A/N: Another project I shouldn't be thinking of or working on at all. I think I've bitten off more than I can chew because I'm a dumbass with too many ideas and not enough time on my hands, QwQ.

Entirely Nyotalia fic. Fantasy/Adventure/Drama/Mystery/Slow-burn romance-type action goin' on here. Sort of Inuyasha/Trigun/Hetalia Fantasia style inspired story. It's not a crossover. All slow-burn pairings. Yuri, of course. If you want to know what pairings to expect later on, please refer to my Profile.

I hope you enjoy this!

Disclaimer and details in profile.

The Seeker

Episode One – Wanderers

The night was calm and still. There were no crickets chirping, and there was no wind rustling the tree's leaves. The moon hung in the sky, large and ever seeing.

She quietly traveled through every room, turning off all of the lamp lights and straightening stray objects or moved furniture.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, almost tripping over a few discarded toys. She stared at them for a moment, then huffed and stamped her foot once, the sound muffled by the carpet. "I told them not to leave their toys in the middle of the hall. The least they could do is leave them on the side if they cannot be bothered to put them away!" she muttered heatedly to herself, picking up the wooden toys quickly and getting on her way.

Up the stairs she climbed, toward her children's room where they would undoubtedly be sprawled in their beds, the covers tangled around their unconscious forms. She heard the pitter-patter of feet scurrying around and she clicked her tongue in disappointment.

"If you are not in bed by the time I turn the corner we will not be going to the orchard tomorrow!" She warned, knowing the "threat" would be heeded greatly. It was a promise she had made to them months ago for their birthday and it was something they were all looking forward to. In no time at all she reached the top of the stairs, took a few more steps and turned left.

At the end of the hall was her children's room. Under the thin space of the door she could see the soft glow of the candle-light flicker playfully as it spilled onto the floor beyond the door. She could hear her children giggling. She imagined them looking at each other from their beds on either side of the room, their bright eyes dancing with glee and mischief, but with a hint of tiredness. Making her way to the end of the hall, she knocked once, grasped the door-knob and entered.

She could still hear her children giggling under their covers, the lamp still glowing softly. She sighed, shaking her head as she recalled her childhood days. She understood exactly where her children were coming from.

"I let you stay up an extra hour, now it is time for you to get to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." Her children giggled. They emerged from under the covers, smiling tiredly and pleading for her to tuck them into bed and kiss them goodnight. She did so, taking the time to wish them good dreams and a good night's rest. She dimmed their lamp light before she left the room, sending them one last fond look before she shut the door and went to her own room.

She stretched a bit as she slid into her bed, pulling out a book from under her pillow and flipping it open to the last page she read. This nightly ritual never failed to relax her and send her into a peaceful sleep. This night, however, she could not find sleep creeping up on her. In the dimness of her room, she lay looking up at the ceiling, wide-eyed. The minutes passed her by, slipping into an hour and then another, the book open face down on the floor, forgotten.

Outside in the late still night, the moon, bright and large, was shrouded by dark clouds.

She sat up in her bed, the light of the lamp having flickered out without her notice. Her breaths were visible clouds, puffing out passed her lips softly. She tossed the covers back, swinging her legs out one at a time, slowly. She was a wooden puppet without a will of her own.

She crept out of her room, shuffling down the dark hallways. The house was eerily still, shadows encroaching and creeping and swallowing things in her wake. She walked, stopped for a few moments, breathed, walked again. She traveled to the kitchens, pausing again, contemplating. There was a hanging dish towel, china dishes on display, a few knives left to dry in the sink. The water drops left spots as they faded into the air. She left the kitchen.

Back up the stairs she climbed, reaching the landing and took a few more steps, turning left and stopping.

She blinked. The mother gasped, her body growing icy. She shivered. At the end of the hall, her childrens' bedroom door stood wide open, opening into a dark hole. She did not remember how she got here, but the gaping black hole drew her in, tempting her with the creaks of the floor as her children tip-toed around, giggling and shushing each other. Her quiet voice was high and pitchy when she called;

"Children! My children you are supposed to be in bed asleep!" They burst out laughing, running past the door but she could not see them in the pitch darkness. She took a step forward, but found her legs were heavy as stone. The floor boards creaked behind her.

As quick as a snuffed out candle, the cold disappeared and the sudden light blinded her. She gasped, stumbling backward when she heard her children scream. In the split second before she ran forward, a black shadow draped over her, bone-thin fingers digging into her shoulders, skull-shaped head hovering closely next to hers. An ugly grin stretched across its face, teeth sharp and glinting in the light of shadows.

She leapt forward, the fingers that had dug into her shoulders scraping her skin, tearing her night shirt and drawing blood. Tripping over her feet she fell to the floor, halfway into the room. She scrambled up to her hands, then her knees, then her feet. She threw her eyes around the devastated room, looking, searching for her children. They were nowhere in sight.

The moon emerged from its temporary darkness.

Outside of the house, perched in the branches of the oak tree standing outside the children's room, a figure could barely be seen peering into the open window. Inside, the frantic and terrified mother finally heard the rattling sound. She became rigid, trembling body twisting around in a sudden, dangerous instinct to fulfill her curiosity. Her face met the skull's, wide eyes peering into its two black holes.

She screamed and the wraith figure disappeared.

Whispers. There were whispers all around her. Aggravating her. Making her lose her concentration. Abigail Kirkland clicked her tongue, irritation radiating off of her in waves. Honestly. How was she supposed to finish her job properly if her invisible audience wouldn't shut up? They weren't supposed to be there anyway.

Abigail gritted her teeth, shutting her eyes tighter in an effort to block out the excessive external noise. Having the villagers waiting for her outside was bad enough. Taking a deep breath, Abigail let the rest of the world slip away from her senses. In her mind's eye, she pictured the four symbols of the four realms, and the four symbols of the four centers. She focused on two, one of each group: the symbol for heaven and the symbol for soul.

Standing within the abandoned house, Abigail pressed her palms together, holding a necklace of blue wooden beads from which hung a pendant depicting a crescent moon curled within a flaming sun between her hands. Beneath her feet, a glowing circle formed, designed with intricate patterns and complicated symbols. Her dark green cloak fluttered with the wind it produced from its energy, dust and dirt swirling around her worn boots. Outside, she could feel her waiting audience fall in a hush, murmuring quietly behind their hands. She could feel the crowd fidget as one like a nervous horse, wary and unsure. She ignored them even as the beings of the fifth and sixth realms continued to whisper. She began to chant:

From up high, oh, whispered word
Like sighing wings of bird
Open bright and shine
Hear faithful pardons of mine

The collapsing house began to shake around her. The beating of drums crashed off the brittle walls. Dust and debris showered from the crumbling ceiling. She could hear snarls, the sound becoming louder and louder with each passing second.

As it sees fit to day
Let sinners lay
Pull up sufferers from roam

She threw her hands forward, palms out with the necklace wrapped around her fingers. The blue beads began to glow. She snapped her glowing eyes open when she heard it; the pitched scream of the phantom as she forced it to appear before her. The light shining from her eyes dimmed enough so her vision dulled enough to clearly see the pathetic figure of the phantom crouched low to the ground, red eyes glaring furiously at her.

"I'm terribly sorry, dear phantom," She started softly. The black figure rose, locks of ink black hair whipping around its transparent body like lashing cat tails, "You have caused enough trouble for this village and they to you. I am sorry if you only stayed due to some unfinished business, but I assure you that whatever has tied you to this realm has long since perished from this world as well."

"…oh…" Its voice rasped out like nails scraping against a chalkboard, a sound Abigail had become accustomed to after such numerous tasks.

"I have to move you along now…"

"… See… her…" Abigail frowned, shifted a foot forward, loosening her hold on the entity so that it may speak.

"What do you wish to tell me? You have to move on from this realm but if there is something I can finish for you then it is the least I can do." Sometimes some phantoms or spirits had requests she could fulfill for them, ensuring they would stay where they belonged after she had sent them away. This phantom wasn't as evil as most of the villagers made it out to be, that much she had been able to decipher of their inconsistent stories.

"N… oh… s… her… seeker…" And that caught Abigail's attention. She shifted her other foot, locking the phantom in place so she needn't have to hold on so tightly to it any longer.

"Seeker?" Before her eyes, the phantom seemed to shrink in size. Its bony figure retreated into a crouch, head bowed.

"Move…ing… He… is… moving… on…"

"Moving on where? Where is who going?" Abigail's heart pounded frantically in her chest, anticipation and dread building in her gut as the phantom continued to speak.

"Hurry… hurry… they… are…coming…" And before she could ask more questions, the phantom began to wail like a banshee. It wailed for something it had lost, something Abigail tried and failed to hear more clearly. Abigail cursed, clicked her tongue once before shifting her stance back, gripping the phantom once more to finish what she had started.

Let them fade and drift home.

With an ending screech, light enveloped the phantom for a moment. All at once, the rumbling and creaking of the house, the screech of the phantom and the howls of the light faded with a soft sigh, leaving Abigail in the center of it all, the light of her eyes fading quickly and her cloak and the dust settling around her gently. She stood, eyes closed, breathing. Still.

She dropped her hands from in front of her, raising one to rake her fingers through her wind-blown hair to retain some image of decency and professionalism. Not much she could do for her dusty clothes, though. There came a boyish giggle and on her shoulder sat a pretty little fairy, red hair sticking up horribly as if he had been struck by lightning. His solid amethyst eyes bored into her lingering acid-green ones, mischief sparking within their depths.

"Good morning, Miss." He chirped happily, giggling and fluttering his butterfly wings. His feet were folded coyly beneath him. His tiny, delicate hands played with a hanging lock of Abigail's tangled hair.

"Aiden." She greeted respectfully back, voice even. "The legend of the Seeker. Is that what she meant? What do you and your people know about it." Aiden giggled in response. He un-tucked his feet and took off from her shoulder.

"As much as you and the humans do. Nasty, evil, monster, murderer is what he is. But even we think it's just a rumor." He whispered the latter information conspiratorially in her ear.

"Who was it the phantom mentioned is coming?" Aiden flew upside down in front of Abigail's face, tilted his head. He righted himself and kissed her nose. Ah. So that's what all those whispers were about. The spirits knew the phantom would inform her of Theirarrival. Whoever They were.

"Be safe, my love." And he disappeared from her sight. Abigail sighed, glaring at the spot Aiden disappeared from. She adjusted her coat and carefully exited the room, down the hall, headed down the stairs and back out to the awaiting villagers.

xXx

As soon as she stepped out of the decaying house, she was met with a round of cheers from the villagers. Abigail raised her hand, waving a little. She didn't deserve their gratitude nor did she wish for it from these stupid people. The elder of the village approached her with a kind smile, droopy eyes glittering with relief.

At least not all of the villagers were stupid though.

"Young Sister, you have done us a great service today and yet I fear this will never be enough to show our gratitude." He offered Abigail a pouch opened enough so she could see the coins shining inside. She shook her head, smiling reassuringly at the old man who seemed saddened by her rejection.

"Please. I've already received payment of greater value to me than your money can offer me. I'd rather you keep it instead. You need it more." Looking confused, the old man lowered his hands.

"May I ask what this payment is, young lady?" At the innocent question, Abigail smiled at the old man, shooting an indiscernible glare to most of the young adults hanging in the crowd.

"The phantom will no longer be stuck in that awful place and thus will no longer be tormented staying in this realm; and you will no longer be pestered by the young ones of the villagers complaining about the phantom." She reached down to take a hold of a gnarled hand, rough as bark.

"And you called me Sister." She grinned gently, the old man beaming even if she knew he didn't understand why that was so amusing to her.

"Will you be staying or will you take your leave, young lady?" There was something in his tone that made Abigail's small grin lose what little brightness it had, but she continued to smile for the sake of politeness. So the old man did know.

"If you could point me in the direction of Ventano City, then I will be on my way. I wouldn't want to impose on your humble village." She let go of the old badger's hand, the elder nodding curtly and pointing in a direction over his shoulder without even looking.

Well, Abigail supposed, she could be able to find it on her own. The city was not that far off from this tiny village so she would probably be able to arrive by noon the next day. She could hope for sooner but she would have to be careful if she traveled through the night, and she was already feeling the effects of her earlier task draining her energy.

"And one more thing," Abigail started loudly, seeing the old coot flinch and frown under his long, ugly beard. "Please be careful, you and your village. I've heard the Seeker is around." With a dramatic swish of her dark cloak, satchel and quiver slung around her shoulder, Abigail departed the village, feeling satisfied with the anxious murmurs sweeping rapidly through the handful of gathered villagers. Soon it would spread to the rest of the people and she smirked, thinking of the chaos that would blind these people in their terror.

Talk of the Seeker being close by may have been a small lie, but the legend would be enough to send these people over the deep end. Maybe the village would let itself burn. Abigail glared at nothing, frowning as she walked.

Ah… Maybe that had been too much…

A woman in a long coat stepped out of the back of the carriage she had been riding on for most of the morning. She turned to the old man who had kindly offered her a ride to town, despite the agitated protests of his grumpy wife, and tried to pay her fee. The old man politely declined, she politely insisted, the old woman took it and they took off. She watched them move on, a chuckle escaping her throat. She shrugged her bag higher on her shoulders, patted the satchel-bag at her side with a fond smile, and stepped into the quaint tavern – the Fireside Mourn, it was called – they had dropped her off in front of, at the very edges of Ventano city.

There was no sudden hush at the newcomer's entrance and no suspicious stares, much to her disappointment. Men, old and young alike, sat in the numerous round tables; drinking and laughing, smoking and gambling. Geez, it was barely noon. The atmosphere was rather cheerful and it brought a grin to her face. As she looked around, a young man behind the bar waved her over with a sweet smile gracing his thin lips, a type of smile she recognized.

"Hello, Ma'am. What can I do for ya?" He asked when she reached the counter. She tipped her hat to the man, smiling broadly as she took it off and ran a hand through her short, dirty-blond hair.

"Good morning, Sir. A room if you got one? Don't know how long I'll be staying." The man chuckled in response, turning to snatch a pen and hover over the log book.

"Name, Ma'am?"

"Jones, Amelia. Could go for a drink, too, if you don't mind?" He jotted down her name into the book, reached up for a room key and turned back to her, holding it out for her to take.

"Third floor, last room down the hall, on yer left. How 'bout you go put yer stuff up away and fresh up while I fix up a drink for ya?" He winked. Amelia giggled, taking the key and standing from her seat.

"Sounds good. See ya in a few." And she stalked off towards the stairs and climbed up two flights, walked down the hall and reached her room. There was a painted '14' on the door and the same number was etched into the metal face of the key. She raised a brow, but ignored the tiny prickle of unease that had crept into her gut and unlocked her room, entering with a yawn.

Amelia set her bag, satchel and – after unstrapping the holsters and straps – her guns that were hidden under her coat down on the chest at the foot of the bed, idly looking around the simple yet welcoming room. The single white bed was neatly made – Amelia beamed when she found a piece of chocolate resting on the white pillow. The walls had printed wallpaper, cream with simple repeating designs of tiny red flowers. Most of the furniture was dark mahogany and the curtains, at the moment pulled back to let light enter through, were a dark shade of rich brown.

Amelia grinned, headed for the adjoining washroom to clean up. Once she was done, she felt new and content. She pulled on new clothes, shrugged her tattered coat back on, making sure to button it up to hide her guns, yanked on her boots and headed back down to the bar.

The young man beamed at her, setting down a tall glass of some murky looking liquid. He chuckled at her expression.

"It ain't liquor but it's just as good; but I can get ya a shot if ya want it." Amelia waved a dismissive hand, grinning at the man. He chuckled again, leaning forward on the counter as Amelia reached for the brown liquid. She ignored him in favor of the drink, which she hummed to in immense pleasure.

"This's delicious. What is it?"

"Rum-doe. Ya won't find that any other place, let me tell ya. Family recipe."

"Rum-doe?" Amelia laughed.

"Name'd be my doin'. Was five when my pa created it an' he let me name it." He seemed so proud of himself that Amelia felt compelled to praise him. She took an unmannerly gulp of the drink instead but she doubted he'd mind at all.

"Ya ain't from 'round here, are ya." Amelia shook her head.

"That obvious, huh?"

"Yer accent gives ya away. Where're ya comin' from?" Amelia set down her near-empty glass carefully. She blinked, blue eyes flashing from behind her glasses, smiling softly. It was such an innocent question. Her eyes flickered up, resting on the man's smiling face, meeting with his dark eyes. They were dimming, his grin was slipping yet he hadn't seemed to have caught on to her mood shift. She grinned brightly and as a result he brightened up again, as if it hadn't been fading at all.

"Oh, everywhere and nowhere." She answered simply, smiling brightly. She didn't bother to notice his confusion and questioning eyes. She took another long gulp of the drink, gasping with satisfaction when she set it down.

"While we're on the topic, you're not from around here either." He laughed loudly in reply, leaning an elbow on the counter so he could look her closely in the eyes.

"Naw, Ma'am. Came from Saxe when I was a boy, never lost the accent actually. Blame my Pa for that. He was firm in keeping with his roots, where he came from ya know? Never understood why, though." Amelia whistled.

"All the way from Saxe? Man, that must've been a trip." He grinned once again, pointing to a painting behind him hanging high on the wall. On the image was a farm; there was a quaint house and a red barn with horses and cows and chickens dotting the background. Even on the painting, the sky seemed to be an endless blue. Though she had never been there, she could just imagine the warmth of the sun on her skin and the hot air blowing in her face.

"Beautiful, ain't it. That's the farm where Pa grew up which belonged to Old Pops, my grandpa."

"Why'd your dad leave?" Amelia couldn't help but ask. Joshua shrugged.

"I never really knew, actually. But we moved after Pa's best friend was killed. Maybe it had something to do with that. Ma certainly disapproved of him taking me all the way here…" He trailed off, face pulling into a thoughtful expression. "But I digress. Ya headed anywhere after this? Ya seemed to be packin' pretty light."

"I'm looking for people!"

"Friends? Family?"

"Not at all. I'm looking to get a team together! And for that, I need people." Amelia nodded like that answered every question on the world. The boy looked at her with a confused frown on his face, eyes narrowing. He opened his mouth to ask her, but–

"Anyway, before the day's lost, you mind telling me where I can find a tailor shop around here? I really want to get this tattered coat all fixed. I don't have the heart to get rid of it, y'know?" She piped up brightly, suddenly eager.

"Uh, sure thing, Ms. Jones. Let me draw a map for ya else ya get lost. This city's a maze even with careful directions."

"Thanks, and it's just Amelia. I personally can't stand formal talk. But that reminds me, I'm sorry I never asked you your name." He perked up, offering her his hand instantly.

"Joshua. Don't worry, slipped my mind, too. Probably 'cause I never really hold a conversation with my guests, uh." Amelia nodded, grasping his larger hand in her gloved one. As she suspected, his grip was firm; he held on tight. "Thank you, Amelia."

"Ah, no need for that. Heh, I'd tip my hat to ya, but I forgot it upstairs so a nod's all I can give. I'll be back in a bit, Josh!" She waved, walking past the other patrons and out the door. It was still early, just an hour away from noon. The sky was blue, the sun shone. For a moment she stood, reveling in the warmth the sun wrapped around her. She took a deep breath, raising her face to the sun, grinning broadly and fingering the sleeve of her coat, remembering that she had locked her room and ensuring her satchel-bag and its contents would remain safe.

xXx

Even with the rather detailed map – Amelia had to find a way to repay Joshua for being so helpful and kind to her, even though she knew he had had initial ulterior motives – Amelia still found the layout of the city somewhat confusing. It was all mazes and curves and turns and dead ends. Not to mention all of the sights and bustling people were a wonder. She kept getting distracted and side-tracked by the beautiful weather and the rather cheerful people. By the time she found the tailor's shop, the sun had risen high above the city.

It was a rather cute, quaint looking place. The shop was a decent size, wedged between a taller building and one relatively the same size. It had a blue-shingled roof with light brown stucco walls. Two large potted trees stood cheerfully on either side of the open door, the same color of the roof. Hanging above the doorframe was a sign that read Silvers' Tailor Shop.

"Huh." Muttered Amelia. She shrugged and went inside. And ran into a person whom she was immediately able to identify as a man.

"I'm so sorry, Miss! Are you okay?" Amelia rubbed her shoulder where she had collided with the man. She patted it, turned to him with a smile and an amiable dismissal on her tongue. She blinked at him. The man was taller than her, with chin-length blonde hair that fell in soft waves around his face. But he was just staring at her, wide – were they violet? – eyes behind glasses looking at her like she was something he had never seen before. Through the surprise on his face, she could see something darker there, etched into his skin, pooling in his eyes, soaked into the bones of his skull, probably his whole body if she'd paid closer attention.

"Em, you okay, dude? I didn't hurt you did I?" At the sound of her voice, the man blinked back in response before he broke out into a string of nervous apologies.

"Not at all, Miss! I'm fine, not hurt at all. You seem to be okay, too. But if you'll excuse me. I'm in a hurry… Goodbye!" He said in a rush and the next thing Amelia knew, he was gone out the door. He disappeared into the crowd, taking with him that feeling of numb sorrow. As much as she had felt the need to help him in some way, the strong feeling disappeared along with her instincts and her preoccupation with him. She delved deeper into the cozy shop.

xXx

"Hello!" Amelia called out, trying to find anyone in the shop, preferably someone who worked there. She made her way to the back, getting distracted by all of the colors of material lining the many rows of shelves. On the beige walls were articles of clothing placed within huge ornate frames. Though she would never dream of wearing such long, frilly dresses herself, or dresses at all for that matter, she had to admit that they were beautiful and well taken care of from the looks of it.

"They are vintage dresses. They are over two-hundred years old." Amelia yelped at the sudden sound of the new voice. She whirled around to see an older man standing right behind her.

"What the hell, old man? Don't you know you're not supposed to sneak up on people?" She huffed at the shorter man. He had his hands clasped behind his back as he stood rigid like a tree. His dull blue eyes seemed to bore her down, looking at her like the child she was.

"Uh, dude? You okay?" She asked after she began to grow uncomfortable by his stare. The old man was probably a pervert or something. The man grinned widely that moment, showing off the gaps of teeth in his mouth. Amelia crinkled her nose.

"Come with me, young lady. This way, this way." He ordered kindly, shuffling around and leading her towards the counter at the back of the shop. He was too quiet and creepy for Amelia's liking.

"So I take it you're Silvers? Nice place by the way, cute shop. Cool idea with the deco, too. Putting two-hundred year old dresses behind glass and in frames? Ha-ha, that ain't creepy at all but I guess it's whatever floats yer boat. You know you could sell 'em though, right? I mean with how old they are, you think you'd get quite a bit of money for 'em. Though I don't know what kinda girl would want to actually wear those things…,"

"Quite the talker, aren't you." The old man added the moment she trailed off. Amelia didn't know what else to do but smile at him.

"Yep! Say, think you could fix something for me, Sir?" She took the opportunity to remove her forest-green coat and gently place the bundle of leather onto the counter. Silvers immediately pulled it towards himself and unfolded the material. He examined it thoroughly. He turned it around and around a few times, turned it inside out, and even tugged at the seams so hard Amelia thought the old man would rip it apart. Her heart dropped to her stomach with every hard tug. Her urge to smack him and take her coat back so she could cradle him to her chest, whispering apologies and begging for forgiveness for handing him to the mean old man all the while, was overwhelming.

"What specifically do you need me to fix, young lady?" He asked tersely, shooting a wide eye at her, only now noticing the guns at her sides.

"It's Amelia actually! Anyway, I just need you to patch up the insides and fix up the tiny rips. Could you try and make it look good as new as best you can? That'd be totally sweet!" Silvers looked over the coat a few more times, muttering to himself and scribbling down what she assumed were notes.

"Would you like to borrow a coat, young lady? I'm sure you don't want people to see you carrying guns. People would begin to panic." He practically wheezed, chuckling dryly, and shuffled about again, disappearing somewhere into the back and reappearing minutes later with a coat clutched in his arms.

"You seem to be about the same size as my brother when he was your age." He said, stiffly waving his arm to indicate the article of clothing draped over his arm.

"No, that's not necessary." She protested. Silvers just moved closer to her and held out the dark coat for her. Despite not wanting to borrow the coat – One: because she felt guilty, two: because it was a man's coat, what the hell was the old man trying to say? And three: because she thought it was just plain weird – Amelia could see that it was a very nice coat. Though it looked like a normal blue coat, she could tell there was more to the color and design of it. The coat was special somehow.

No. She really didn't want to borrow it.

"Hey, so thank you! I think two, three days tops should be enough to fix up my coat right? Right! I'll see you in a few days, old man!" And she scrambled out of there, leaving the old man to shake his head and shuffle back to start his work, muttering about young people and their impatience.

Abigail was relieved when she finally reached Ventano City (although so much later than she had planned – stupid, sweet-hearted goblins). Not only because she was tired but because this meant she could get a decent rest in a nice tavern. It would do so much wonders for her energy to sleep in a nice bed after "camping" out in the woodlands like that. Sleeping on the ground without proper camping materials with rocks and twigs digging into her back was not her idea of proper rest. Not to mention the branches in the trees weren't large or thick enough for her to rest in.

Sighing as soon as she entered the city, she could feel herself brighten. She had heard that Ventano City was one of the most beautiful places in the world and that it was always filled with cheerful and lively people. Of course it was nothing like she heard the cities Nohi and Wekro were, where the buildings were carved out of stone and expanded far beyond the horizon, but this place was warm and welcoming.

She would have to be careful here.

The first thing she did was find a place to rest. She figured she could explore the city once she had a proper rest and a proper meal. Borrowing energy from the surrounding nature was a neat trick, but it was not something she was entirely comfortable with relying on all of the time. Especially from people.

Though the city seemed large, it really wasn't. She was able to find a tavern at the other side of the city, beyond that where she could see the beginnings of another forest. Yes, she had chosen a good place to rest.

As soon as she stepped foot into the tavern, she knew she had made a mistake.

There were lots of people inside, and the smell of liquor and smoke smacked her hard in the face, but it was the punch to the gut that set her on edge. A few of them – and she had come across enough of these type of people in her life she could identify them by sight alone – were Tale Hunters. There were only five but they were five too many.

Luckily for her, they seemed to be preoccupied and paid her no heed. If any of the Hunters noticed her bow and quiver full of arrows, they ignored it, to which she was grateful. Gracefully, she strode over to the counter where a young man was running back and forth delivering drinks to the raucous old men. He caught sight of her, shot her a smile and a nod. She nodded back, waiting stiffly to the side as a young boy ran past her.

The young man reappeared, waving her over to a mostly empty seat where she gingerly sat, avoiding looking around the room.

"Sorry it's so loud!" he spoke loudly, "It's somethin' they do every fifth night, they should be outta here in an hour or so. So! What can I do for ya?"

He seemed nice enough, all dimpled smiles and warm brown eyes. His dark hair was messy from all of the running around he was doing, becoming damp from all of the sweat, making his milky skin shine.

"A bed please. Three nights." He lost a little of the brightness in his smile by her curtness, but he bobbed his head, grabbing a book and a pen.

"This'll count as one o' those nights." he informed. "Name?" He glanced up at her from under his thick lashes. She nodded, not missing a beat.

"Abigail Kirkland." He jotted it down. With quick movements, he put away the book and pen and fetched her room key.

"Third floor. Third room on the right." She thanked him, trying to smile a little at least so she wouldn't come off as rude any longer. She was a lady for goodness' sake. The boy noticed her attempt and rewarded her with a wink. She scowled. She could feel heat rising to her face so she whirled around, making her way to the stairs as quickly as she could, nearly tripping on a step. She stopped to catch her breath on the last staircase.

"Keep your head, girl. He was just acknowledging your attempt at politeness. No need to get flustered. Ugh!" She wanted to slap her face but she refrained. Taking a calming breath she continued up the last steps, pulling out her room key as she did to study the number.

"Room twelve, third floor, third room on the right – oomph!"

"Ahaha! Wow, I'm just running into everybody today, huh? Haha!" Normally, Abigail would have apologized, this time especially seeing as she was the one who hadn't been paying attention, but the person' voice just aggravated her for some reason.

Abigail would blame it on her fatigue.

"You okay–,"

"If you've bumped into people plenty of times before then you should have learned by now to watch where you're going! Have you no sense? Ah, never mind, excuse me." She snapped. "Please." She decided to tack on. She lifted her green eyes to meet the girl's blue ones sparkling behind a pair of glasses (but it was mostly to avert her stare from the woman's rather well-endowed bust which couldn't help but pop out right in her face and mock her).

The girl who was a little more than half a head taller than her just laughed, her dark blonde hair bouncing around her shaking shoulders. She was either deliberately ignoring her glare or she didn't notice it. Either way, Abigail wanted her gone already.

"I'll take that as a yes. See ya!" The girl waved a hand in her face, stepping around her toward the stairs. It was as Abigail whirled around to correct her grammar did she notice the straps around her shoulders, and waist. Gun holsters.

Abigail let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding when she was sure the girl was gone. The girl's residual energy washed over her and she wondered why she wasn't shot down. Was that girl a Hunter as well? Or could she be a gunslinger, odd and rare as that was now-a-days?

Or perhaps she was some stupid girl who thought she could play around with such weapons.

She hoped it was either of the latter two choices.

"Ah, right." She muttered, arriving at her room.

She put away her things, bathed, and crawled into bed. All the while that girl kept creeping into her head. There had been something strange about her, she was slowly realizing. Her energy was off somehow, and that was probably why she couldn't tell if she was a Hunter or not. That notion was highly doubtful, as the girl seemed to be a little dim-witted, but Abigail couldn't bring herself to dwell on it. Sleep was taking ahold of her fast.

Oh, she thought the second before she blacked out, could that be it?

A/N:

Amelia F Jones – Female Alfred F Jones (America)

Abigail Kirkland – Female Arthur Kirkland (England)

Now this is just an idea that popped into my head and wouldn't leave. Now I've written it and posted it and, well, I will work on it but it's not on my priority list. Anyway! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this but please don't expect another update for quite a while. (Or ever /shot). It depends. Thank you once again!