The sheen of the polished stone of Daath's cathedral reflected the overhead fonstone chandeliers' light. The whole building had an almost eerie glow to it, and if one wasn't careful, one could get lost for hours down there. The silence clogged the atmosphere, and any venturing shuffle of a footstep seemed out of place. The quiet bred a desire of those who wandered the halls to keep it that way, as such, the dense maze of halls never made its visitors feel welcome.
Sync paid no heed to this unwritten law, grumbling irately as he stormed through door after door. Why did he have to do it? Why not that stuck-up gunner or the chairbound pile of snot everyone so despised? Largo had some nerve giving the feared Tempest menial little chores like this.
He halted his fierce stampede as he approached the door. He heard a muffled sniffling as though whoever was there was crying softly. He frowned at her feebleness; what kind of God-General broke down in tears after a single death? It was all in a day's work, and Sync was actually sorry he wasn't present to see that fool die in the volcano that day. How ironic, a replica of Ion dying in Mt. Zaleho.
Sync pushed the door open slightly. He'd have to get this over with, but he may as well have some fun with the little pink-haired freak anyway.
"Arietta?" he placed one foot in the room cautiously. The young girl was sprawled on her bed, two decidedly ill-tempered ligers faithfully guarding their master. She didn't respond; she turned her head away from him and continued her continuous sob into the coarse fur of the beast. Sync closed the door behind him and stood there, not daring to approach the monsters. "Largo sent me to talk to you."
"What does he care?!" Arietta shouted, her voice wracked with the knot of agony that was tied in her throat.
"Largo doesn't want you feeling bad, and he sent me here to deal with you because he has 'things' to take care of," Sync remained at his post, keeping his tone solemn, but hiding his demonic grin behind his scarlet-stained mask.
"You... don't care, either..." she finally looked up, her eyes swollen from the irritation of the ligers' hair rubbing her face. "No one cares!"
"Of course I care," Sync dulled his voice to the kind intonation Ion always took. "I'll always care about you, Arietta."
"Ion!" The beast tamer flew out of bed and threw her arms around his waist. Sync only laughed evilly as Ion never would, awaiting her reaction. Stupid fool. "Ion?"
"Like hell!" Sync pulled his mask down, reveling in the shocked girl's discomfort.
"W-what?!" Arietta fell to her knees, one of the large monsters at her side instantly, giving its wordless support. "Ion..."
"Ion is dead, Arietta! The Ions you know are both dead!"
"'Ions?'" She wiped her eyes off on her sleeve.
"You never figured it out? The Ion you know died two years ago and was replaced by a replica."
"It's not true..." she uttered meekly, sinking even further and eyes welling again. Sync cackled at her distress. This was too much fun. "He... was..."
"How pathetic. A God-General's job is to kill, and you cry over a replica? I guess that idiot is so popular, he earns empathy from people that don't even know him!" Sync snapped.
"Ion..." Arietta couldn't process any more than to repeat his name again.
Sync sensed something coming. He glanced around and pinpointed the tense anger emanating from the ligers. They didn't want their master so upset, and they instinctively targeted the only other figure in the room.
He backed out the door, making sure he didn't let either out of his sight. He fumbled for the doorknob, a cold chill sweeping him. Since when did ligers frighten him so much? Their ears were pricked, and they faced him expectantly. He was virtually cornered if he couldn't just get the damn door open!
Sync suddenly tumbled backward, despite his trouble with the knob. He winced and mentally berated himself for being caught off guard so easily. Silhouetted against the luminance of the fonstones was Largo, and he didn't look very happy to see the Ion replica.
"What happened to your mask?" he punctuated slowly.
"I took it off," Sync said in his most annoying manner.
"You let Arietta see you," The Black Lion mused thoughtfully. "I knew I should have just come myself to cheer her up."
"Good luck with that," Sync made an attempt to slip away, but he was caught mid-slide and his slender forearm was in the vicegrip of Largo's broad palm.
"Arietta takes priority in my mind..." the large man closed his eyes, an expert at bottling up his fury. "But you are next in line."
Sync felt the blood rush back to his arm as it was released. Largo ducked through the door to Arietta's room, slamming it behind him. Sync massaged the tingling sensation out of his oxygen-deprived arm, cursing his rash behavior.
He darted through the myriad of passageways, hoping that Legretta had an assignment for him that sent him far away from Daath.