental note to acquire herself a bucket of snakes for her companion. Lucia offered none of that, though, practiced as Wraith was at controlling both herself and the reflection of it found in her persona. Lucia smiled warmly and closed the distance between them, though not coming so close as to touch him.

"Hello, K," she offered in her nasal way, letting some legitimate warmth creep into her words, "I'm g-glad you've come! We have a lead, thou-though it came from a strange source; I think we had best do our best to follow it up! Sorry if this distracted you from the other cases," She lightly took his hand and gave it a small tug, "but I get the feeling that this may be urgent!" With that said, she began walking, putting distance between herself and the crowd; down the street, towards a junction that would eventually lead them to the Serene Pools.

Sometimes an errant Scratch was nothing of great import, but the hulk-without-eyebrows had given her a very strong feeling about the nature of this particular instance. Wraith had long ago come to trust her immediate instincts, though she tempered gut feelings with a filter of uncanny logic, whether it be in a combative scenario or simple interactions. Once they had cleared the group, she decided to take a risk, slipping into an unfiltered whisper; albeit remaining within the Aedrasilian common tongue.

"And wipe that smug look off your face, before I do it for you." She wasn't serious, but it gave her a reason to hear her own voice again. It was a grand feeling, to let Lucia's trappings fall away and allow herself to be the woman she was at heart. Lucia's smile accompanied Wraith's words, though this was not feigned. She enjoyed teasing K, from time to time, truly, but most of her mild venom was born from her feeling of connection to the other deserter. They had, after all, been through quite a lot together. If she could not be herself around the others, she would certainly take that opportunity to do so when she and K were alone. With others she felt it to be far too large a risk. "There's no telling where the bastard got off to, while I was waiting on you. We've got nothing solid on information; aside from the gender of the Scratch and that he has a propensity for ranting. Quickness is key, I think, this Scratch could be a danger...so I want you ready."

She smiled, slightly, dropping both her whisper and herself into Lucia once more.

"It's good to see you, again, by the way, K. I f-feel like we don't talk enough."

"Good luck and good idea," she said as Dodger moved toward the querent, though Isyph was starting to wonder whether or not it was really necessary. Still, the momentary distraction would allow her to finish the task at hand without much fuss. The blue-haired woman had started to open her mouth, but seemed placated when the Thief started chatting up the follower of Gnara. A frown settled in rather quickly and Isyph could have sworn that it was some kind of jealousy that ate away at the woman. The Uquii girl couldn't quite wrap her head around it, though she could hazard some good guesses as to why the woman was acting that way.

Without a moment wasted, Dodger now occupying what had been a momentary non-obstacle, Isyph Al-Delad slipped around to the blue-haired woman and handed her the papers. The clerk looked them over, with a slight nod and searched around her desk for something Isyph wasn't fully focused on; assuming it to simply be a stamp, probably saying something like approved or accepted. After all, the fee had been paid and the paperwork was well filled out.

"This will do, miss Al-Delad," came the eventual reply, followed by the quiet thump of her approval, "the Starless Partners is now among the countless Guilds of Delad. When you've gathered the discs for a Guildhome, you can return here and have construction started." Isyph nodded, offering the woman who now seemed far less bored a smile. "If you would like to do business through me, you can ask any of the other registrars on your return. My name is Ottavia Sangrhi," she put the papers away with alacrity and started to close her shutter, "and I hope fortune smiles on you and yours in the coming days. Also, miss-" Isyph's smile widened a little, knowing with the shift in Ottavia's tone that she now addressed the woman that Dodger spoke to.

"Please, miss Sangrhi, allow me to handle the situation," the Uquii interrupted, "I saw the temple of Gnara, earlier and my friend seems to know Vaald well. You've done enough, today." Ottavia seemed to think it over, glancing between all of those gathered before her window...and unceremoniously pulled the shutter down; a motion that was not entirely without chagrin...despite how Isyph felt she may have mollified some of the ill mood that seemed to hang around her. "Thank you," she cried, cupping her hands around her mouth to ensure that the kind woman heard her words, "I'll make sure she gets there!" Of course, she doubted that the blue-haired woman cared much about whether or not the follower of Gnara found her temple.

Her enthusiasm had waned, slightly, but the day was shaping up to be increasingly interesting; even though fatigue was starting to settle heavily in her ankles and the arches of her feet. She turned, to Dodger and the Half-Elf. She didn't intend to leave the woman in Dodger's hands, at least not alone. Three out of three he had advanced on and Isyph could well identify a womanizer. Dodger certainly fit the bill, dispelling most doubts she would have held.

"Hi there, I'm Isyph Al-Delad," she offered, still smiling, removing her hood to introduce herself, "sorry for that...but Dodger and I know the way to the temple you're looking for. As much as I feel sure that he'd love to show you around, by himself, I think it'd be best if I tagged along," Isyph shrugged to herself and thrust her hand toward the woman, though not with any excess of speed, "I'd rather not get lost, before the Lunar Festival begins." Her last words were accompanied with a sidelong look at her Thief friend, the edges of her lips curling upward slightly; somewhat bemused by what she had come to learn of him, which was scant little.

Still, she had her own motives for injecting herself into Dodger's plan. A reason she liked to think well trumped that of the other Thief. As of now, she was co-leader of the Starless Partners; and certain responsibilities she was more eager to get to than others.

Three of One. Curator of Eternity, I have come.

The voice that echoed through Eternity was not that of Origin, as she was still attempting to wrap her intellect around the nigh-unfathomable shift in her realm; the shift that had occurred within herself. She feared for the worst, the shiver that ran through her obvious to the strange light that was coalescing before her. Strange, she noted, that her vision seemed much more limited in the roiling, inky shadows of Eternity. Stranger still was that she had shivered...she had never before held the means to express herself in such a way; though it seemed, now, that she was possessed of a representation within her own realm...a body, of sorts. A darker dread began to settle in as she lifted hands to her face and strained against the chromatic intruder's glaring formation.

She had never before been forced to materialize within Eternity, since Kanys had sundered her upon his birth. Whatever it was that now arranged its self before her was incredibly powerful, though she suspected that it was not an entirely malign entity. Yet, now stood, as she had appeared in a form that had almost been lost to her unending memories. Origin directed her eyes downward, observing the body-her body-that had undoubtedly been formed from her understanding of herself. As such, it was an imperfect thing; gaps appearing within her radiance, filled with small flickers of static that waxed and waned in size...stretching over her porcelain lambency in waves, then receeding into small puddles. This was all very, very wrong.

Who are you, stranger? The fact that I do not know this is unsettling...much as my current situation is. I would like an explanation.

The light before her expanded, countless hues of red and blue screaming across its surface as the ball became something humanoid. Much like herself, it did not have discernible facial features; but, Origin could feel that the similarities between them were truly scarce. Finally, it settled into the form of what she guessed to be a man; taller than she and more broad, lit crimson and azure from within. A strobing man-shaped hole in Eternity.

It was not my intent to perturb, though I knew the possibility existed. I have drawn you into your incomplete form to allow us to communicate. I had not expected your degeneration to be so advanced. My apologies.

His voice did not echo through Eternity as Origin's did, but sounded clear and potent nonetheless. Each syllable was accompanied by the pulsing of his outline, stretching into bizarre spikes and flailing tendrils. His strangely flat inflection gave her a sense of familiarity. She stepped forward, a small ripple of white light traveling a short way outward from each gentle touch of her feet against the "floor". Perhaps, she wondered, she had received such a guest in the past. There were few who could insert themselves into her realm, much less force Eternity and Origin into existence for a conversation.

I am an Emissary, Origin. My arrival here serves as a catalyst; precipitating a sequence of events that may prove favorable to the improvement of your current state. I will refrain from answering any questions, as my responses and subsequent explanation may quickly become superfluous.

She felt small, when in this form. Much more comfortable was her usual state, that which allowed her to survey all of her empty realm with a cursory glance. It almost made her feel like a child, again, though she had never truly been such a thing. It did not help that this Emissary made her feel incredibly ignorant of what was to transpire. While distant familiarity had eased her earlier dread, Origin was not entirely ready to accept this anomaly as entirely friendly. Rarely did those who sought Origin out have kind designs in mind for her. There were too many unknowns with the situation for her to be anything but cautious. This was certainly an event she had yet to encounter; perhaps the cog she had felt fall from its place, earlier.

Forgive me Emissary, but I do not understand the meaning of this. I was unaware of your existence, until you brought me here. Being ignorant is not something I am familiar with, so forgive my trepidation in accepting your words at their apparent value.

The other pulsed steadily, but did not respond; waiting for her to continue. Despite her words, there was something familiar about the situation...perhaps even familiar about her visitor. She briefly considered the possibilities, slipping more easily from thoughts of the disconcerting Emissary and into her more natural mode of contemplation. As usual, she found the information was already buried within her; though she felt certain that it had been obscured to her a moment before. The machine, it seemed, had a hand in this as well. Silence lingered between the two, though she felt that this Emissary understood well enough what she was thinking; how she had given herself to the stream of information presenting its self.

You serve a dual purpose in being here, I have come to understand. You are to ensure that Eternity exists in perpetuity, defying the disability inflicted upon me by my sundering. As you maintain that function, you are to serve as my window to Aedrasil. While fulfilling these roles, you also will act as a barrier to those who would enter Eternity without my consent. I see that, now. I have been anticipating your arrival for some time, though I was not aware of that desire.

I was not aware that you had desires, Origin. What information I was gifted with was unfortunately scant. I am merely aware of my purpose...and to some extent, the future that awaits you; or, at the least, my own involvement in it. It is my imperative desire that you accomplish this future. You will find my functionality to be quite diverse, once I have acclimated to your empty realm.

Origin smiled inwardly. Emissary expanded outward, losing the humanoid form he had adopted; becoming much similar to the swirl of colors that she had viewed those she knew had importance to the cyclical future of Aedrasil. Indeed, Origin could see into Emissary. Eternity was still dark around them, but her new companion provided a much clearer image than what she was accustomed to. Faces and figures filled her vision, vibrant in their mortality and defined far more than the smoke-effigies she had crafted before. The Lunar Festival had yet to begin, in their frame of time; meaning that their journey was only beginning.

So, too, did she think that her own journey would begin alongside the yet-to-be heroes.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He could hear the soft wind flowing through rustling leaves set upon nearby trees and the crystalline sound of water, trickling into a pond of sorts somewhere. He consulted his map, logically trying to piece together clues as to where they were based on what he heard. The Serene Pools, it read. Marked by the hand drawn icon of a golden little hut on the paper.

A Temple?