[color=96C8A2][h3]𝓠𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓵[/h3][/color]

A perfect mirror, enveloped in a wreath of leafy green, stretched hundreds of meters before him.  Its gleaming surface reflected the white-blotched blue of the cloudy sky, and the feathered face of the one who stood apart.  Though one of the first to arrive, Quarel had felt the distinct and familiar urge to linger at the back of the group most keenly, and strayed away while the others assembled to the water’s edge.  As so often happened, the less sociable decision was the wiser one, and in a quiet couple of moments of both figurative and literal reflection, Quarel was able to take in the exquisite beauty of Yuji Estate.  In that time, he didn’t drum up any philosophical musings, nor poetic praise to heap upon the sight.  Creativity wasn’t a crop he’d cultivated, but even if he had, trying to impose words on such an experience might have struck him as pretentious.  Quarel liked to think he was a simple man, one not in pursuit of any higher ideals like beauty, but even he could pause and stare with eyes of brilliant gold into the lake.  

He remembered his comrades among the Nightcrawlers—how they thought of his coin-colored peepers as omens of good fortune, hinting at the wealth that all lowlifes longed for.  That hope –the hope of a golden day, far off in the future but sure to come- kept them going, even after the weeks and months of hungry bellies and miserable accommodations piled up.  Quarel hungered with them, able to piece together with a discerning mind that few would ever wake up to find that their golden day would come.  Many would be arrested, or die, as criminals so often did, before the dawn ever peeked above their horizons.  They labored, Quarel knew, for the sake of the bosses, who reaped the rewards while keeping their minions just hungry enough to not give up.  Even knowing this, the strigiforme managed to keep his wits by promising himself that he, loathsome and pathetic being that he was, could rise above the common crook and make something of himself.  That had been a while ago; now, his choices led him here, hoping to expand his horizons beyond the meager confines the Night Bosses allotted him.

Someone began to speak, her voice loud and authoritative.  It was time to begin.  Moving with characteristic silence, Quarel hurried up from the lakeside back toward the group, which had grown substantially.  Noting with some perturbation the guide’s extravagant lack of clothing, and wondering if that was appropriate for her species, he mostly tuned her out and instead scrutinized Yuji Estate with his own bright eyes.  He examined the roof in particular, spotting several nooks and crannies that might make for a good nest.  After a short while the group headed inside, where Quarel got a good look at the cramped bunkhouse.  [i]Yech.[/i]  Hearing Xiang go on and on about fees reminded him of the emptiness of his own pockets.  He’d spent most of his money getting his gear patched up and buying provisions with which to begin this new career, and now he was expected to scrounge up what little he had left just to stuff himself in here?  [i]No way, lady.  Birds and cages don’t mix.  The roof’s good enough for me.[/i]  Just like that, most of the complications were washed away.  All that might bother him would be storage, but he guessed he wouldn’t have much to store for quite some time.  His mind already made up, Quarel followed the succubus idly through the exorbitant apartments.  Bathing wouldn’t be an issue either, since like all strigiformes he preened himself rather than getting wet.  If these other people didn’t like his natural musk, they could stuff it.  His brow-tufts rose ever so slightly as Xiang discussed a person being blown apart like she might a fun circus act, before skipping off.  [i]Okay, psycho lady.  Readin’ ya loud and clear.[/i] 

He did actually emit a deep chuckle when the succubus decided it was time to shill.  [i]What’ve you been doin’ for the past quarter-hour, exactly?[/i]  Her news, however, dampened his spirits considerably.  There were no jobs available for low-level, wannabe adventurers.  Instead, everyone was supposed to find something he or she was good at and work until an opportunity arose.  “Typical.”  His anger smoldered; what a waste of time!  He had no money for any of these ‘colleges’, but he wasn’t about to be skinned by some loan shark, either.  Sure, with his pretty good strength, dexterity, and intelligence he could find work, but why bother with a civvie job when he already had at least a foothold with the mob?  Prospects as an adventurer looked even sourer than with the Nightcrawlers.  

Once back outside, he glared at the sky irritably.  For all his dreams of going legit and making it big as an adventurer, it was the deadest end yet.  With a resigned expression he wondered how long it would take to get back to Axel on foot, and where he might be able to find some trouble.  [i]Too early for drunkards,[/i] he mused.  [i]The ‘Hyenas’ have been making more noise in the residential district lately.  It would be dangerous to stick my neck out when we have so little info, but if I find a couple I could rough ‘em up, rob ‘em blind, and maybe take one back for questionin’.  Fat chance they have anything juicy, but who knows.  I bet I can get Lars and Glenn to help me.[/i]  He found himself looking at the happy, smiling face of some cultist-looking guy, and it made him mad.  [i]Complacent moron.  How do you get to be that old and not know that slavery’s pretty much the only thing worse than this?  We're the dregs!  At least I have a hole to scurry back to.[/i]  That was the last straw.  Arms crossed, he turned his head this way and that, too pissed off by the whole ordeal to focus on what to do next.