Ceril swirled the pint glass in front of him, passively swirling the honey-colored drink. His mind was numb as his eyes followed the foam that had taken refuge from the edges of the glass in the center of the beer. The drunken clamor around him was deafened by the pounding in his head and the rage in his heart. This was his second glass, the first a few centimeters away from the glass that he was currently trying to down. He was annoyed that he wasn't even buzzed yet (he wasn't ashamed to admit that he was a bit of a lightweight when it came to drinking. Normally a single pint could suit him for an entire night, but he could not numb emotions that had already rendered him numb himself. He raised his glass to take another sip, then took a deep breath.
A swell of emotions came over him again, so many that he could not accurately label which one was currently striking him. Despite his knowledge of the futility of his efforts, he would not yield. He had convinced himself that he would continue drinking until, one way or another, the pain went away. Ceril was so immersed in his emotions that he was physically taken aback by the sensation of a slender, feminine hand sliding down his shoulder. In tow was a familiar woman, one that he had met before.
"What the hell do you want?" He said, in no mood for formality.
"Hm. Mother told me that you would be in a…distressed emotional state. I offer my condolences for the loss of your sister." Her soft, monotonous voice brought her sincerity into question for Ceril, but he didn't care enough to press. He wanted only to be left in solitude once more.
"Why are you here?"
"I come with a proposition, Ceril Tisiphone, and a question."
"Yeah?" Through all the talking, Ceril had not once looked the strange girl's way. He now made a conscious effort of keeping his eyes forward on the spirits cabinet directly in front of him. Ceril raised his glass to his lips and let the cold liquid pass. The glass was placed down not-so-gently in front of him. There, he decided to throw this strange girl a bone and look her way. "Did your mommy send you all this way for that, too? Well, bad news. I'm in no mood to join your little cult. I just cut myself off from another gang, and I'm pretty content with my own god."
"I'll pretend that I didn't hear you refer to our family as a cult, boy. We are children, doing our mother's bidding. If she wishes to refer to our mother as a goddess, rightly so, she is allowed to. You may refer to her as the Snow Queen."
"Yeah, well, I won't refer to her as crap because I don't want anything to do with you. Now, I suggest that you two get out of here, or there's going to be trouble." Ceril bluffed. He was completely alone in the crowded bar, and he was certain no one would back him up if this tense situation went sour. He turned to find a darker individual with an identical hooded cloak that the woman to his right hid under. However, this one seemed all too eager to show his face to Ceril.
His right eye was glossed white, giving Ceril the impression that he was blind. However, his other eye was emerald green with a dark brown outline. The man's face was extremely dark, with black stubble on his chin and the top of his rippled head. Ceril could not see much of his body underneath the violet cloak that seemed to be standard issue among the cultists, but he could tell that where mass had failed him, broad shoulders had not. Ceril eyed him up and down, viewing that he donned worn, tan combat boots. In one look, he could tell that this stranger knew that he was lying.
"I suggest that you be polite to my sister, like I'd hope you'd be to any lady. Go on, Echo. I'm sure that this young man would like nothing more than to hear what you have to say."
Ceril turned back to see a sly smile creeping on the girl Echo's face for just a moment before she began again. "What do you desire most in this world?"
"That's your proposition? Not very much of a conversationalist, are we?" Ceril couldn't help but feel somewhat superior, and briefly considered making a snide comment involving her mother's apron. However, he could feel the bald individual's eyes (Eye. Ceril reminded himself) boring holes (a hole) in the back of his head. "Sorry. What were you saying?" He retracted in his own interest.
"Your greatest desire. What is it?"
"And don't beat around the bush, please." The man behind him instructed.
Ceril wheeled around. "Well, I'm sorry if I can't answer such a philosophical question on the spot. I've got to think about it."
"Or I can for you." Ceril flinched as he felt the woman's hand clasp around the nape of his neck. A chill rushed through his body, his soul, it seemed like. He didn't know how, but Ceril could have sworn that he felt her hands rummaging through the folds of his brain, scouring the deepest recesses of his mind. It was as if she was extracting his greatest fears, his biggest hopes, memories of his sister. "There you are. I've found it, Brother."
She removed her hand from his body, and Ceril shivered, just realizing that all of his body heat had been siphoned off during the duration of the invasion into his mind. "What did you do to me?"
The girl leaned over, close enough that Ceril could feel her warm breath on his ear, and she whispered. "I know what you desire, Ceril Tisiphone. I know what you want in you heart of hearts. Most men want money, power, physical prowess. But you are of a different breed. Yes, you want power, but a different kind. We can help you seek out who has wronged you, make them pay. Grant you all that you wish, for the small price of your allegiance to our mother."
Ceril scoffed, looking forward again. "Well, as tempting as that is, I got to say no. I'm not interested in joining a crew."
"She killed someone you love, didn't she?" An different male voice, behind him again, rasped. Again, Ceril wheeled around in his barstool, eyebrow cocked. "For the love of the gods, how many of you people are there?" Ceril questioned
"She did it, didn't she? Someone you loved trusted her, and she killed them."
A shiver shot down Ceril's spine. How did he know that? No. No, he couldn't be talking about Velvet. He hasn't said a name. Don't jump to conclusions, and don't give these jokers an inch. He stayed silent, but could feel himself stiffening with the rising tension.
"I don't know who you're talking about." He said in a calm tone that even he wasn't convinced by.
"Don't lie, kid. We know what you've been doing, who you've been hanging around with, and what's come of all that. I'm sorry that she hurt you, but I want you to know something: you're not the only one."
"What are you talking about?" Ceril let his guard down slightly.
"I had a son, not that you'd know that. I'd brought him up to be the man I wish I was, and taught him what it meant to protect, to hunt, to save people. His future was bright, before Velvet Scarlatina ran into his life and screwed it up. He told me that she needed help, that I'd be proud of him when he came back. My boy told me to trust me, and I did. He ran after her into those woods. She came out, and he didn't. For a time, I'd forgotten that it even happened, but I ran into someone who brought my memory back. She helped me, then she used me and abandoned me. That was when mother Gaia found me, and gave me a new purpose. She's given me reason to keep going, and I know that I'm not going to get screwed over here. Once Scarlatina's dead, I can rest, I'll get out, and I know that for a fact. I know that I can leave this little family, and you can, too. You get with us, do what we need to do, then we all win. You leave once our work is done, better off than you were before. In the process, you get more than you ever thought you wanted. We'll scratch your back if you scratch ours, essentially. Sound like a good deal? That's because it is. Now," This strange old man stepped forward, narrowing his eyes. "What's it going to be?"
Ceril dipped his head, considering the offer. They already knew everything about him, invading his mind to get there. While the one they called Echo had performed her magic, the other four had taken strategic positions around him. They'd given him no way to escape, but he wasn't sure if he wanted one.
Velvet had dragged him into her chaotic world and took the one thing he treasured away for her own goal. These people were promising him a path to fulfilling his greatest desire, and he knew that there was no way that he could do it on his own. It was an ends to a mean, and he didn't particularly care what happened in-between. He had nothing left, only his abhorrent heart.
He raised his stone-cold eyes to the old man's, and smiled.
(I decided that the fitting tie-in song, an end credits sort of deal to this, was 'Skeletons' by New Year's Day. It really inspired me in terms of direction and mood. Feel free to give a listen!)