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[color=D9DFD0][b][Location][/b] Landow, Estren
[b][Time][/b] Sunday, 06:30 AM
[b][Mentions][/b] [@rabidbacon] & [@Silly]
 
 
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Ahead was the shrine of his own Dominant, where the cold beauty of Ultima was carved into curving stone. Before it, an altar. While many had gathered in the surrounding area to witness Cassiel’s arrival, there were two women who stood, seemingly engaged in conversation, who did not rush to greet him. One wore purple; he did not recognise her. The other — a familiar face, but one he hadn’t seen in a while. He approached, his footfalls echoing softly along cobbled path, with the adoring onlookers [i]encouraged[/i] by security to keep their distance after the prior incident. 

[color=d0bb7d]“Aethalos. I wasn’t sure if I would see you again.”[/color]

He spoke in a calm, neutral tone; body language distant and unrevealing. He still held an air of respect about him in the presence of his old tutor, but he was well aware of her antagonism towards his nation. She had proven herself an enemy of Cetra — which, by all accounts, meant that she should be an enemy of [i]Cassiel[/i]. He didn’t quite feel that way, in truth. He still felt lingering kinship there, but was careful not to show it, lest he seem disloyal to the cause. Though the thought had crossed his mind that Aethalos might’ve had hidden motives during her service to Cetra, he found her to be generally trustworthy, and had mostly abandoned his suspicions; after all, it didn’t take much to make an enemy of Cetra, and he cared little about the political nuances that were often at play in his nation’s many conflicts.

Cassiel had suffered many belligerent mentors. It was said that the strongest metal would withstand the harshest flame, and the same philosophy could be applied to Cetrite teaching methods. To be an idol — to be [i]perfect[/i] — was to be be beaten down so many times, to fail and be scorned over and over, until eventually there was nothing left to be corrected. This was the gauntlet that Cassiel had passed through in his adolescence; the process of changing a boy named Amon into a [i]god[/i] named Cassiel. He held a great deal of resentment for many of his teachers; those who had destroyed his self-confidence, and scolded his imperfections. Aethalos was one who he had no hatred for. Perhaps it was a foolish thought, but in Cassiel’s mind, they had been something like [i]friends[/i]. She had helped to teach him how to fight; they would train with rudimentary practice blades, or she would train him through rigorous physical challenges. For so many years, she had been [i]so much stronger than him[/i]. As he grew into a man, the gap closed, and a spirited rivalry had formed; they shared banter with one another, pushed each other to be better. He missed those days. They were uncomplicated.

[color=4f96d2]“Cassiel,”[/color] she replied, before pausing. She seemed unsure how to regard him; her instincts demanded a salute, or a bow of the head, but neither came, glancing over at one of the Votaran guards assigned to her detail. [color=4f96d2]“Fate is… strange,”[/color] she continued, scanning him as if to gauge sincerity — trying to read if his restraint was another part of the veneer. Sensing a measure of sincerity, she allowed herself to relax somewhat, feeling around in her jacket, as if looking for something, before remembering she had already given the flask away.

He looked back at her, sensing her uncertainty. It was strange and uncomfortable, but it was to be expected. After all, this was their first meeting since her [i]unceremonious[/i] departure from Cetra. Indeed, fate [i]was[/i] strange. Aethalos was no one of great importance when he had first met her, but now she was [i]Regalia[/i]. The same had happened once before, with Anima’s Regalia. It was curious indeed, but surely just eerie coincidence.

[color=4f96d2]“Did they have you sign a document?,”[/color] she asked bluntly. [color=4f96d2]“They had me sign it. I did.”[/color] 

He saw a wariness in her eyes — perhaps even a [i]fear[/i]. She spoke to him not as Cassiel, her student and sparring partner; but as Cassiel, the poster-child of Cetra. He wasn’t sure of the particulars of how her allegiances came to be severed with his country, but clearly they had embittered her to not only Cetra, but any who represented it. He felt a twinge of annoyance, but buried it. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself, here was not the place; now was not the time.

[color=d0bb7d]“I’m not one to shirk rules,”[/color] he lied, nonchalant. [color=d0bb7d]“Maybe we can talk later, privately. Who’s your friend?”[/color]

Seeking to bypass the irritation he felt for his interaction with Aethalos, he studied the other woman; and more focally, the item she had brought with her. Upon the altar, an unusual offering had been proffered: a dark amethyst — certainly a non-traditional offering to the Lady of Light. [i]Did Cassiel really care about tradition?[/i] Not particularly. [i]Did this unusual tribute demand his attention?[/i] Absolutely. He was the one to restore order, to ensure Ultima’s will was enacted most efficiently. Any discretions upon Her name were his responsibility to address. Secondly, it was worth considering that this amethyst, in its contrast to the otherwise [i]lustrous[/i] aspect of the shrine, was a statement of some kind — a theological question posited to Cassiel — a challenge meant to test him. Of course, while these kinds of thoughts oft rushed through Cassiel’s mind, they were rarely rational. He saw manipulations and machinations in the actions of every stranger he came across, searching for sinister intent. A form of projection, indeed, but also a survival mechanism. He’d been burned before, more than once, by sycophants and parasites; it was wise to assume any and every individual he met had some kind of ulterior motive, and, to some degree, to have one himself.

[color=d0bb7d]“An unorthodox choice for an offering to Her Radiance,”[/color] he said calmly, though his eyes held an intensity. [color=d0bb7d]“It does not reflect Her light.”[/color]

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[img]https://i.imgur.com/3SzWaaU.png[/img]
[color=808080][sup][Cassiel & Aethalos in training.][/sup][/color][/center][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]