Half of Dawn’s attention was on the maps spread out before her, the other somewhere far in the distance, flickering about the edges of her Gift’s range. As such, it was only at the sound of her name that she started, tearing her gaze away from the table and upwards, towards the doorway. Upon seeing who was standing there, she immediately brightened, stepping around the table to better meet the visitor. “Drake. It’s good to see you, ah, up and about again.” She smiled, clasping her hand on the other’s shoulder for a moment before releasing. “You’ve been out for a few weeks, now. I was getting worried, actually.”

By now, it was reasonable to expect that whenever Drake died that he would come back to life not too long after. It was...still rather unpleasant an experience, to say the least, and definitely something that she preferred not to see on a regular basis, but it was a reassuring bit of knowledge nonetheless.

“We were attacked by Liberty not long after you, ah...went out. So we had to move here.” Before she could say more on the matter, another of their group had joined them in the office- Mina, their resident doctor. Dawn nodded her head in greeting, stepping back to allow her better access to Drake. “Good morning, Mina,” she said. “The watch went well. Hadn’t picked anything unusual up, which is the best we can ask for, I think.”

Aside from Drake’s awakening, it had been nice and uneventful. It was shaping out to be a relatively alright day so far.

Which is why something had to happen to put a damper on it.

Dawn stiffened suddenly, fingers curling slightly against the sides of her legs. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured, then unceremoniously took her leave, striding off as quickly to the basement as she could without outright running. Upon her entrance to the molded depths of the house, she sucked in a sharp breath at the stench of rot and infection. Dawn composed herself, stepping fully into the basement and allowing both captor and prisoner to fully hear the sound of her footsteps.

“Montana.” Her voice was firm. She said nothing more- little else was needed. Dawn had preferred not to enter the basement in the days that they had been there, not particularly wanting to stroll in and gawk at the scene that had been built beneath their feet. That had been allowed to pass. There was a reason why that had changed now, and if anyone knew it it would be Montana himself.

Her eyes flickered to the prisoner behind him. Starvation and fatigue had been imprinted deep into her face, showing the full, grisly truth of what she had undergone in every crevice and hollowed crack.

A fresh pang of guilt throbbed in Dawn’s chest.

She turned back to Montana, watching him carefully.

The older male was wordless in his response. Like Oren, he understood that words weren't needed when a moment like this arose. They existed to comfort the captive, and, comfort the captor. A ritual to absolve the former of fear, and the latter of guilt. Which was redundant as far as they were concerned. Oren, who had steadily earned Montana's respect, had no fear, and the regenerator who expressed this respect with a single nod, felt no shred of guild. No pang of conscious.

From within, he withdrew a blade. It was long, slightly curved toward the middle, and ending in a straight point. Wrought of modern steel, and buffed by the bodies it had been plunged into during its career. It held a strange sheen in the low light. It had been dipped in poison, none save an experienced, or extremely astute observer would notice this small fact.

Before he could act, he heard a pair of feet descending the stairs. He could distinguish each wanderer by the sound and style of their gait. At times, even their moods, by the hasty or lackluster sound of their movements. If he was correct, this was Dawn descending the stairs.

"Montana."

The blade returned to its sheath, tucked neatly by his ribcage.

Montana was well aware his body could, at times, move quicker than thought, and that a contest between his body and her mind wouldn't be unlike two gunslingers with their hands poised above their revolvers, twenty paces at high noon.

He had sheathed it because he respected her wishes.

Instead, Montana knelt beside the woman, and produced a small canteen of water. He angled her face upward with a finger beneath her chin, and slowly tipped the contents toward her mouth. Water of life.

Capital Base, Liberty

Everything in Erubesco glittered, Beretta thought. The women, the dresses- Even the candies she had sampled as part of her "cultural crash course" training were flecked with edible shimmers. The music was rich and came in so many kinds, and the clothing was made of materials so grand that even touching the smuggled swatches had felt indulgent. It was a horrific waste of resources, all in all.

But as toyed with her hair in the bathroom mirror, she could not swallow down the small, evil part of her that wanted a piece of it. Liberty was nice, but it did not shine. Her room was shared with her partner, Mayday, and consisted of a pulldown bed, some drawers, and a bathroom. The kitchen was shared with others in the building, just down the hall, and all of it was just... there.

Her life was lived in shades of black and white and grey and metal or plastic or glass.

She stood by he drawers as she donned her dull black suit- her practical black suit, she reminded herself: A suit that looked sleek, was easy to move in, and that had been made for a member of Liberty by a member of Liberty. It was a part of a beautiful machine; a sense of togetherness far more endearing than any amount of gems or golden dust. Beretta nodded to herself as she fixed her sleeves. Yes. This was good- This was who she was.

Agent Beretta, assassin and defender of the communal good.

She plunked on to put on the awkward, stupid shoes she was supposed to be practicing in- Black, as well, but with tall heels that elevated her to several inches beyond her height. While she had not been given any specifics regarding the mission, she had been assigned the unfortunate footwear. They were no good to run in.

Finally ready, she took the stairs down alongside a few of her neighbors to catch the shuttle toward the city center. She would be getting off a bit before her usual stop for a meeting in the Espionage Headquarters today, but it would take her close enough. The surface shuttle, a sleek, matte metallic creature with standing room only by the time it passed her stop, came to a silent halt outside. She and the others lined up beside the door, pausing to allow an older woman to enter first. "Good morning, Agent," said the operator, and Beretta returned the greeting with a smile and a nod before taking her place down the aisle, holding onto a beam overhead for the short ride.

At the two subsequent stops, everyone shuffled to the sides to make room for new passengers. Everyone worked together to make it work. Everyone offered polite smiles.

The shuttle was crowded, but not cramped by the time it pulled up to Beretta's stop.

When the doors opened, the throngs of passengers parted away from the doors to allow those getting off to exit. The park where they had stopped was a pretty place, full of neat, practical groundskeeping and a few basic playground and exercise elements for citizens to use in their downtime. The Espionage Headquarters, about as nondescript as could be expected for a building filled with spies, was a short block's walk away.

Beretta walked in, cleared the security sensors around the doors, and was in with a quick flash of her credentials- Her fully-fledged Agent credentials. Someone looked at her a moment too long for comfort, perhaps because she was walking like an injured deer in her stupid shoes, but she was allowed to pass.

Because she was a Liberty Agent.

She proceeded to the elevator as per her instructions, and only when the doors had closed did her nerves settle in. She had been told there would be some kind of observation today- Would she be in trouble for not knowing how to walk? Or for still being frightened to drink the alcohol? The young Agent switched from foot to foot, and nearly twisted an ankle as she headed out into the short hall past several armed Agents.

She made out a familiar shape through the wall, however, and her discomfort was replaced with pleasant surprise. There was someone else there, too, but...

"Agent Kahn!" she exclaimed upon entering, only to snap into a stiff-armed solute when she realized whom the other woman was. "C-Councilor Laxton. Agent Beretta, reporting. I am.., apologizing for the outburst. Ma'am."

That night had been one of the best in Lottie’s recent memory. She and Skully had met up at midnight, covered their faces, and painted up a billboard. It was hard to see in the low light, but they had painted creative designs in vibrant colors. A little art to spice up the environment, at least until it was painted over.

The two were sitting on the roof of a store, watching the sun rise behind their masterpiece. Lottie was resting her head in Skully’s lap, tired from the all-nighter. She couldn’t think of anything that could make that moment any better. Watching the sunrise, seeing their work in full color, sharing a quiet moment with her best frien… her girlf… her favorite person. It was perfect.

Skully checked her watch, the motion rousing Lottie from her half-asleep state.

“We’d better get going. Gotta get back before my parents wake up.”

Lottie sat upright, slightly disappointed.

“I guess. School’s gonna suuuuuck.”

“Ugh. Totally. Guess I’ll see you in…” another glance at the watch, “Two hours.”

Lottie groaned as she hopped down from the roof.

---

Lottie had slept for about an hour after she got back home. She had nearly fallen asleep on the train and missed her stop. She had the shuffling gait of a zombie and most likely the pallor of one. She almost fell asleep once again in front of her locker, but woke up once she hit her head on the hard metal.

Despite how tired she was, there was a little tingle of excitement that came through her nerves every once in a while. She wondered how people would react to their little work of art. Even if she got in trouble for it, she was still glad she did it.

Whatever happened, it would be interesting.

With the sounds of movement around him he begun to stir. Motion passed him and he rose to his feet, pushing himself up the wall as the light began to melt into shapes and colors.

There he was, still stuck in the citadel halls as some two-bit janitor/slave. He cared little however. The whims of life had already claimed most if not all that he cared for. All that remained was to live for the sake of living.

He still had some concerns though, his most immediate one being whether or not anyone had caught him nodding off next to the meeting room like that. Truth was that he didn't care what they thought of his performance or work ethic. What his work master had to say however was of more consequence, especially when it meant having his ears talked off while pretending to listen lest he get reprimanded... Again.

_
From her crystal throne she watched the real world's going ons from her fluted gemstone castle. The floating image depicted the sights percieved by Edgar's eyes, a movie of the world presented as clear as Edgar himself saw it, perhaps clearer. The sounds of the bustling citadel echoed within her throne room. She listened keenly, picking out sounds selectively in the event he hears something that might be of even remote interest.

Edgar pushed himself from the wall and went over to the meeting room door. He peaked inside through a crack to see if the meeting was still underway. It was. He leaned out of view but he could still hear what was being discussed. So too could she. From what was being discussed by the woman who's name she swore she saw transmitted down into the 'Things Edgar Probably Isn't Going to Remember' memory banks there were two topics of any note. Firstly, there was a ball being discussed. Now she knew that Edgar was never going to be invited to a ball of that echelon, not in a million years, but she had definitely fantasized about attending balls before. She was sure hers were definitely far more elegant and extravagant than theirs could ever even conceive of being but attending balls was just one of those fun little things a lady like her found hard to resist.

The other topic of note was whatever the one cross-dressing scientist was going to discuss shortly. Whatever it was, surely it had to be more interesting than any of Edgar's work was. Tripping Edgar while he's carrying garbage started to get old after the hundredth time or so. He was a little more careful about carrying garbage since a few times ago she had tripped him while carrying garbage at the top of a long stairwell. It was a painful spill down some flights of stairs, that much was learned well.

_
Reaching forward she grasped an invisible door handle. The seams of her reality were shorn into the rectangular shape of a door, swinging open with the pull of her hand.

"Hey, I know just how much you love having me with you but I'm gonna go check out that meeting. Don't stray far now~"

Id teased, stepping out of his mind. The faint sound of door chimes unheard by all but Edgar was the tell she left to let him know she had gone out. The intangible thought scanned the area, checking the space around her for any signs of psychic tampering. Not a sign of another mind nor any devices which presented a threat to her. It helped that the electricity to the citadel was all shot up, leaving a lot of defense systems without power while they scrambled to cobble together their security measures.

With the coast clear for now she stuck herself into the room; unseen, unheard and unfelt.

_
Edgar wanted to vent internally at this point but withheld given the fact he couldn't know for sure if she didn't just let him think he was alone to see what he'd say behind her back. The last thing he needed right now was another case of reprimandation from her. Those were never pleasant.

Instead he swallowed his resentment and went about his way, head hung low in his dreary tired march. Off he left, setting down the hall to go finish off the rest of the trash cans in the wing before he would return to see if these cheap suits were finished their little meeting.

---

Agarwaen litse, roma uuvanimo.
Eld Fen stirred in his rest, the textures of his face shifting for a moment, before he and his face seemed to relax once again from the disturbance of his sleep.
Tel'ksh Eru cuiva rato!
The being stirred again, and along with his face the features of the sand he was laying on began to shift in a spiral around his sleeping figure. Strange lines seemed to pulse from his frame into the sand below him, and sections began to form; rising and falling in time with his breathing, which was becoming more and more shallow by the moment.
QUALM-LLIE!
This time, the cloaked being shot upward as the sand surrounding him did the same, forming something of a hollow obelisk that raised at least 50 feet in the clear desert sky. His hands supported himself against the obelisk as he willed it apart, his breath laborious but silent; the only indication being the rapid rising and falling of his chest.
"Seldarine o'aman." Came the grating whisper of his mouth-less voice, echoing in the minds of those near enough to hear his quiet prayer.

With the tower of Sand undone, he lifted the hood of his yellow cloak and vanished, only to appear several meters ahead of where he once stood. He continued this strange method of movement until he found himself standing before one of the few huts in the latest of their occupations, and his voice echoed into the minds of those inside.

"Child-Friend, are you prepared for the day's labor? He asked softly, attempting to make his harsh tone gentler for the child and her family; he certainly wouldn't wish to hear his own voice this early in the morning, so he did his best to lessen their burden.



"Here we may reign secure; and, in my choice,
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven."

"Better Hell than Heaven" indeed. The book had long since wasted away, the papers withered and yellow, the ink faded. Clockwork had to turn each page gently- almost reverently- through fear of tearing one or bringing the book entirely apart. But it was that passage that had managed to almost wholly survive the passage of time, save for a few missing letters here and there. She thought it was quite fitting.

Clockwork had been rooting around the farm to the best of her ability, but it had been Percival who had stumbled upon the cache of old, human literature stashed beneath the floorboards. They had been carefully sealed in leather wrappings, in an attempt to protect them from whatever elements might reach them. Evidently, the books had been loved as just as much as they had been feared. The one in her hands now was titled simply "Paradise Lost"- nothing more, nothing less. The cover, too, had faded considerably, but the contents had quickly caught the child's attentions.

She looked up from her book at a soft yelp of pain, head tilting slightly in her best approximation of curiosity. "What happened?" Her voice was toneless, giving away as little as her expression. "Have you been injured?"

From his spot in front of one of the kitchen's cleaner counter-tops, Soren glanced over at his youngest daughter, smiling warmly. "It's nothing. I just grazed myself- that's all." Pressing his lips together, Soren pulled his hand away from the pile of cured meats laid out before him, careful to not let any blood spill on any of it. "I should have really been more careful, but I suppose I was just lost in thought."

"Do you need to be healed?"

"No, I'd rather you didn't-" Before he could continue, a soundless voice had sliced cleanly through the air, taking root in both their heads. Clockwork glanced out the window, and Soren followed her gaze, wincing a little. He had gotten used to the odd method that Eld Fen used to communicate, but it tended to have a bit rougher an effect in the morning. Regardless, he smiled as he gave Clockwork a little nudge, gesturing outside. "It seems like Mr. Fen is waiting for you."

Clockwork nodded, idly reaching out to heal the gash in Soren's hand now that he was close enough (and purposefully ignoring the disapproving frown shot her way). "Indeed." She drew a ribbon from her pocket, and, carefully setting it against her current page, closed her book and set it down. "I'll go to meet him, then."

In one swift movement, Soren bent, planting a quick peck on Clockwork's forehead. He ran a hand through her hair as he straightened. "Enjoy yourself. And if you need anything, call for me or your brother."

"Yes, father."

As Clockwork slid out of her seat, padding out of the kitchen, Soren's face fell a little. Raising his hand a bit for inspection, he shook his head, cleaned the remaining blood, then returned to his work.

---

It took a few minutes for Clockwork to make her way outside, not quite able to easily reply to Eld as he had called for her. She moved at a quickened pace to compensate, and eventually found herself standing before the odd being, head craned back in order to better look him in the face. Or where his face would be if he had one proper, at the very least.

"Good morning, Fen. It's good to see you again." Given the fact that her expression didn't move an inch as she spoke, she didn't exactly appear to be pleased, but the sentiment stood nonetheless. "I apologize for the delay- I was with father. I'm ready whenever you are."

She didn't blink. Even after she had finished talking, she merely stared.

It wasn't entirely abnormal.


"Good Morn' to you as well dear, likewise." He murmured softly, although that was not likely to be how the girl would register his grating, hollow voice.
"Time is fleeting child-friend, but fear not it's waste." He continued, and had he a face it would have been smiling, before he rest his left hand on her shoulder.

After a mere moment, the scenery surrounding them changed drastically; the once sandy terrain was replaced by the smooth textures of marble floors as he moved the pair of them into his Yellow Cabin. Taking his hand off the girl, his head twisted to the right and his form tensed, only momentarily, before relaxing again. Taking a few steps forward, he seemed to be surveying the room they were now occupying; the floor was an enormous slab of marble that seemed to stretch indefinitely, and nearly no other features of the structure could be observed. They were standing in a single room that seemed to stretch out for an eternity, it's walls and ceiling unperceivable through the thick darkness that radiated from everywhere the duo wasn't. In his constructs, source-less light seemed to emanate from living beings and follow them where they walked, however this light only seemed to extend a few feet in any direction; a fact that wasn't particularly useful in such an empty expanse.

"I was considering Victorian, or perhaps Roman Gothic..." He mused aloud as walls began to rise from the floor, creating rooms and things of the like.

"What say thee, Child-Friend?"

It was only now that Clockwork blinked, somewhat dazed by the transition from sand to stone. Even after the many times it had been done, she supposed that she would never get fully used to it. Once she had recovered enough to be suitable, she let her eyes wander the empty expanse, heels clicking against the floor as she turned. With nothing to muffle it, the sound echoed into the distance.

"I've always held a preference for the Victorian era," she said. Her fingers hovered a few inches from a wall as it rose- not quite touching, but simply held steady. "The style, at the very least. Dignified. Ultimately, however, it would be your choice." Clockwork stepped away from the rising walls, opting to observe from a safer distance. Seeing as she had no power over the domain, there was little else to do than watch and talk for the moment. That hardly bothered her, however. Given the current state of affairs that the group had been facing, it was actually somewhat refreshing in its own right.

"Then Victorian it shall be." He replied in a voice that seemed somewhat lighter than standard, indicating he was pleased by her response.

Keeping her in his sights, he began to appear and disappear at various distances from her, each location he had occupied moments before growing from an empty expanse to a decorated room, the location Clockwork was standing becoming what appeared to be a library, equipped with empty shelves and an unused fireplace. After disappearing from her sight for several moments, he appeared in front of a shelf with a stack of books in his hands, and began to place them in the shelves.

"Would you care to assist me Child-Friend?" He asked, gesturing to a desk with several stacks of books varying in size that was not there moments ago. Many of the titles were fictional, ancient tokens of human creativity and wonder, but more commonly, horror. His Grandfather had long ago instilled an affinity for terror of both a terrestrial and cosmic sense in Eld Fen, and that affinity was ever-present in the vast catalog of literature he had acquired.

Unbeknownst to any of those around him, early in the days of his awakening he had wandered many parts of the world; appearing and disappearing into a vast multitude of ancient structures and caves older-still. During these travels, he had found many a journal or novel, and nearly each one brimmed with knowledge that would be best kept unknown. Books of these nature he kept on his person at all times, albeit in a smaller form than the one they knew naturally. It was also among those long-abandoned fortresses that he also found and collected furniture and other amenities, things that he could not will in to existence. These things all helped him greatly in creating suitable quarters for the ever-growing tribe he had aligned himself with.


And just like that, the void was given life.

The only two living beings within the space were them, of course, but it felt far more livelier than the vast emptiness. Homier. Clockwork took a few moments to admire the freshly-filled room around her, turning towards Eld Fen once she noticed that he had fully returned from his decorating.

"Excellent work as always, Fen. And of course." She didn't smile- her best approximation of one tended to come off as more of an odd, half-crooked grin that looked wrong on her face- but the praise was genuine. Brushing off the front of her shirt, Clockwork made her way to the pile of novels and gathered up an armful (although given her size, "an armful" was hardly impressive). She took a moment to adjust their weight in her arms before trotting over to the shelves, giving the books a quick glance over as she neatly tucked them away. Some titles she recognized through her own readings, others from her stolen memories, and a few were completely foreign to her. Liberty had provided its own share of reading material when she had resided there, but it had been a bit...lacking when it came to culture and imagination.

Clockwork stood up from where she had been crouching, then went and retrieved another armful. "I believe that I might write another list soon." She paused, hoisting a considerably thicker novel into place with a quiet grunt. "Of titles to read. Would you happen to have any further recommendations?" Eld seemed to know the horror genre like the back of his hand- even more so, perhaps. Some particularly interesting readings had come from his direction, and she saw little reason to forgo it for the time being.


Eld Fen's head nodded graciously at the compliment to his work, the structure they were standing in now. He continued to place the books on the multitude of shelves, and for every book he placed another seemed to appear in his arms. He heard the soft pattering of feet as the young girl joined him, and for a moment his mind was silent, and he smiled internally; but his visions stayed close to him oft' and the moment was only that, a moment. With another twitch of his head, he listened closely to the girl's words, being certain to separate them from the whispers of his tortured mind.

"Perhaps some poetry would be of use.." He mused softly, before producing an untitled book made of a dark, unidentifiable leather.

"From my Grandfather's own collection," He stated then paused, attempting to remember the title. "'Fungi from Yoggoth', if my mind still serves me. Written by a man I'm sure you've familiarity with, Howard Phillips Lovecraft. My Grandfather, Alistair, believed him to be very much of a mind like ours. Cursed, perhaps."

He sighed softly at the mention of his Grandfather, then quickly moved his thoughts to another topic, lest he be reminded of the terrible scene he had seen him in last. Changing his focus, he produced a few other novels, setting them on the edge of the book-shelves, then began reading their titles.

"The Twins by Aleister Crowley, Comus by John Milton, Avons Harvest by Edwin Arlington Robinson, and He said, taking a moment to pause and read the title of the last book before him, "Lucretius by Alfred Lord Tennyson." He concluded, before moving the small collection of books to the seat of the desk in the Library's center, which was uncrowded by books.

Turning back to the task of organizing his bookshelves, he began to ruminate aloud to Clockwork, something he often did while they were together.

"If man had a saving grace, it would surely be their devotion to the ideals of love."His whispering voice grated softly, followed by a slight twitch in his right hand which accompanied the momentary shaking of an empty shelf. "Even in tales of the greatest darkness a man could find, he'll whisper still to the purity and value of such romances as these. Perhaps beasts as I can not understand, or may my insanity obscure such, but these hopes I've never found replicable. I fear the same stands not for you, Child-Friend. He concluded, his wording becoming increasingly obscure, a telltale sign of whispers clouding his mind. With a soundless sigh, he took a step back from the now-filled shelf before him, his absent eyes evaluating it's order. Then, he moved to the next shelf, and began to fill it's empty slots.

Poetry wasn't something that Clockwork read often, preferring the length and stories novels more easily provided, but it was hardly something that she would turn up her nose at either. So she gave a nod in response, the ringlets that made up her hair bobbing slightly with the movement. "Thank you, Fen." She gave the leather-bound book a cursory look, although her focus shifted towards her companion at his sigh. The wistful sort of longing she had come to know quite well, herself. Staring at the man for a moment, Clockwork stepped forward, gave Eld's arm a gentle sort of pat, then returned to her work.

"I believe that love is one of the forces that drive man. My father has said that those same forces are what makes one human. I'm inclined to agree with him." She crouched, filling up another lower shelf before moving on. "'To be driven by something is to live'. Love, an ideal. Purpose." Soren held a certain tendency to lecture in front of his own children, advising as he baked or worked- even sitting them down, from time to time. Of course, Percival would typically crack a joke when the conversation got too sentimental for his tastes, but he listened nonetheless. They both did.

Clockwork glanced over her shoulder as Fen finished speaking, head cocked to the side as if she were listening for some distant tune. He waned between full clarity of speech to vaguer, more puzzling comments, hindered by the fog that had plagued him for so long, but his words often still remained of certain importance. "Perhaps," she said, eventually. "Perhaps not. Although I've found that hope tends to more easily bloom when it's most needed." Clockwork blinked. Something in her face moved- just a flicker, nothing substantial. Then she plucked up a few more books, standing on her toes as she pushed them into their proper place.

Eld Fen's head and form twitched occasionally, often accompanied by structural twitches as he attempted to discern the words of his companion from the words of his insanity, paying close attention to do so. In his focus, he paused from his task of shelving the novels in his arms, instead opting to rest them on a shelf as he reached up with a shaking hand to rub the location of where his temple once was; a habit he had long ago found to ease the burden of his own mind.

"Then is death to melancholy, Child-Friend, or undying alone?" He asked, grimacing physically at the deterioration of his own literacy, something that stood as a monolith to the semblance of sanity and humanity he retained.

"And what hope, but a prayer to credence, to perdition?" He asked, unsure of whether or not he hoped for a response. Had he been in the presence of any other member of their wandering kin, he would have ebbed his own pessimism; but the Child-Friend and he had discussed much heftier topics prior, and would witness things far worse than dark words in the future. He knew the girl could handle ideals of such nature, for at the very least, she could handle him.


The odd, stilted sort of syntax that Eld Fen had adopted did not go unnoticed by Clockwork. Nor did his nervous fidgeting, the sort of shakiness of someone steadily losing their grip. She slid the rest of her books into place before turning to stare at the man, as unreadable as ever. "Some might argue that feeling anything at all is a sign of living. In some sense, what constitutes that could simply be a matter of perspective." She straightened, fingers skimming lightly over the covers of one of the books Eld had laid out for her.

"Regardless. Even if hope might appear absurd, it provides motivation. Hope for change could be seen as why change is made at all." Clockwork went silent for a few moments, before once again approaching Eld and lightly tugging on his sleeve. Her eyes were glazed.

"Are you in need of a break, Fen? You appear quite troubled." The man was often troubled- Clockwork knew that well enough from the time spent with him- but there were periods where he became particularly overwhelmed. It was something unavoidable, but something that could, at the very least, be handled.

Eld Fen's swirling mask of flesh turned to face the small girl pulling his sleeve, and his mind began to untense, his form following shortly after. Letting out a low sigh, he lifted the stack of books, before noticing that the voices were quieting noticeably, and his speech became clear.

"No child, I'm fine." He whispered quietly, his voice seeming less harsh than normal, significantly so.

Then, he was aware of what was occurring, the voices were silencing themselves, and visions were not replacing them. The cycle had stopped, and he stood silently for a few moments, visibly inhaling and exhaling as he considered his next words, the madness momentarily absent from his mind. The feeling was near Euphoria to his tortured thoughts, and his disposition changing dramatically at the relief.

"Perhaps Clockwork, To live is to breath, and to breath is hope for another moment of life?" He asked, his voice becoming smoother, but still in a whisper. He could suddenly remember what drew him to poetry; it's romance of existence.

The moment of pure sanity was bliss, but a moment nonetheless, and he soon returned to his common nature. He did, however, appear to be much less burdened as he returned to stacking books.

Clockwork's ever-unyielding gaze lingered on Eld Fen for a moment longer, as if trying to read the mass of writhing flesh that made up his features. Then she released her grip on his sleeve, stepping back and giving a slight nod. "I see. Very well, then." She stepped away, the tension that had taken root in her shoulders easing somewhat. Clockwork's hands busied themselves with the chore of sorting and stacking once more, but she kept Eld Fen in the corner of her eye, watching him in his silence. The effect would have likely been incredibly off-putting to most- especially as her gaze didn't seem to be losing its unwavering, unblinking nature anytime soon.

"It would not be out of the question. Living for the sake of life. A self-perpetuating cycle."She gathered up another bundle, balancing them on her knee for a moment to adjust her grip before moving on. "However, life itself could be taken as whatever one chooses to make of it."

The weight of her comment was somewhat hampered as she stumbled a bit, having been standing on her toes in order to better reach a shelf.

Perhaps she would bring a stool with her next time.

---

A fair amount of time had passed since Eld Fen and Clockwork had finished organizing the vast expanse of Eld Fen's Library, and they had since found their way out of Eld Fen's Yellow Cabin. Now, they were merely walking to the place Eld Fen had originally collected Clockwork, with intent to return her. The walk was not particularly far, as the encampment was not a large one; something that wasn't entirely uncommon, given that his Cabin could provide ample living room.

"Do be sure to notify your Kin that the Cabin is ready for occupation, Child-Friend, I doubt many are fond of the dust and beasts prowling the grounds they sleep." He instructed absentmindedly; he was sure the girl would do such regardless of his prompt, but he chose to say such anyways.

"And should anyone need me, I will be in my Cabin; I've begun a new literary project, and will likely be writing in the Library. I expect Toby will join me at some point for some reading, which should be fine enough. Have you any plans for the rest of the evening, Child-Friend?" He asked as they approached the structure she and her family had been staying at for the time being.

The Cabin trip had left Clockwork in a rather pleasant mood, some of the dullness of her eyes clearing. In her arms was the rather hefty number of books that Eld had suggested, tucked carefully beneath her chin in an effort to strengthen her hold. Occasionally she would stop, clutching them tighter when one seemed about to fall, then quickly hurry back to the other's side. If Clockwork was bothered by the weight of it, no word of complaint left her lips.

"Of course," she replied. "I'm certain that the others will be glad to hear the news." Especially in light of...recent events. It was in times like these that the word of something positive would do wonders for the morale of the group. Clockwork turned to Eld at his mention of a new project, head tilted in question. "That sounds quite promising. Would you be willing to tell me about it when you have the time?" She paused. Adjusted her grip.

"I will likely continue in my reading, myself. Percival had mentioned the idea of giving me knife-training later today, as well." The fact that she had little in the ways of defense hadn't gone unnoticed by her brother. He had been trying to teach her the proper handling of a blade, although progress had been somewhat slow-going. Her fingers, freshly calloused and lined with scabs, showed evidence of such.

Upon reaching the house's yard, Clockwork stopped, turning fully towards Eld. "Thank you for the trip, Fen. It was very refreshing. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day." The sides of her lips quirked- not quite a smile, but still noticeable- and she spun on her heel, plodding on back to her family.

That was a lot of words for Hel.

What exactly no and yes were responding to Spire could only make an educated guess. He had gotten pretty adept at interpreting the quiet child's monosyllabic responses in terms of context. In order, it seemed to imply she meant "no Soren didn't give me breakfast" and "yes I came out here to snack on rats with the biological freak."

But that probably wasn't right.

Spire absentmindely set his hand on top of Hel's head, carefully working out a snarl in the red hair with gentle fingers. "Thanks, kid. Do you want to go back and finish? Anything else you need?"

Or maybe, Spire mused, "No," was in response to his flippant "you know what they say about speaking of the devil." But he wouldn't bother to explain that. Spire wasn't the devil. Green was the devil. Erubesco was the devil. And Hel was hesitant enough to talk about that without getting the notion that speaking of it might make it appear. He had learned almost as little from from Hel about what happened to her in the labs as he had cut out of Larke and Oren.

Larke and Oren, who if Rei was correct, were apparently getting fed. This struck Spire as slightly odd since he knew Montana's primary tactics involved deprivation and isolation, and he was pretty sure Oren could go a few more days without without dying on them. Unless...Montana had given up. Which...

Damn it. If the old man killed her after Spire had waited this long, Spire was going to rip his spine out. And then... demand an apology since the old bastard would be back on his feet a few minutes later.

Spire eyed Rei. "Safe to assume nobody asked him why. I think he might be procuring a snack for you next, Rei. Come on, kid."

He steered Helena around to leave the barn with some haste. Had to drop her off where she wanted to go before he headed downstairs. He wouldn't be intentionally giving her access to gritty gory scenes like that until she was at least, like... ten or eleven.

He really was trying to be a responsible guardian.

Capital Base, Liberty

His outfit exemplified ridiculousness on such a grand scale that Mayday had nearly lost his composure to a wave of resignation that threatened to wash his eyes into the back of his skull. The mission, and its importance, were what kept him from expressing his frustration with his clothes, and by extension Erubescian culture. To express dissatisfaction would be an insult to the time and effort Liberty had taken to set up this undertaking. Something Mayday did and would not take for granted.

Ultimately, it had been the mirror that nearly did him in; when he saw the man reflected outward.

Pants, two toned, one side of lavender strippers, the other, a crimson red whose design was heavy, haphazard strokes.

The fabric clung to his legs, floating up slightly right before his ankles, exposing the skin from there down. His shirt was untucked, but designed to be so. His buttons lay open to the stomach, where a lavender waistcoat held its place. Over it all was a sleeveless coat, reaching down to his thighs.

"Look at me." Mayday's voice was filled with disgust.

"Look at me." The second voice, foreign to the first was a sultry tone, brimming with the self satisfied confidence he imagined Erubescians to have. Lastly, he placed a rather obnoxious hat on his head, complete with large rainbow feather. One side of the hat was tacked up, no doubt to add an element of roguishness to the piece.

Mayday, through training, had learned to be outwardly comfortable in such clothing; to swing his hips and blend in with the bloated upper class of the Kings men.

Inwardly?

Nothing could stop the hatred.

Tight lipped, with his nose pointed skyward, Mayday left his room, locking his cold eyes onto each and every person who crossed his path. Even the slightest smile would be subject to strict retribution, brought to you by his icy disgust. Beretta had no doubt gotten dressed in her disguise before him. He had gotten dressed in the training room rather than their shared space, due to the meeting coinciding with the end of his daily regimen.

He crossed the hallways without snicker or incident. Which left him relatively clear minded for the task ahead.

An unexpected name called by one Agent Beretta left his eyes wide with shock. The sultry snapped out of his swinging hips instantly.

Sitting, in front of him, was a Councilor, specifically his councilor, the head of Liberty Espionage.

Mayday's face flushed immediately, his healthy skin turning a light pink ahead of a very hasty salute. His back was ruler straight, eyes set with purpose. All in all, he looked fairly ridiculous being so rigid in such an elaborate suit. "Councilor Laxton." he sounded breathless, just managing to get the words out. "Agent Mayday, reporting for duty."

He stood beside Beretta, failing to acknowledge her, and Kahn immediately.

As an afterthought.

"Agent Beretta, Agent Kahn." Perhaps if the Counselor wasn't sitting there, he would have offered Beretta something a few degrees warmer than his cold professionalism. Either way, he had little doubts that their progress today was going to be sharply scrutinized.

CAPITAL BASE, LIBERTY

Field Supervisor Canvas Fajaar usually had a pleasant demeanor, but he seemed extra cheerful today, his stride loose as he made his way to the briefing room. He entered dressed in character. A silver-gray tuxedo, black shirt, and a white tie that caught the crisp cool Liberty light in geometric bits of Erubescan shine. The Supervisor held a tablet with notes in one hand and a smooth glass bottle of a pinkish, crystal liquid labeled 'Se Détendre" in the other. It was already opened. And it looked only about 75% full.

Canvas could see that someone was already inside the room - silhouettes through the translucent white panel, so he began to speak before he even made it in.

"I see you beat me here. Good god, Mayday, you look preposterous. That's too much. You would stand out terribly...I take it back. I love it. Standing out is what everyone else tries to do. So you'd blend right in. Here then. Nearly forgot the best part of today's - ah - lesson." Mayday's ensemble had caught all of his attention at first, and so he froze momentarily upon noticing their slumping, less obtrusive guest: Heather.

Canvas set the bottle of Erubescan spirits on a table at the side of the room, in a row of similar bottles bearing labels like 'La Félicité and 'L'aigreur. He cleared his throat. His entire posture and expression changed as quickly as though he had put on a mask. Now, and only now, did he look remotely Libertian.

Sometimes he lost track of which version of himself was the mask. He knew which version he preferred.

"Councilor. I wasn't expecting you. To what do we owe the pleasure?" he asked with a nod in Heather's direction.

He wondered if she had noticed from the bottle that he'd gotten a head start on today's curriculum.

He wondered how severe a crime it would be to use his Gift for a little innocent redirection if she did.

He wondered if she even cared. Of all the councilors, she had to be the least stingy. Thank whatever gods may be.

He also gave a nod to the new Agent joining the mission. "Agent Khan, I presume? I've heard good things. I think you'll be a great asset to this mission."

...Mostly to somehow do something to help Beretta.

Canvas liked Beretta. He did. But she wasn't catching on. Khan's Gift would be useful, yes. His skills, too. But she was the real reason Riza was here.

...Not that Canvas intended to tell either of them this.

Snuffing out the remains of a cigarette in the soil, midas groaned, sitting on the hood of an old truck. In the distance he could see the smoke rising from his prior residence, and grumbled. Fuckin' raiders. Pulling one of the three canteens he nicked off his attackers, and took a swig. Some good 'shine.
Capping his drink, he stood, popping his joints as he prepared to move out. He turning, his attention fell on a neglected ranch, and he paused. Leaning back against he truck, he ran a hand across his jaw, and grumbled. He needed a place to recooperate. And he could still feel the broken ribs shifting. Shit...



Populated. But these people arent bearing a mark. Not raiders...what the hell are they doing here then? Must have plenty of supplies to have so many people. A comunity? Would have noticed them on his last pass through. Hmmm...
As Midas stepped onto the ranch grounds, he gave a glance around.there were kids here. Didnt look like a type lived here. Didnt look like they were to dug in either. Lighting up a cigarette, he took in a drag, and sighed. No buisness being discreet. Would only make them more weary...the forward approach seemed best here.
Wihout giving a glance for anyone outside, his foot rapidly banged on the front door of the main house.
"Oi! Lookin' for the boss around here. Lookin' to talk"

Toby sensed the foreign presence approaching for several minutes before the actual arrival...or...not entirely foreign, if he was not mistaken.

The Wanderers were a difficult group to sneak up on.

He set his book down and replaced it with the gun from the worn bedstand.

Dawn would pick it up soon, too, he knew, if she hadn't already. Dawn, he thought as loudly as one can think a thought. Based on her emotions, her location, and her current company, he guessed she had her hands full. We've got an energy manipulator and healer approaching. I'm guessing you noticed. He paused, gritting his teeth. He needed the distraction. I don't think he has hostile intent...for the moment. But we won't want him here. I've met him. I'll get it. You seem...busy.

Based on the rate of approach, he had a moment. So he pulled his shoes on. Laced them. Untucked the collar of his white shirt from his argyle sweatervest where it got rumpled from laying atop the covers reading. Made his way leisurely down the stairs whilst checking the clip of his handgun.

He peered out the window through gauzy curtains, and when he saw the man approaching the door, he waited.

Midas was scarcely finished with his knocking and his demand before Toby pulled open the door with one hand and pointed the gun at Midas' head with the other.

He wouldn't be granting the full request. The Wanderers had no boss.

"What do you want? I'm as much the boss as anyone else I could send to you and I think know a bit more about you than they would. So t--t--talk."

The confident, unintimidated tone he'd taken had gone pretty well until that stubborn T.

Last time Toby saw this man, he was desecrating corpses, only to be interrupted by a visit from the friendly neighborhood Grim Brothers. This was a sick individual. And that coming from someone with Spire as a brother.

Toby wasn't the same as last time. He wondered if Midas could see it.

Oren was ready to die.

Well, 'ready' was the wrong word.

She'd forsaken any other possibility.

That was, when she caught the knife being put away she felt almost.. cheated

Was all this, the girl showing up, the exchange, just some other trick to try and get something out of her?

Just then, Hat Guy pushed her head up, and Oren felt water splashing into her mouth. In previous days she might have spat said water directly into her tormenter's facr in a bitter act of rebellion. Now, she was too weak and sick and resigned to her fate to both with such a futile gesture. As the water hit her throat her stomach reacted with objection to the now unfamiliar sensation, and Oren coughed and gagged, splashing some of the water onto the floor.

She wish he'd finished it.

Drake gave a small smile in return as Dawn approached him.

“Glad to be back,” he replied, though her next statement made his breath catch and eyes go wide.

”A few weeks!?” the boy repeated, shocked.
It didn’t take a mind-reader to hear the stress in his voice, and understandably so. Normally he would only be out for a few days, but this was by far the longest he’d been underwater and it was completely unprecedented. There was so much he’d missed, so much life that had gone on without him, and it was hard for the winged boy to swallow. ”Jesus...”

At that moment, Mina had come in and gave Drake a bit of a start. He half turned to let her through, but instead found himself being thoroughly looked over by the doctor which caught him by surprise. Her questions received a bit of hesitation as he took a moment to adjust to what was happening.

”Uhh, just a headache, Mina. I’m alright-” he managed to get a few words in before she located her pen, giving him instructions to follow the light. He obediently did so, not because he felt it was necessary, but because he wanted this little checkup to be over sooner than later.

His eyes responded normally to the light(or at least as normally as cat-like reptile eyes could, anyway), but toward the end Mina would notice a spark of cyan blue flicker across both of them, indicating the return of his powers. And with this return came a flurry of new information. Drake took a moment to blink the spots out of his eyes before they seemed to glaze over briefly. There were a few new auras around, one of which Dawn was heading toward in a hurry, sparking some well-deserved suspicion. His eyebrows furrowed, however, as something else in particular caught his attention. Or rather, someone. An old friend of his, someone who had no business being here, was upstairs and - by the looks of it - distressed.

Focusing back on Mina, he reached to take her hands, grasping them in a gentle but firm manner to stop her from whatever test she was about to administor next.

”Mina, I know you just want to help. So can you do me a favor, and help me find my way up to the attic? There’s something I need to check out.”

He released his grip, letting his expression stress the importance of this task. At this point, Mina would likely piece together why Drake’s eyes were filled with such intense, sudden concern. But Drake, on the other hand, had no idea what awful activity he was about to walk in on.

Ranch House, Unknown Location

Mina was about to suggest an aspirin for Drake when Dawn took off in a hurry. A moment after, there was a knock on the door. Drake took hold of Mina's busy hands while she had slowed to better listen down the hall, and now– Well, it hardly took long for her to place the look of concern on his face. He said he wanted to go into attic.

When it rained, it certainly poured.

She pursed her lips, and her gaze wandered upwards. There was an elephant in the room, or perhaps more accurately, a songbird in the crawlspace, but there were times and ways to address such careful matters. "Drake," she said, tucking her pen back into a cargo pocket. She looked him in the eyes, this time looking for more than irregular pupil action. "I won't lie, alright? I'll promise that. There's been a... a situation that came about while you were down. But I don't think now's a good time to just run up without information, okay? I know he's-"

Mina swallowed.

"He's not a bad man. But... I don't think that's a good idea just now. You've missed a lot, and I'm gonna need you to hear me out before you go acting all brash."

Ranch, Basement

A few droplets of water had landed on Montana's shoes, dousing their polished sheen with a mixture of water, and spittle. It was all liquid, and the distinction made no difference as he knelt to wipe his shoes. "The water and food will remain with you, should you muster the strength." He bound her hands in front of her, and left the plate, now flanked by the flask, within her reach.

He turned away from Oren, fixing his voids on Dawn. "In a time long passed, I'd have considered a variable like this unacceptable." He walked toward the door, and the stairway above. He paused when he was beside her. "One could suppose that altruism is still alive in the ash." He patted Dawn's shoulder, allowing his murderous intent to dissipate into the deep pool of his conscious mind.

Dawn's interference marked an end to Montana's torture regimen, because she had ascribed Oren importance beyond her usefulness for intelligence, and beyond her life being ended to avoid their location being returned to the Erubescian military. Thus, in Montana's mind, further torture would be fruitless.

Drake had heard the knock at the door, but he wasn’t concerned with it or the unfamiliar aura behind it. Besides, someone else was already addressing the situation. No, his attention was focused on the girl in front of him. "Brash" had been a mildly offending choice of words, but he would not comment any further on it. His eyes had narrowed, not in anger, but in cold distaste to the response he’d been given. It wasn’t hard to figure out there was something negative going on, a topic that was hard for people to talk about. He wanted to give her the time of day to explain what was happening, but the distressed aura upstairs screamed at him and he couldn’t simply dismiss it or delay it any longer.

He took a deep breath and exhaled before speaking in a calm, firm voice.
”Mina,” he started, pausing to choose his next words carefully, “I don’t know what happened while I was out, but the person upstairs is a very good friend of mine and he’s not having a good time from what I can tell. What you’re telling me is only confirming that further. So here’s the deal. I’m gonna go up there and I’m going to assess the situation and see if I can help. Once I do that, then you can clue me in to what the hell is going on.”

”I know I’ve been out for a while, so I would hope there’s a damn good explanation for whatever went down. That said, I want to go check on my friend, if that's alright. Not stand around here wasting any more time. So, please... I could use your assistance.”

Drake was as stubborn as always, and as such, it was clear he wasn’t going to change his mind any time soon. If Mina didn’t help him navigate his way upstairs, he would simply find the attic himself.

Koto

He stumbles yet again before picking himself and running faster.

Every dead tree in this god-forsaken excuse for a woods bears a face twisted in anger. The light bends as the twilit dusk threatens to leave him blind, and the sound of his pursuer never fades. Step by step, the sounds of twigs snapping never ends, never speeds up, as if they were walking towards him. Still yet, it only grows louder and louder, but every time he looks back, all he sees is an empty woods. He runs endlessly, already out of breath for a while now, but he can't stop. Stopping would mean certain death, or worse. The sounds of its approach suddenly speeds up, little by little. His terrified running becomes a desperate sprint, ignoring the pain in his chest that results. Even so, the sounds of its impossibly fast approach grow ever louder, deafening, and then continues to grow. He can't look back now, or he's sure he'll be caught. Even when pushing himself to run so fast, the sound of the footsteps feel like they're right behind him. They stay there for a moment, and then he feels a warm breath clearly on the nape of his neck, making his hairs stand on end. That's when he falls, tripping yet again, but unable to pick himself up and continue, light-headed and gasping for air. The sound is gone. The sun has almost completely set. The feeling of being watched never escapes him, but he has this moment at least, to breathe. A few seconds later, out of the corner of his vision, a flash of red darts behind a tree, accompanied by the sound of muffled indistinct whispers. He stands up, wincing at the pain of his overexertion and the sound of a slow pursuit picks up again. Not from the flash of red, but from directly behind him. Despite the sharp, ripping pain in his chest, he gets up and starts running yet again. Everything plays on repeat, but the exhaustion is twice as great for him. The whispers join the footsteps in a collective crescendo, becoming so loud as to hurt his ears. His feet become numb from smashing the ground so fervently. He had heard rumors of the inhumanity of his assassin, a visceral monster straight out of lovecraftian nightmares, so stained in blood that it's all his victims see. Even so, he never imagined they would be this inhuman.

Nonetheless, running is just what it wants. Clearly it can't be escaped, so it's just weakening him before going in for the kill... and it's been working.

As the whispers start giving him headaches and the sound of footsteps are right behind him again, he twirls around, only for all to stop, dead silent. Not even the wind can be heard. He looks around anxiously, scanning a full 360 degrees around him, but finds nothing but dead trees.

That's when a searing pain cuts through the nape of his neck.

He falls to the ground and turns around. He looks at it- he looks at you, but all he sees is an anatomically impossible smile. You bring the knife down on one of his arms and step on the other, pushing all your weight down on it. He struggles against your foot before you pull out another knife and push it through his wrist, pinning it as deep as you can into the ground.

You pull out a gun and use it to shoot his ankles, leaving him completely and totally at your mercy. Now comes the fun part. You retrieve your tool box and cooler from your buggy nearby and begin getting to work. After all, it's a pretty big waste to just cut into some of the more valuable parts. You begin humming a mellow tune as the sound of screams fill these deadened woods.

The perfectly relaxing evening.

The barrel of a gun is...actually a rather comfortable thing to see. These people are smart. Maybe this can work. Midas barely gives the gun a second glance, letting his eyes travel to its weilder. Afew years older than him, but cant be by much. He lets his eyes travel downward, examining the man from head to toe. Taking a long drag on his cigarette, before pulling it from his lips with blood coated fingers, letting the scent of smoke fill the doorway.

"Im not dead, so obviously you are a thinkin' group. Good. Be surprised how many stupid bandits get slaughtered cuz' they didnt think." He sighs, tapping the ashes away with the flick of his thumb, before snuffing the butt out on the guns barrel.

"Your Fucking with the wrong ashlander if your trying to intimidate. Especially with that eh...stutter you got there.If i wanted trouble, you'd already have it. So lets be blunt. Im tired, im sore, and im sick of dealing with cocky ass raiders trying to get an easy kill. So im gonna sit off on the other side of the path there" he points directly across from the house, in plain view of, well, everything" and im gonna let myself heal. Put a gun on me if you really need to, I dont care. I just wanna ask, do you have any water? I need to get this shit off my hands..."

Rei hated being around Spire. Hated it especially when someone like Toby or Mina wasn't around to act as a buffer. Out here there was really not enough people for him to share out his nastiness between.

She was rather relieved when the devil-child took the psycho's hand and he started to lead her away back toward the house and the kitchen. Meant she would know where they were for the next half hour or so so she could avoid it.

What she could not avoid however, was catching sight of the scene taking place by the door, and the stranger there. Toby was pointing a gun at him, so he had to be a stranger.

Rei did not appreciate his tone. She gritted her teeth, canines digging into the inside wall of her mouth very slightly. She took off at a job towards the farm house, that turned into a run, before making a lemur-like spring into the house, up the wall and over onto the roof top with digits that now spread out like those of a gecko.

She made her way over to the door where this was taking place, jumped over, and perched on the eves like a gargoyle, pupils contracted to black slits by the morning sun.
"I think the words you're looking for is 'please let me stay here'." she stated, narrowing her eyes.
"And less of the attitude would probably help your case there."

In many ways, Rei was a pushover.
She had a very low level of expectations when it came to her own treatment. She didn't complain too much if she got an arm ripped off or Hel made her eat bits of tractor engine for fun.

She did however start to bristle when people started trying to cause trouble for her group.
And this guy had trouble written through him like a stick of Brighton Rock.

@VitoftheVoid



The moment Aran seated himself, the meeting had begun, there were quite a few people here he was familiar with. First of all, the star of Erubesco, the poster child of the nation, none other than Korra Norrevinter herself, he wondered why someone like her was present for the meeting, she wasn't the brightest mind one could find around here, maybe he would use his gift on her, find out a bit more about her past and see what secrets she held.

However, his sights once again moved along the people in this meeting and saw quite a few people he only seen by sight, but never truly heard anything about, most of the time, because he did not care about them that much, but now that they were present here, his interest in them was certainly piqued now that they were present here. However, as his sight wandered around the table, his sight fell not on one of the people at the table, but the one arranging the food and offering the service talk, a young girl covered in scars, stitches and bandages all over the place, for a moment, she seemed familiar and he soon realized why. After some of his least successful experiments died when trying to insert an extra gift in them, their minds were blown... all over the floor most of the time and this girl was the one cleaning said mind off the floors.

"No problem, young girl, I myself have just arrived, no need to apologize!" Aran smiled at the girl and placed his hand on her shoulder, as a way to make her feel a bit better about herself, he had to maintain his reputation within the facility as a compassionate man. However, the moment he touched her, his gift activated and he attempted to peer into the girl's mind, to see what she was all about, her history, why she was being experimented on and by whom, these were all questions floating around his mind and he hoped that she would not try to resist, or he would not be able to find out anything about her and he could exactly force her on this... especially here and this moment.

After a few seconds, giving up no other emotions, Aran removed his hand from the girl's shoulder and smiled towards Commander Madison, raising his hand before she would start to speak.

"Ah, I'm sorry for interrupting, mister Madison, but I need to make a quick request here." he said rising from his seat, towering above everyone else. "As a few people here know, my currently assigned mission is to create artificial gifts and attempt to find a way to place them within another person with a gift already. Essentially, what I'm currently trying to do is to attempt to create people that are able to use more than one gift, super soldiers, if you will." he said, his expression turning completely serious as he stated explaining his mission now... and his grievances.

"As you can all imagine, it is taxing enough on the mind already to handle one gift, more than one would result on the brain of the victim to essentially overload and short circuit something which results in their death. However, I've found whilst testing that particularly mentally gifted characters are able to take that second gift without their brain simply stopping to function altogether, even though they often went insane from the process which in itself means it is a failure, but that only served to help me get closer to my assigned mission." He smiled all the time he explained the process and though he imagined that people would either be bored by this, or slightly terrified by the fact, he was proud by what he was doing.

"However, in the past few months I've been supplied only with low quality individuals, like captured enemy grunts, low quality serfs... no offense, my lady." he said, looking at Caddie for a moment before turning towards the two Commanders. "When I started these experiments, I was supplied with both low quality individuals and individuals who would actually help my task progress, but now, the best thing I can look up to in my experiments is their brains simply overloading and dying. The worst thing about it, is their damn heads exploding and making a mess!" he says, looking quite annoyed by what he was speaking about. "I know it isn't that easy to get smart people to be my experiments, we need those bright minds to help us advance, but what I am basically doing here is executing people and I did not become an Alchemist to kill people, so if you would please take this into consideration and bring me proper subject... it would really help me advance my experiments."

With that, he looked around at everyone and their expressions before bowing at the two present Knight Commanders. "Thank you for listening to my selfish grievances, you may proceed, Mr. Madison."

And with that, Aran seated himself once more, he sort of expected a negative answer to his grievance, but nonetheless it did feel good to take this matter off his chest and did the best he could not smile from the relief he felt from having done this.