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"He he he, yeah, i guess. Though, from the looks of it, you've probably got it harder than me. I'm technically in my rebellious phase right now, so its easy to get away with a bit of mischief every now and then. I still get scolded a lot though" Dauner finished with a sigh, which quickly gave way for his smile to return. He was a wild card who couldn't survive without doing something fun, hence the usual drama at Hikari Palace which seemingly always brightened the mood of the palace's inhabitants. Dauner gracefully glided along the dance floor with Malia in his arms, savoring every last moment of the dance like it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It wasn't often he got to dance with royalty, especially one of a unique beauty. The dance however, was unfortunately short lived, as the music slowly died down. At the end of the dance, Dauner took a step back and bowed. "I hope I'm lucky enough to once again have such a charming dance partner at our next ball" Dauner said as he raised his head. "Certainly", Dauner said making a gesture which could only be interpreted as 'after you'. "I could certainly use a drink myself" he continued as he followed her through the crowd. However, before he knew it, they'd been surrounded by fae. Dark fae floated through the dance floor towards Malia, captivating the attentions of the entire room. As no one was paying attention, Dauner took the liberty of pulling two glasses of wine off the tray of one of the servants. As the fae took their place on the dance floor, Dauner handed one of the glasses to Malia, taking a sip  from the other. "Quite the peculiar subjects you've got here. They apparently beat me by miles when it comes to stealing a beautiful maiden's attention. Honestly, I don't know whether I should feel jealous or impressed" he joked. "A pleasure making your acquaintance sir Blackmilk. I'm Shelly Kuanji. I was just taking a look around. Admiring the internal decor of the room. It's got a really elvish touch to it. I'm kinda fond of elvish design and all that." For someone who had routed herself into the art of deception at a very young age, Shelly had reached where she could lie as naturally as she breathe. her lies simply couldn't be detected by even the most skilled n the field, without them having to doubt everything about her, including the truths she spoke. As such lying had become second nature to her. After all, no completely honest person could survive long in the realm of politics. "Oh, but your not here to listen to my boring tastes, are you?" Shelly stopped herself. "So, sir Blackmilk, how are you enjoying the evening?"

Velindrel considers the question itself. He nods calmly.  "It has self refueling energy supply.  Tis built on the cells I worked into and around the vakar ore itself."  He tells her.  Vel...they were at the nickname phase.  He grins.  He considers what else he needs to tell her.  "The grooves in the pendant power ye's device."  He explains to her.  "As before I have writ ye some notes."  He hands her the manual of operation.  "I made sure my people would not have security footage of the...certain metal we used here."  He explains to her with a nod. "I meant to ask ye, art ye a Slayer?" He muses to her.  He knew there were certain people out there that hunted folks like the Vampyre near his client. "Ye doth not have to respond to the question."  He says curiously, he was respecting her need for privacy. He further considers the situation.  "The...metal you were able to produce leads me to think ye art connected, and well I might add ye see?" He says and continues.  "Such connections would benefit me and mine employers quite well..."  He says to her calmly.  It was an invitation....  

Damien remained passive; a languid glance drifted toward Marina from time to time in a way that seemed almost possessive, and he shifted his feet to stay near her as the conversation went on, but otherwise, he was the very model of an obedient underling... which was probably curious, all things considered, as Marina was very much warm-blooded. "Aye," Velindrel answered her. "The amulet generates shield and with enough capacity can burn certain...types of people." He says with a wink. "Just what I'm looking for," Marina responded, "I've got port in a city full of those people, and try as I might, I can't get the sun to stay up twenty-four hours.."  As a jest, it fell flat, anchored to seriousness by the flicker of painful memories that danced against the edge of Marina's thoughts, and pinched at her formerly laughing eyes. "If you adjust the settings of the device, ye shalt find various elemental properties of the shield. The repelling effect, as we discussed, and as a bonus, it can burn certain types of idiots alive." "You always do such fantastic work, Vel."  She smiled. Vel?  They had apparently reached the 'nickname' phase of their relationship. Reaching forward, Marina took the amulet as Velindrel offered it, delicately turning it over in her hands as she ran her fingertips over its grooves and edges.  It was beautiful; deep red, owing to the valkar, and veined with the multi-colored metals and magics Velindrel had used in his smithing, with a loop and clasp on its back so that it might be hung or worn as appropriate.  The oil on her thumb left a smear, and she couldn't help but buff it off with the cuff of her coat. "At ye's command, we can test the device in here." He says, with an eye toward Damien. "Let's do that," she said, glancing around the wide expanse of the smith.  At its full power, the amulet would more than encompass the room, but Velindrel was so capable that she was sure he had included a way to dial the affected area back.  "We'll obviously dial it back.  Despite his glowering, Damien is a valuable member of the team, and every girl needs a looming shadow to threaten off any unsightly hangers-ons, right?", she said, laughing.  Behind her, Damien's glower broke into swallowed pride that he cast off toward the corner, as if it could be unseen. "You mentioned capacity earlier," she went on, "Does the device need fuel or a magical charge of some kind?  I apologize if the question is silly, magic isn't my forte."

Afterlife. The beating heart of the City's underground. The bar where an impressive life or stupendous death could get a drink named after you. Afterlife, where the City's greatest Solos lived immortal. And Božidar was, he had to admit, extremely giddy to be a part of it all. The borg followed the bouncer, the former's high-heeled legs clicking on the white tiles. Few men had the balls to install permanent heels and so Dar walked in his with confidence, with a sway to his hips. With that same confidence he entered the meeting room, clicking his tongue and winking at the fixer. "Name's Buni. That's B-U-N-I. You may catch my act at club Rendezvous every Friday past midnight - if you're man enough." He laughed, a high-pitched, auto-tuned laugh. The borg stood six foot five tall (with his heeled legs and all) and needed very little clothes - after all, he was decked out in full body augs from foot to frontal lobe. His face was concealed by a helmet of darkened glass, its visor shaped like a heart. His full-body plating went from ebony black to chromatic white. The only piece of clothes on him was a large pink raincoat which was unbuckled now, but usually did a good job hiding the extent of his augmentations.  What flesh there was on display - on the chest, on the upper arms, on the top of palms - was pale, freckled, soft, hinting at body conversion at an early age and meat that grew into its metallic parts. Dar passed by the fixer. He peered at the pair in the room. Immediately, his eyes went to the woman, who sported quite a rack and a miniskirt shorter than a gnat's lifespan. He took a seat right next to her on the couch, the piece of furniture protesting his considerable weight with loud creaking. "Evening, sugar. You may call me Buns, but I feel that name would suit you better than me," He spoke with a Slavic accent, certain vowels dragging out into auto-tuned white noise. "Feel free to use me as a body shield any time you need, princess, this chrome is not just for show, m'kay?" He pulled up the sleeve of his raincoat and flexed his arm, the metallic tendons straining in a display of strength.

Something is missing. Something important has changed. Had they looked more closely they would see the emptiness in the picturesque atmosphere. Yes, no more banshees. Yes, too much quiet. No more grinding of stone, only dust beneath empty pedestals. Something is missing. Gusts of fog quickly move overhead. Figures up above, protected by the illumination reflecting off collectives of water droplets. Empty pedestals, lost from their statues. The timing is right, impeccable, and yet the movement is flimsy. One drops from the sky, claws extended and ready to snatch the Vampire from the ground. Only too little too late. Their tired stony bones slow for the moment, but very quick to adjust and waken. Shikai succeeds in lifting her away only to find the ground where she was rendered tilled by the claws attempting to take her. Something is missing, and now it finds them. Upon their entry were several stone pedestals decorated with unique guardians. Never for the wild but for the old and ancient buildings. To protect and serve, yet now have become abandoned and forgotten in the Glenn. Now to be remembered. Wing flaps, and wind. The grinding of stone remerges with the swinging of deft limps. Awakened by trespassers, awakened from slumber to rectify their stagnation. To defend, to safeguard and protect. None who come shall pass, non who come shall leave.