The Pertinence of Respect. [Open]

[vasanti]

Danae had already been brought up to speed on everything, not that she needed much ‘brought up’ to be done, since she had studied the likes of her current fixation all on her own in stories since childhood and historical texts especially once becoming a Peacekeeper.

’Omens’, they called them, or at least that’s what they associated them with. Hardly anyone spoke their names for certain that instant taboo and curse should come upon them. The fact that they hadn’t been seen in decades had brought a sort of unsteady calm; but somehow, Danae thought, everyone must have known they would return at some point. Like ants to a picnic or rats on a sinking ship, ‘they’ harbored the calm before the storm.

Danae’s focused eyes studied the small envelope that had been handed to her, sealed, back in Ignatz during her visit to Edward. She assumed that, by the seal, this target must be important and might have come from the very likes of Odin Haze himself, but she could have never prepared herself for the surprise she would get when she had opened the envelope and realized who she was to track.

Apparently her mark would be attending the funeral of some well-known magistrate, some old, nameless guy who remained of no importance to Danae but who must have meant something to the one attending the funeral. Her eyes next studied the polished image of the woman she watched for in the small gathering of mourners and then she scouted for the woman; Codename: Scholar.

But she knew what really to address her as.

[Theory of Annihilation]

It hadn't been too hard to blend in with the rest of the apostles as they ventured up the muddy, worn trail in single file. They wore cloaks of scarlet and obsidian, their gait slow but steady, with heads bowed--;

sojourned, woeful.

She had fallen in with the rest of them half a mile after the stream, emerging silently from a cluster of gnarled trees at the very end of the line. The others mourned their loss, while she was more preoccupied with wondering if all of this effort was worth it. In the end, Aliah would never know she ever came to see him off. There were no such thing as souls, and if there were, they most certainly wouldn't hang around here. No; there was nothing in that marble casket except a rotting carcass. In only a few more days he'd be a feast for the insects. Beneath her hood, she smirked bitterly. Cynicism at a funeral; it seemed to fit well enough.

But, just the same, she was in the area. More accurately, she had stopped in to see him, only to find that he had died three days prior. One of the priestesses said he poisoned himself. She supposed that was one way to deal with a terminal illness. The clever fool.

Now they stood in a semi-circle around the burial ground. The newly appointed Magistrate said his prayers, and the others bowed their heads in condolence. She imitated them, though instead of closing her eyes, she continued to stare at the casket. Alas, another old friend and contact she would have to cross off her dwindling list.

[vasanti]

She probably should have felt cursed or marked herself, since she was standing in the presence of a Scholar, and should have probably whispered a Gaian blessing or prayer here and there with a couple steps in between just to ward off any negativity the woman may have been emitting. But a funeral seemed neutral enough for something such as the Scholar to not intend on the bringing of an event to these hallowed grounds.

However, the best intentions brought with them the worst outcomes at times, as ones that came before her could stake claim to.

The cluster of trees that she watched from set on a hill above the burial site kept her just out of view from the semi-circle around the casket, and the Peacekeeper inhaled the decayed, yet clean and moist air of the morning. The fact that none of the others had noticed the arrival of the woman who had fallen in so nonchalantly with the precession earlier, smoothed over any doubts she had of joining the gathering herself when she deemed it suitable to do so, and she raised her own scarlet and obsidian hood that matched the hoods and cloaks the others wore.

What, you didn’t think Danae would show up on a mission unprepared with the expected attire? She had studied this event thoroughly.

The funeral had an even newer addition, one that decided to show up a tad late, and one who set herself at as opposite from the Scholar as she could without being obvious. She lowered her head and gave a sigh of bereavement, wringing her hands together in front of her in grief. But sharp, un-grieving eyes watched the hooded woman through her own hooded lashes and as prayers began, a light rain began to fall.

[Theory of Annihilation]

Her thoughts were interrupted by idle movement in her peripherals. She casually turned her head to watch a new addition join the group, taking only a moment to inspect the apostle before dismissing them as a rude, but simple ornament to the scenery.

Rain.

She frowned, folding her arms across her chest. Now she'd have to travel back to town in a damp cloak. Though, she couldn't deny the not-so-drastic change in weather only added to the melancholy. The Magister continued his native chant, the others basked in their gloom, and her breath emitted from her lips in billowing clouds as the air began to chill. For Aliah's reputation, there weren't as many as she expected. This was a little disheartening, to say the least. He had been a good man, and she had obliged him many times simply because of this fact. Though most would never know, Terrenus had just lost something very special. Perhaps the rain was indication that, despite lack of supernatural activity, an unseen force somehow knew this. This wasn't an impossible notion, given what she was, anyway.

She held a hand out slightly from her waist, palm facing up. Each droplet left a tingling sensation against her skin, numbing the surface of her fingertips for only a brief moment. She admired her ability to feel sad; to understand that she'd miss Aliah comforted her. After all, to be complacent was to be nothing.

And she was definitely something. This something, however, has yet to be defined. At least by her.

Perhaps this journey had been to only find self-satisfaction. That seemed a little selfish, and she frowned with that thought. It was time to leave before the guilt crept in.

And so, she did just that; abruptly turning and descending the hill from which she came, the robe that was blatantly too large for her trailing behind her feet, making it appear as if she were almost floating. Perhaps she'd find a place to eat, and then be on her way. She could sense some from the group turn and watch her leave, at first in curiosity, then in irritation. Though they couldn't see it, their disapproving scowls were met with a chiseled smile.

You can't please everyone.

[vasanti]

Being an attendee to this funeral was boring to say the least. The Peacekeeper respected the motions of the ceremony and rituals, and blah, blah, blah-but as if the show could go any slower or longer, now they were chanting natively!?

The nameless-unknown-decrepit-unimportant man in the casket would remain all those things, including dead, even after these things were done. All that was left for the magistrate was a peaceful, dark sleep six feet below and time six feet above him would continue to carry on as if the man had never existed; in due time. But Danae wasn’t really this uncaring; she just didn’t care for these events. When she died, she wished to just be hurled into the ocean off a cliff and given an impromptu aquatic burial ceremony. The end.

Planning her own funeral would have to wait, for the Scholar turned and began to leave the site and the Peacekeeper must follow. With a sniffle and a mournful wipe of her impeccably dry eyes, Danae departed from the gathering as well and set off in pursuit of the woman she followed here, keeping a distance at first that would seem respectable and believable, but closing ranks as they went. In her studies, she knew these things had a tendency of disappearing at will and she assumed that was how the woman came to be at those gnarled trees to begin with.

Though the rain began to fall harder and with less patience for the remaining mourners that had been left behind, Danae continued after the Scholar and remained dry beneath her cloak as she came upon her flank.

“Do you always smile at the grave site of a dead magistrate?” Oh yes, she had seen.

[Theory of Annihilation]

It took only a minute to know someone was following her.

At first she had been preoccupied with thoughts of what she might do before leaving Terrenus altogether, wondering if they still made that peppermint-tasting lager at the Inn she stayed at fifty years prior. Aliah had only been in his twenties then, still rebellious and unwilling to be the leader his father desired for him. She had only seen him one more time after that when agreeing to advise his Council on matters regarding the civil war. Her kind never physically got involved, of course. But she offered aid as passively as she could.

And then in a moment absent of thought, she felt a slight vibration, which hummed gently within her ears. The sound of light footsteps. Less curious than irritated, she rolled her eyes even before the lesser mustered up enough courage to make her presence known:

"Do you always smile at the grave site of a dead magistrate?"

How cute; I've been spied on.

There were very few reasons as to why someone would be interested enough to pursue her. She frowned at this conclusion, wondering when everyone who had ever heard of them would finally die off so she could roam free, or at least walk through the mud and rain in fucking peace. But she wasn't a spiteful creature. This lesser was driven by intrigue and not malice, so she'd entertain the little thing. At least until she got to town and could shake her off somewhere in the crowd. Her eyes slid to the girl that was no more an apostle than she.

"Only the ones I like. However, I'm going to assume that attending the funerals of magistrates you don't know isn't typically an avid hobby of yours."

[vasanti]

By that point, she had equaled her pace with the Scholar and kept up, her hooded eyes staring ahead through the downpour that had ensued. By now, the mourners that had tried to stay behind and pay their final respects to the magistrate were fleeing the scene as well and trying to get out of the area as fast as possible.

It was kind of sad, really, all it took was a little rain to scatter even the ones who figured they had enough heart to stick it out to the end. Didn’t say much for the magistrate, in Danae’s opinion, but then again the magistrate still remained a nameless unknown to her. But enough about that.

“You assume correctly, Violet Queen.” She wouldn’t touch on the fact that she had addressed her by something different than that which had been delivered to her on paper. Instead, she kept her arms at her side as she trekked through the soggy weather alongside the Scholar.

“So an old, dead friend brings you here? I’m surprised there are any left still,”

She paused for good measure and smiled to herself.

“Or was that the last?”

[Theory of Annihilation]

She wouldn't let the mortal know the name by which she'd been addressed caught her off guard. And as the little thing continued to spew her pseudo-wit, her expression remained stoic, unaffected. They were bred with gall these days; that was for sure.

"Or was that the last?"

It was probably her last, but friends weren't exactly a commodity. Not with her; with what she was. Mortal friends were about as useful as currency after an apocalypse. But not Aliah; she had respected him. He wasn't really a friend, more a person that was deserving of her trust. Very few Lessers ever reached that level with her. But this girl seemed narcissistic; arrogant in her own naivety. She referred to Aliah as nothing, so not only was she ignorant of true virtue and decency, she was undeserving of being told otherwise.

By now the watch towers of Caellen were visible through the forest trees. The mourning fires could be seen against the darkening skies as dusk approached. Despite the effort, she imagined the streets filled with drunken magistrates, using the passing of a head apostle as an excuse to indulge. Considering she was intending to do the very same thing, more or less, she decided against being a hypocrite.

At first, she only responded with a subtle, irritated sigh. Looking up at the mortal, an impatient frown thinned her lips. Her eyes gleamed through the shadows of the hood. "Is there something you want? Currently, the only thing you're achieving is the potential of having your head flung from your shoulders."

[vasanti]

The Scholar had remained silent for a good while as they walked, but in time the vast green waves of the soaked hills gave way to the coming of a town up ahead on the horizon, just lingering out of reach. The mourning fires were seen in fact, and the thick, black smoke they produced gave way to the open skies as the rains subdued themselves.

If Danae believed in some of the stories she had read during growing up, she might be inclined to think that the skies had beckoned the clouds to cease their crying so that the people in the world of the dead magistrate might properly carry on with their mourning and celebration of life.

But the Peacekeeper wasn’t sure what she believed in, and so she left it at that.

"Is there something you want? Currently, the only thing you're achieving is the potential of having your head flung from your shoulders."

Finally, the Scholar spoke. Here, she had begun to think she was losing the woman’s interest, and yet there it was, clear as day and bitter with disdain and threat.

“Ah, I wouldn’t make such threats here, Violet Queen.” She enjoyed addressing the Scholar as such, something far different than what any other Peacekeeper would address her as, and probably something far different than anyone or anything had addressed her as in a while. While the Scholar’s expression remained stoic, the Peacekeeper assumed she had not expected such a title to be spoken.

“At least not while you’re in Terrenus, or probably anywhere on Valucre for that matter. But especially not here in Terrenus.” Danae glanced to the woman from the corners of her eyes and from under her own hood and if the Scholar looked close enough she might have spotted a tiny smile; and not one of sarcasm or conceit.

[Zenith]

From behind them, the clouds would seem to be stalking the two precious women. It's unnatural gray hues fanning across the epic horizons from right to left without warning, casting all that might have been considered light, away. The darkening grew from the belly and spread outwards, threatening the rains to come, however the man that followed them didn't allow it. He honestly didn't feel like getting wet right now. Instead he moved with the most breathless of steps, his eyes watching the two women from a hand's reach away, as if he was always apart of their group and when the tension arose another notch in the belt, he spoke.

Like liquid harmony, Kalenis' voice spread across the area in a subtle whisper, as not to startle them, but as a means of ending the conflict in a manner of simple resolve. His lips pursed, thin and pale and a handsome smile pulled across the gaunt face, "Come now -- respecting the dead shouldn't come with infantile verbal blows to one another. Should it ... Violet Queen -- is it now?" Kalenis would chuckle lightly, however his questioning this new title would most undoubtedly get him an unnerving glare, but it was out of his own silent amusement he said such.

"And you, young thing -- should be wiser than to upset such an ill-tempered immortal. Curious, your unnatural bravery. Or stupidity, however it needs to be played -- it's fascinating."

His gait would match theirs in time and fluidity, allowing a graceful silent presence to be added without disrupting the chi of the moment. His black suit seemed to meld with the shadows behind him, however the crimson tie stood out brilliantly against his slender chest -- the tie pin being his Raven's Brand insignia.

[Theory of Annihilation]

“At least not while you’re in Terrenus, or probably anywhere on Valucre for that matter. But---"

Blah, blah, blah.

She had graced the mortal with only an idle glance during the beginning of her cryptic advisory, but already her stare returned ahead. This creature was trying too hard. She wondered why every mortal that ever had (or at least thought they had) any idea about her kind tried so hard to put on some kind of show. Was this supposed to intrigue her? Philosophy intrigued her; while this only made the alleged Violet Queen clench her jaw in vexation. After the mortal's grand monologue, followed by that cute little smile, she merely said, flatly:

"You didn't answer my question." Her tone was devoid of any emotion. If the girl thought her words brought provocation, then she'd surely be disappointed.

And then Kalenis arrived. Splendid.

At first she diverted his stare, rolling her eyes at his snide remark. Only when he said:

"And you, young thing -- should be wiser than to upset such an ill-tempered immortal. Curious, your unnatural bravery. Or stupidity, however it needs to be played -- it's fascinating"

--did she finally look to him with an expression resembling annoyance. She stopped walking, and instead folded her arms across her chest. Though no one could see, her foot tapped impetuously beneath the apostle robes. Finally, she pulled back her hood, a fountain of ebony hair spilling from her shoulders.

"Leave the mortal alone. She can't help her simplicity," she hissed. "You were supposed to be here hours ago. You missed Aliah's ceremony." Finally, her attention drifted to his attire. She lofted a brow. "Have you recently joined some kind of mafia?" The mortal wouldn't understand, but that was alright; Kalenis most certainly would.

[.incorruptible.]

A swollen thumb on a petite hand; he stuck out, his appearance being as loud as it was. Stark white hair clashed against the knee length crimson garment that served as a coat for him, as well as the sable scarf that typically seemed to be floating on some sort of invisible wind -- whether it was truly there or not, who could say. But today, right now, Flynn's scarf did nothing of the sort. The torrential downpour saw to that, dampening the material beyond it's normal carefree weightlessness. Being that he stood out with such a...disruptive appearance, the Bounty-Hunter, turned Demon-Hunter, turned I'll-Hunt-Anything-You-Want, watched the final lament for the Magistrate from over fourscore meters away. A distance at which, he could comfortably watch the proceedings and all at once, ensure he didn't disturb them.

Rain didn't bother him; while the final rites were broken up by those fleeing fat raindrops, Flynn observed complacently. Only when the man -- or rather, the lifeless corpse the man had once inhabited; was lowered into the ground did he stir, abandoning his stone perch. The dry spot left by his posterior's occupancy quickly disappeared and the tombstone was soon drenched like all it's kindred. Brushing away whatever minuscule debris residing there, Flynn peered down at the marker with a wry, "Sorry. But thanks." Leather creaked as he strode off, laced boots treading a surefooted path between a variety of headstones and mausoleum entrances until he freed himself from the grave site's reach.

The descent toward the sprawling village the Magistrate once served was interrupted with the sight of three figures standing ahead of him. Steadily he grew closer until a mere few feet's distance hovered between him, and them. Drenched, rivulets of water poured from the snow-capped crown, every single lock of hair framing his visage was plastered to his face. One might get the feeling that he simply cared not.

"Ah...excuse the interruption but I have a question." Though tall and extremely broad shouldered, Flynn's voice bordered on melodic -- not at all fitting for for his statue; but it was friendly, and that helped. "Might any of you be able to guide me to the former Magistrate's place of residence?" Questioningly, a frank gaze shifted from one woman to the other, then to the man. Underneath the complacency, a hint of recognition bubbled up at the sight of one particular face but that hint would not be expressed. "If not, the current Magistrate's office would be a suitable replacement."

[vasanti]

And just like that- a third had arrived to their party.

Another one?

Great.

At least she assumed the new arrival to be another creature like the Scholar. Perhaps she would even refer to this one as Scholar, since she had done no previous researching on him as she had done on the woman before taking this mission. Danae had turned on her heel when the Scholar female had stopped and done so, it was quite obvious the two knew one another, and Danae hadn’t been caught very off guard by the man’s appearance from thin air- at least not so off guard that she would visibly show it to anyone.

At first she had been looking at the male Scholar from the corner of her eye, but now that she faced him in full, she narrowed her hooded gaze at him. The Peacekeeper didn’t pay much attention to his current rambling as it meant little to nothing to her. The Violet Queen had been nothing but welcoming since the Peacekeeper had arrived-haha, yeah right-and she was continuing to do so now; the proof was in the pudding, or whatever concoction they were making by being here.

Danae observed the duo’s conversation about the magistrate’s funeral-Aliah was it now?-like a bored child, and didn’t pay notice to the Violet Queen’s attempt at passive aggressive offense. As a matter of fact, Danae almost chuckled aloud at the mention of a ‘mafia’- and the question from the female Scholar as to whether the male had recently joined one. If the female Scholar thought she wouldn’t know what a mafia was, then obviously she had missed some things in her decades of being away.

A fourth-comer to the party was the thing that broke Danae’s boredom. This man however, was not like the Scholars, and she looked upon him with curious eyes. She had no answer for his questions because she wasn’t familiar with this town, or with the magistrate who had passed. But there was something about him, something she couldn’t quite put a finger on but was determined to do so.

“I don’t have those answers for you,” she said honestly, “but maybe one of these two will-“ she gestured to the two Scholars before continuing, “they both seem to have been friends of the late magistrate.”

Would any more guests attend this party today?

[-Malice-]

Often given, yet seldom meant; the word of man may bind more than any chain.

Fifty years it had been, fifty long winters and scorching summers of toil for the citizens of Caellen, and yet despite the civil war, despite the blood that stained its boundaries, a bestial tongue could still taste her on the midnight air. Savouring the familiar scent, like a connoisseur might a fine Bordeaux, an image began to form inside the Ankharu's mind; as the fragrance rekindled memories long thought buried in the pages of history, conjuring an ebony haired beauty from his past whose very presence spelled doom for the unjust.

This woman had been many things to people over the years, from friend, to judge, to Annihilator, but though their encounters had often been wreathed in war, to a being as ancient as Malice, she would always be a Sumerian Siren; she would always be Leid. Drawn across oceans of stars by this smell then, a vast and terrible hunger came to settle upon the shores of Terrenus; though perhaps for once, the exiled Queen could stay his merciless jaws, if only to dissuade her scorn.

Heralding the coming storm then, as omens and portends came crashing toward a reunion; a sizzling bolt of lightning danced across the sky, briefly illuminating a sign that read 'The Cardinal' before a towering figure materialized upon the scorched earth where it struck. Resembling a barbarian of the savage north in stature, if not attire, the traveller reached up with a single gauntlet and, without so much as a sound, scratched several cuneiform symbols upon the establishment's sign; inscribing the phrase 'A Raven's Wing awaits' in Razekan scripture. Believing that his quarry was a creature of habit and would return soon to roost, he nudged the doors to the tavern open and strode from the darkness outside, into the commotion beyond; whilst the dim lamp-light unveiled his appearance for all to see.

Unblemished as fallen snow, the visage of the juggernaut was inhumanly beautiful, possessing an angelic grace to its features that belied the cruelty in his heart; accentuated by the purple hair that tumbled to his shoulders, and the obsidian lips that entwined into an amused smirk as people's gazes found his flesh. Whilst he might have been undeniably handsome, however, an intense sense of foreboding radiated out from two black pits inside his skull; for though they served as his eyes and provided a glimpse into the cavity where his soul should have been, they drank in light and, if one looked long enough, instilled despair in even the stoutest of minds. Armoured from lower foot to just beneath his upper chest in, what seemed to be, a dark suit of full plate, a host of tattoos could be seen etched upon his prominent pectorals, depicting not only the signet of Darkbane and the crest of his Daemonic army, but also an allegiance to a long-dead name as well.

My bond still holds true Epoch, Malice thought, as he traversed the various tables and chairs, ignoring the throng of astonished men, and admiring women, as his muscular form approached the bar and then promptly took a seat. Remarkably, the sturdy perch he had selected managed to support his considerable weight and so, without embarrassing himself by breaking the furniture, he managed to order a drink, commanding in an unearthly voice that sounded like thunder “ Bring me several bottles, I suspect she'll make me wait”.

[Zenith]

"Mafia -- wouldn't you like to know, Judge." Kalenis lofted a slender ebony brow and shot the Queen a glance, followed by a playful grin that spread across his slender, graceful face. However, none had noticed but Kalenis would always be Kalenis, as he wiggled his bare feet in the beaten path, stepping into the ground, yet feeling no pain for rocks or no frustration for stubbed digits. It was his way always to be bare feet, and hated being in the restriction of shoes -- such nuisances.

As they walked, big tears fell from the skies and hit his shoulder slowly, as another man approached -- seeming to bring the rain along with him, however Kalenis wasn't ready to get wet, though he found water mystical and mysterious, a fluid blessing. With a lithe wave of his hand, a barrier covered their heads and spread across all four of the walking friends -- protecting from the rain that slowly tumbled, having the gray-bellied clouds above split open. The water hit the barrier and bounced, and splashed elsewhere, forming larger pools that ran down the invisible rain shield above them.

"Forgive my tardiness, I will truly miss my conversations with the elder scholar. He was a good man and his debates over life with a cup of ginger and orange tea was one of my favorite past times. The world will miss a man of his mind. I was detained by the protection and guidance of Onesimus' son -- who is also here in this world.

You remember Oni, right?" Pausing as the newcomer spoke, Kalenis turned to this man with a questioning look upon his handsome visage, "When you inquire about a dead man's home -- one might speculate that you are conspiring. Care to explain yourself, since you have come into some of the man's closest friends...?" Kale's stern face, that showed no emotion would be more intimidating laced with his words, which weren't of curiosity, but concern for the man's belongings -- should a thief try to take advantage of the deceased and his family.

As they walked, Kale's nostrils flared slowly, lifting the galactic eyes toward the village ahead of them. His mind pierced the land with ease and he loomed all about everyone, always on defense because of his status now, because of reality itself, because this world was not his own. "I sense a Raven's Wing. Hnm, I haven't seen him in ages..."