The Guild Hall of Owl's Omen was extravagent, if nothing else - for a dark Guild, anyway. The Guild itself was three stories high, with the first story being for daily interactions between the Guild's members - the bar, the dining hall, and the library were all located there. On the second floor were the dorms, where most of the Guild's members stayed, for various reasons. The third floor was specifically for the Master's use - not many people got to go up there. But the Master was a man of many secrets, so not many questioned him.

The decor around the Guild was rather simplistic. Or, at least, it appeared to be. The main colors consisted of purples, blacks, whites, and grays. The main Hall had shiny, white-tiled floors, gray walls, and a purple-and-white granite countertop with black tabletops and chairs. The ceiling was black, with thousands of tiny, white lights all over it to emulate the night sky. The same went for the curtains - they were dark purple in color, blocked out any and all light from the outside, and decorated with hundreds of starlike white lights. The lighting in the room was usually kept rather dim, just in case someone wanted to flash the strobe lights and have a little fun - which happened much more often than someone would think from a Dark Guild.

Upstairs, the floors were carpeted, and most of the dorms looked almost exactly the same. The walls were light gray in color, the carpet was intricately-designed floral patterns, colored purple, gray, white and black, and the bedspreads were purple-and-black by default. There was a small closet, a dresser, and a bed in each room, as all of the rooms were for one person and one person only. The girls shared a restroom at one end of the hall while the boys shared one at the other end.

The outside of the building was largely purple, and very eye-catching. It was located near the center of Lavender City - a populous town in the mountains of northern Fiore. Due to its difficult location and powerful members, the Guild was not often challenged by the government, or any light Guilds, in spite of their deviant behavior and questionable motives. For that reason, the Guild's members were usually allowed to go on their merry way and do what they wished... as long as their Master was okay with it.

The Master of Owl's Omen was widely known as one of the strongest wizards in Fiore. His name was Zale McNamara, and he was thirty-seven years old. He wasn't particularly tall - in fact, he was just a bit taller than average, standing in at 5'9" or so. He had dark blue hair and pale silver eyes, and was still very attractive, especially for his age. But he wasn't known for his beauty. No, Zale was incredibly powerful, and was notorious for his quick temper and total disregard for human life. Though he was a dangerous killer in the past, most of his dirty work was carried out by his "wolves" nowadays.

"Wolves" was a term for the S-Class mages in Owl's Omen, though the most common - and more derogatory - term for them was "dogs." They were usually made S-Class by a combination of their physical and magical powers, and their loyalty to Master Zale. One could not become S-Class in Owl's Omen without killing for their Master, and one remained S-Class by following every order without question or hesitation. Hence the term "dogs."

Owl's Omen was feared, revered, and powerful. They were truly a force to be reckoned with, with strong and loyal members who would kill for their Master. But such an evil Guild is bound for self-destruction, and even those who seem invincible will fall eventually. This is the story of Owl's Omen, and how they were taken down from the inside.

November 15th, X876
Cecily Larue

It was cold in Lavender City, per the norm - especially at this time of year. Mid-November was usually when the snowstorms really started coming down, but as it would happen, there were only flurries falling from the dull gray sky. The temperature, however, was likely in the early thirties, or high twenties. It was just cold enough to be uncomfortable, speeding Cecily's booted feet along at a brisk trot to get back to the Guild Hall. The twenty-year-old had just gotten done at the market, and was toting a few paper bags filled with various food and drinks. Master Zale often sent her off to the market when they were low on supplies - apparently, the honey-blonde young woman was more personable than about three-quarters of the other Guild members, and so people were less likely to be afraid of her when she approached - even with the Guild's insignia burned onto the side of her throat.

She heard all sorts of junk from Lavender City's residents about how she shouldn't be in Owl's Omen - she was too young; she was too friendly; she was too kind to be in such a place. They just didn't understand - how could they? - how much she owed to Master Zale. And he never asked too much of her. Nothing she couldn't handle, anyway. He did much more for her than she did for him, such as providing food, shelter, and protection whenever she needed it. If she had to perform a few less-than-legal tasks for him in return, so be it. She didn't mind.

What she did mind, however, was the fact that her ponytail was sliding out, letting her light golden hair tickle the sides of her face and neck. She sighed. Her hair was at that awkward length, where it went just a bit past her collarbone, with about a hundred layers clipped throughout it. Its already-wavy nature combined with the fact that it was at just the wrong length made it nearly unbearable. She reminded herself to cut it later - along with those sideswept bangs that nearly concealed her right eye nowadays. She'd cut it as soon as she got a break later that day.

Cecily had a hum in her throat and a skip in her step by the time she reached the Guild Hall, and balanced the paper bags precariously on one thin hip as she opened the door with the hand she'd freed. Unfortunately, that good mood went right out the window when she stepped inside.

The tension was palpable, and the strobe lights weren't even on, signaling that there was likely something off. There were about ten Guild members in the Hall at the moment, but among them was Master Zale. In fact, it seemed that he was part of the tension, as one of the lower-ranked mages was glaring him down from only a few feet away. A quick look around told Cecily that she was the only S-Class there, so that was probably going to be a problem as well. She was one of the younger "Wolves," so it was quite a bit more difficult for her to perform the kind of crowd control that Master Zale would want. She usually had at least one other S-Class to help her out. It wasn't that she wasn't more than willing to help the Master with whatever he needed - it just wasn't always easy.

After calmly walking over to put the groceries behind the bar, Cecily trotted over to her Master's side. Her emerald green eyes remained transfixed on the still-glaring lower-ranked mage - who she now recognized as twenty-nine-year-old Marx Range, a Requip mage that had only been with the Guild for a year or so. He had dusty brown hair and gray eyes, and was a little on the chubbier side. Not a threat.

"Cecily, you know I hate to ask these kinds of things of you," Master Zale said in a rueful voice, his pale silver eyes flicking over to the blonde young woman. "But it appears that our beloved Marx isn't happy with the way we run things around here."

Cecily felt her eyebrows knit together. "Does he want to leave?" she questioned, her eyes only leaving the Requip mage for a heartbeat in order to glance at her Master.

"It appears so, yes." The Master's tone was lilting, almost singsong, in a way. Most would say that it was much too light for the type of thing he was talking about, but such serious matters were mundane to a man like Zale.

"I understand." Cecily shrugged off her jacket and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair - there was no sense in getting it dirty, after all - and stepped over to sit beside Marx at his table. She smiled. "Hello, Mr. Range. How are you doing?" she asked, making it a point to keep her tone of voice light and cheerful.

Marx's gray eyes softened a little at the sight of her, but his expression was more sad than anything. Worry was written in every fine line on his face. "Considering why you're here to speak to me, I doubt I'm doing well. But thank you for asking."

Cecily's smile faltered a bit. "Why do you want to leave?" she questioned, folding her hands on the table before her. She was suddenly acutely aware of the knife concealed within her calf-high boot - it felt as though it was burning her skin. "Are you unhappy here?"

"Very," Marx responded, closing his eyes with a sigh. He suddenly slammed a fist down on the table and turned to face her fully, his eyes panicked and wild. "You have to be able to see what's going on, Cecily. Everyone has to be able to see that what's happening here isn't right!" he was speaking feverishly, his tongue tripping over itself in his haste to get his words out. "We're pawns. We're brainwashed, oppressed fools, and we're being led by a cruel, heartless man." His voice had risen by that point, and everyone in the Guild was watching.

"Mr. Marx-" Cecily started, but he interrupted her.

"Zale is evil! He'll kill you all if you give him the chance! Don't turn your back on him! Sleep with one eye open!" Marx had stood by that point, a bit of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth as he screamed to the surrounding Guild members. "We live by his rules! Get out now while you have the chance-!"

This time, it was Cecily who had cut him off. In one swift movement - a movement so fast that it could not be seen by the naked eye - she had whipped out her knife, stood up, and thrust it through Marx's back. It was buried to the hilt, and the tip was protruding out the front of the man's chest.

Just as the blood stain started to blossom through the back of Marx's shirt, Cecily ripped the knife out. Blood splattered across the table and across Cecily's face and hands, but she paid no mind. Marx dropped facedown on the ground, and red liquid began pooling around him. His fingers were still twitching a bit, but he was obviously dead.

No one in the Guild looked surprised in the slightest, and they each went back to whatever they'd been doing before - one was browsing the job request board, two were playing cards, and a few were talking in the corner with some liquor. One of the other lower-ranked mages hurried over to clean up the "mess" on the floor, and Cecily jumped a bit when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She relaxed some when she saw that it was only the Master, with his silver eyes warm and inviting.

"You did well, Cecily," he praised, placing a hand on her head. "I'd like to thank you for standing by me all these years. You must be tempted to follow these deviants every now and then, don't you? After they spout off about me being so bad and all that," he clarified, removing his hand from her hair and arching one eyebrow.

Cecily shook her head quickly, her eyes widening. "No, Master, I'm loyal to you. You should know that by now!" she corrected, appalled at the very suggestion that she might betray her beloved Master.

Master Zale looked at her for a few more moments - was he still skeptical? - before laughing out loud. He bent halfway over, clutching his stomach, and chuckled hard for a few moments. Then, he straightened back up with a bright, sunny smile in her direction. "Of course you are! I never said you weren't, dummy." He patted her head again, a grin still plastered on his face. "I appreciate all you do for me. You work hard."

"Th-thank you, Master..."

"You should go clean up," he suggested, pulling his hand away and giving her a halfhearted chuckle. "You have some... dirt on your face."

Dirt? Oh. He must mean the blood, she realized, and hesitated for half a heartbeat before giggling in return. "You're right. I'll be back soon," she informed him, and trotted up the stairs and into the bathroom.

Once there and prepped for a shower, Cecily took a look at herself in the mirror. Her pale, olive-tinted skin was marred in several areas by scars, both newer and older. The most, she'd found, were located on her stomach and back. She traced one hand over her bare stomach, frowning a little in disappointment. So much for that perfect figure and beautiful skin that those women in the magazines had. Not that she had ever really wanted that in the first place - but didn't every girl dream of being a model at least once or twice in their lives?

Her eyes travelled up her body, and she jumped a bit when she made eye contact with herself in the mirror. There was blood all over the right side of her face, already halfway dry. She hadn't realized she'd gotten so dirty earlier.

She raised one hand in order to brush the blood off of her cheek, and realized her fingers were trembling. Why does this always happen? she muttered inwardly, feeling a familiar tightness in her chest as she fought to still her hands. She shouldn't be shaky or feel anything less than accomplished - she'd done her job, defended her Master, and protected the structure of her Guild.

Then why do you feel so sick inside?

The shaking was more intense now, and Cecily swallowed hard to try to clear the lump in her throat. Her eyes were burning and the world was starting to blur - was she crying? Her legs started to tremble, and she sank to the floor on her knees, her forehead coming to rest on the mirror as she attempted to steady her breathing.

"What's going on?" she whispered, feeling the tears leak from her eyes and roll down to drip off the end of her nose. They fell onto the floor between her bloodstained hands, and she bit back a sob. "Why do I feel so..." She broke off in a wretched hiccup, and her eyes widened as she brought her hands up to her head, clenching them in her hair.

Stop.

The word was forceful in her head, firm and sharp. She wasn't even sure it was her voice, but she didn't care. It gave her the resolve she needed in order to wipe the tears from her face and sniff back the sobs that had begun ripping themselves from her chest.

"Y-You're being silly, Cecy," she whispered to herself, her voice wavering ever so slightly as she got to her feet and turned to get into the shower. She needed to get the blood off of her before she went downstairs, and if she took too long, everyone would think that there was something wrong with her. She was supposed to be social and happy, not brooding and moody.

As soon as the hot water hit her skin, she felt immeasurably better. The heat was comforting, the bathroom was empty - apart from her, - and the rest of the Guild was downstairs. She could hear the music playing, and pictured everyone dancing under the flashing purple strobe lights. She always liked it when everyone would relax and goof off together, and being up in the showering room alone meant that she was likely missing it.

"Better hurry," she murmured, ignoring the red-tinged liquid washing down her face and body as she scrubbed Marx's blood from her skin. "Don't wanna miss it."

Everything's fine, Cecily chanted in her head, over and over and over and over again. Everything is going to be fine.

Dark Guilds are cool. Enough said.

There will be more info on my profile, along with the rules and form. Please read everything carefully, do not skip any of the form's sections, and send the characters in through PM.

Reviews make the world go round!

God Bless you all!

-Canima