As Velvet thrust the great gates open, a rush of chilly air brushed their clothes and a layer of frost coated their hair. Ahead of them, a gentle fog settled over the quiet city, smothering the figures that disappeared into the haze around the crafted buildings of bricked stone and teal banners. A frosted pathway laid bare before them, snaking through the lines of houses at the sidelines as a white carpet to trek. Slopes of cascaded snow relaxed on the sharp roofes as they passed, while their owners simply engaged in conversation under the shadows of cover. The group eventually reached the silent centre under the bleached sun, the pavement of red brick coiling around the stairway to the Hellawes underpass; signalled by the blackened railings iced to the touch.

While they scanned the town during their search, a mass of people seemed to be conversing quite furiously in front a wide building. "There's a group of sailors, is that the guild?" Velvet questioned as the group walked over. Unfortunately, the yaksha's attention was caught elsewhere.

"Oh, hey, that weapon shop looks promising! Good luck with the shipwright search," he cheerfully announced, before grasping their poor malak by the shoulder. "Sarid, you're coming with me!" The white-haired man didn't have a chance to refuse, before he was ripped away from the group and over to the weapon shop.

Magilou sighed with a shrug, "Boys... Poor creatures just can't be seperated from their favourite toys, can they?" she groaned with a humourless smirk.

The remaining daemon frowned and looked off to the gradually freezing ground. "It's true," she grimly whispered. Fortunately, at least one of the last pair could speak sensibly, and stormed over to the bickering group of sailors. However, as Velvet questioned whether or not this was the guild they had been searching for, the man's ramblings reached her far-reaching ears; listening attentively.

"Damn that Dyle! What does he think he's doing trying to resist?" the man shouted angrily. While his temper seemed volatile, the officer at his side was of the same opinion.

"We wouldn't be in this mess if he were dead," the calmer and younger man spat irritably.

The daemon in disguise decided to step up and end their conversation, "Excuse me, I need a ship repaired," she asked with surprising politeness.

"Sorry, but we can't help!" However, they didn't repay her professionalism and wished her away with a sudden scowl; still sour from their issue.

Fighting the urge to let out a tch, Velvet swallowed her emotion and forced her words out smoothly. "What makes you say that?" she asked simply.

"Guild business is currently suspended," a noble and proper voice stated. Turning to face the new arrival, the daemon's eyes narrowed as she spotted that same royal blue on white she remembered so cruelly. "By order of Exorcist Teresa of the Abbey," the woman proudly announced with a flair. This exorcist bore similar colours to every other she had killed, however this one had adorned a long and marvellous dress to accent her wavy blonde hair and emerald eyes. Velvet easily waved off any importance of the person appearing in her memory, until a short shudder of a young boy at Teresa's side caught her attention. It was the same malak from before; soulless green eyes with a messy bundle of blonde hair - accented with a single ahoge pointing up strangely. Another one stayed at her side too, a much more pristeen platinum blonde that was neat around his face, bearing the same lifeless look while he stood.

Suddenly, the boy attempted to speak upon feeling a flash of recognition in his eyes, "Lady Teresa--"

"Number Two, did I give you permission to speak?" she rudely interrupted. The boy gasped out as he realised his stumble, choosing to lay silent at her side.

At her sudden show, the sailors all turned to face the exorcist, sincerity on their faces as lies came from their lips. "Lady Teresa, how long must this punishment of ours last? You know it was all Dyle's fault, don't you, milady?" the man pleaded with a respectful tone. The daemon rolled her eyes at his abrupt change in expression.

Teresa crossed her arms with a stern look, "I know it was Dyle smuggling flamestone, but your guild, through its negligence, shares responsibility," she disregarded. "This rule was set down by the Abbey to maintain order, do you disagree with it?" the woman goaded, waiting for a response.

Upon hearing her strong tone, the sailor lost his backbone immediately, waving his arms desperately. "N-No, milady." The man looked down in sorrow, and regret.

"We will capture, interrogate, and sentence Dyle. When this has been accomplished, you are free to continue business." Velvet tensed her fists in agitation as she let out a grumpy sigh. She had her plans set back, again, by some meaningless trouble. "And you, girl. Aren't you cold dressed like that?" Teresa suddenly questioned, her gaze highlighting the revealing rags that the woman still adorned after her escape.

The daemon gave the exorcist a mild side eye while she quickly prepared her story, "I've just arrived from the South. I never knew Northgand would be so cold.," she complained with mock shivers.

Achoo!

Her sneeze was convincing enough, as the exorcist was simply disappointed at such a decision. "A young woman ought to keep herself warm," she scolded calmly. Velvet still did not look at her fully, whether it would be better for her, or the exorcist's wellbeing.

Stifling another groan at her act, the daemon finished up quickly. "Thanks for your concern," she said sniverly, much to Teresa's appreciation. With a dainty nod, the exorcist ambered away; two malakhim in tow.

From her uncomfortable seat on the frozen stairs nearby, the witch's ambiguous expression suddenly erupted into a mischievous grin as she jolted up from her position. "My, my. So, this is how the Abbey flexes its muscle these days, hm? Cruel, cruel world we live in," she murmured with a lifted hand. The daemon ignored her, instead choosing to turn back to the ship guild with a proposal.

"I see how things stand. If I catch this 'Dyle' person, you can repair my ship, right?" she questioned with a hand on her chin. The shipwright before her shifted on his feet as the exorcist left, a hesitant look on his face.

However, he quickly straightened himself under her patient stare, "Sure, but I warn you... he's a daemon. He escaped after killing a bunch of soldiers who tried to capture him," he answered urgently. "Can't be done without an exorcist."

Nonetheless, the officer at his side spoke up to give more information. "He's from a small village outside the city, if you're doing this, I imagine that's a good place to start searching," the younger man recommended. "He's a brute with the head of a lizard. I'd prepare for bloodshed," he seriously explained, obviously seeking to resolve this as soon as possible.

"Hey!" The sailor didn't seem to take kindly to his partner divulging important information.

"Anything could happen, so it's best to keep our options open," he whispered earnestly. As they finished their quiet chat that Velvet could still easily hear, they turned back to her with a confirming nod. Now it was time to get everyone back together, although the daemon was sure to remind them about locating a navigator for their ship while they waited.

When Magilou finally hopped back on step with the brooding woman, they started their walk over to where the boys were last headed. "Hmm, I wonder what darling Rokurou and Sarid have been doing in the meantime," she wondered aloud.

Let's check up on them at the weapons shop," Velvet stated, heaving a minor sigh as the witch began skipping ahead like a child.

Back to when the two men left to scour tools of the city, Rokurou was visibly pushing the half-malak forward with a grin as they approached the shop. Sarid, on the other hand, just placed a exhausted palm on his face as he let the daemon drag him. "C'mon, Sarid! This is our chance to actually get away from those two and look at something actually interesting," he exclaimed brightly, casting a curious gaze over the blank man. "Besides, I want to get your opinion on some weapons," he explained with a gleam behind his dark bangs.

Sarid chuckled nervously, "Rokurou, I've told you before, I don't have much knowledge on weapons," he attempted to sway his interest.

However, the samurai let out a jovial laugh as if the malak had just told him the greatest joke he'd heard in a long time. "You're joking. Those blades you've got? Some of the best craftsmanship I've seen," he excitedly assessed with a proud grin. But, the grin died a little as he went over the image in his head. "Actually, they did seem a little dull." Rokurou's hand gripped his chin in thought, stopping him in his tracks.

In that moment, the half-malak steadily moved his hand of his shoulder and went to explain. "They were my father's, I never learned to properly take care of them, so I rarely used them," he blankly expressed.

"That explains it. Well, your father must've been quite the warrior, I'd love to fight him someday!" the samurai joyfully said, unaware of the grim face his comrade wore.

"He's gone, Rokurou."

The daemon immediately realised his mistake - but instead of verbally apologising - Rokurou bowed his head sincerely and stood unmoving for a moment, his ponytail flowing in the soft winds.

Sarid just shook his head with a smile, "Don't worry about it. Let's just get this done," he said with honesty, before patting the still bowing daemon on the back. "You couldn't have known, besides, we all have our secrets, right?" he spoke with a slowly growing grin. Rokurou looked up, and his expression exploded into a beaming glow of a toothy grin closed eyes. "I could tell, he was the strongest person I had known." For the first time since they had met, the samurai saw a moment of true peace relax onto his companion's features; like a weight was lifted from his shoulders.

Velvet and Magilou approached the indebted stall, sighting a pair of figures conversing with the keeper that resided within. Entering their general area, one of them turned with a small smile and wave; blanched sides ruffling in the shrill cries of air, while his compact outfit stood resolute in the cool weather. Noticing his companion's divided attention, the armed figure at his side turned with a smirk of his own - soft sunset kimono contrasting the monochrome city - as he flaunted his daggers that rested in his hands. "I've found some good ones!" Rokurou excitedly exclaimed.

As they eventually reached the pair, Velvet glanced at the blades he displayed. In his palms, lay two fairly simple daggers. A comfortable wrapped grip was present in both for ease of use, while it's sparklingly sharp edge was hued a beautiful amber; akin to the soothing robes he wore that flapped in the biting wind.

"The blade was badly rusted, but thanks to Sarid's advice, I polished it up. It turned out to have a fine edge," he pleasantly recalled with a dangerous smile.

The weapon dealer leaned over the messy desk. "I can scarcely believe something of that quality was languishing in my bargain bin," he stated with a disappointed hum. The man peered over to the foreign-looking man at his stall who carefully surveyed the blades. "You've taught me quite a lesson. The weapon is yours as payment," he kindly offered.

The samurai didn't even look surprised, but let an appreciative look come over his eyes. "My thanks."

Soon after, the dealer swapped his gaze to the quiet man who had arrived with the daemon, who didn't even take a considerate look over his wears. "So, young man, anything I can do for you?" Sarid turned quickly after being called upon, and just as he went to speak, a flicker of thought flashed over his face. Digging into his pouch, the half-malak procured a single blade from it and lay it on the desk.

"Do you make your own goods?" Sarid questioned, a plan revolving in his head if so.

The keeper smiled with a nod, banging his chest with pride, "That I do, son, There's a smithy just at the back of my shop. Do you have an order?" he asked politely, a pleasant grin on his face. Sarid raised the blade he revealed, the delicate craftsmanship glinting in the chidden light, as the three-prongs reflected his comfortable expression. Even the weapon dealer was fairly surprised at the blade, "That's quite a weapon there, the quality is magnificent," he assessed with interest, scouring over every little incredible detail.

Sarid's face hardened slightly, "Can you replicate it as best you can, sir?"

The merchant's face dropped. "I appreciate the thought, but I don't think I could ever match something like tha--"

He was interrupted.

Clink!

A fairly hefty bag was suddenly dropped onto the desk, sending a mild rattle over the resources it held. "Four thousand gald is in this bag, and I can get another thousand if necessary for the resources," the half-malak abruptly offered, pulling back a smile at the smith's baffled expression. Just around him, the group's attention swiftly focused on the words he just said. Specifically, a certain witch felt her smile dry as she realised the amount he had. Sarid continued to negotiate with a gentle look, "Oh, I don't need it to be perfect, just get the formation right and make the blade ready to cut. I'll take care of the rest," he stated politely.

"...How many do you need?" the merchant asked as he recovered from his shock.

"Just four."

The dealer's mouth opened to question it, until he looked closer at the weapon's design. "...Of course. This is a throwing knife. Quite elegant, if I say so myself..." he murmured. Sarid rose a single brow. "If you need four, I'll need that extra thousand upon collection. Plus, i'll need to borrow that one for comparisons sake. I'd say that's a fair trade."

The half-malak's face blossomed into one of happiness and thankfulness, and he shook the dealer's outstretched hand. "No problem. I guess they'll be done by tomorrow?" he presumed, receiving a joyful nod in response. Before he left, Sarid took one more glance at the dealer gathering materials, sight steady on his reliable kunai. "...Don't lose that, alright?" he sternly requested, to which the keeper grinned nervously; disappearing from sight and into the opening of his smithy.

Turning back around to face the waiting group, all he caught was incredulous stares. And, a raging gremlin shaking his vest aggressively as she shouted out for an explanation. "Five thousand gald!? When were you so rich, Sarid!? Have you been holding out on me? Here i am, a sorceress of insurmountable legend, and you can't spare a single coin?!" Magilou's agitated berating rumbled his ears, finding it hard to actually focus on her words.

"Magilou." Velvet's cold warning cut through her unintelligible ramblings, immediately stopping the rigorous shaking. As the witch stepped away with a sly smile, the daemoness approached with a harsh stare, the half-malak finding himself unable to move. "...Where did you get all that gald?" Her simple words were more harsh than an entire speech of Magilou's furious shouting.

Sarid raised his hands with a sweat-drop, steeling his words that were soon to come from his mouth in a low volume. "I'm a criminal now, right? So, looting bodies isn't the worst we've done," he stated quietly, finally gaining a surprised look on the daemon's face. "Exorcists get paid quite a bit, I find." With a small smirk, he stepped around the woman and walked away from the stall where the others waited. As he left, he could hear an irritated sigh come from Velvet as she tightened her fist once again.

Rokurou stroked his chin as the malak approached - an open smirk on his face - pleasantly surprised by such a thing. "Well, I can't even be annoyed, why didn't I think of that?" The samurai inwardly punched himself, his money troubles now partly his own fault. However, no matter the circumstances, nothing could quell the waterfall of fake tears that Magilou wrought, as she doubled over in shame.

Sarid couldn't hold back the proud smile that curved up his mouth, "I'm not as naive as you'd think," he proclaimed. Until, an arm batted his spine, causing his smile to seize up and vanish.

"But you're getting on my nerves," The daemon's stern warning was loud and and clear, as she stepped up next to the rest of them while Sarid groaned in discomfort. "Anyway..." Velvet began, "I guess that means you're helping us out?"

The samurai crossed his arms with a grin, "Of course," he said with a nod to the aching half-malak. Switching his gaze back to the daemoness, his eyes grew serious. "How did your errand fare?"

A few minutes later of explaining the situation, Rokurou and Sarid stood side by side, both deep in thought. The samurai started first, "I see. So, we're hunting a daemon called Dyle, are we?"

he began with a contemplative smirk.

"We'll check out his hometown first," Velvet monotonously asserted, placing a hand on her hip.

Sarid held his chin as he thought over the plan, "If he's killed some soldiers, we may have a trail to follow," he concluded with a grimace.

Suddenly, Magilou spun around on her heel and whipped her hands behind her shoulders. "Have fun, you kids!"

"You're not coming along?" Rokurou questioned with a slightly confused look.

"I'm afraid I've got bigger fish to fry at the moment-- that little matter of tracking down my betrayer," she explained with an uncaring shrug. Magilou suddenly summoned a fiendish smirk with her next words, "Besides, if I stick around, I'm not so sure I wouldn't wind up as someone's midnight snack," she joked with a lidded gaze aiming at the cloaked daemon.

Pulling back a scowl, Velvet fired back; "My palette has standards. High standards," she coldly stated.

"All the more reason to skedaddle!" the witch delightfully sang, prancing off into the unyielding mix of wind and haze.

Velvet turned with a growl, momentarily setting her sights on the two boys who stood idly by, "Let's get going then," she ordered, immediately turning - without a second glance - to stalk through the steady hustle of the gradually populating city streets. Once again, as residents went about their day, she could easily gather bouts of information from careless speakers with her hearing. Once again, all her senses could gather was the endless praises of the stern and strong Abbey, and their valiant excorcists. And once again, the never-ending ruthless ridicule of daemon's and their lack of humanity. 'Not human... huh?' she mused to herself in wonder. She wouldn't dispute such allegations, however, she would gladly tear apart this city if it stood in her way.

But first, they needed a certain lizard's assistance, and she'll bring him back in pieces if necessary.

The sea raged against its rocky cage, the thrilling winds beating the walls in a repetitive defiant echo throughout the shrill lands of white. Gradually, a soft crunch grew from the dark of a cave, and out came a figure clad in a similar blackness. Velvet surveyed the wrathful weather that caressed her onyx mane, the biting cold not being detected on her fair skin revealed to the open air. Her golden orbs rolled impatiently, as out stumbled a contrasting bundle of white from where she emerged. Sarid shook the smudges of snow adorning his clothes and nesting in his hair - adjusting the tied headband as spiked strands laid barely over it - and similarly scanned their environment with his sharp cerulean eyes. Their final member sauntered out with a smirk, his orange iris contrasting the evil glow of his hidden eye that stared through his dark strands. Rokurou hummed with thought as the screaming winds displaced the serenity of the North.

Heading outwards, the trio shuffled through the snow towards a hanging snag of vines and moss that had helpfully grown down the wall from an outcrop shortcut. The half-malak went first, swiftly lunging up the vines with practiced precision - a twinge of envy shooting across Rokurou's mind - and was up within seconds. The samurai grinned with confidence as he welcomed the inner contest, before he jumped onto the vines. His face instantly fell with worry, as his hands slipped from the grassy mass steadily. Rokurou's grip tightened harshly, freezing only a quarter of the way up the makeshift ladder. The daemoness groaned with irritation, before walking over with a grumble.

Pouncing up and over, Velvet landed fairly with a shake of her now white-tipped veil of hair. She sighed as she bent back down over the cliffside, and with a harsh thrash; came a flying Rokurou from the slippery vines. He landed roughly but safely, brushing down his protective sunset kimono. The samurai flashed a clean grin at the expressionless daemon. Velvet stalked past, wrenching him along with a firm grasp towards the waiting malakhim.

Soon reaching the other side of the shortcut, they all leapt down with a crunch onto the crisp blanket. They found themselves looking right at the exorcist patrol; which had thankfully been overcome with travelling visitors and traders. The gate now holding a group of diverse characteristics, it allowed the criminals to show themselves with caution. "Nothing more than ice and snow, as far as the eye can see," the male daemon assessed with a calculative glance.

"Are you cold?" Velvet questioned dispassionately, ignoring the incredulous look cast her way from a shivering half-malak.

At her words, Rokurou turned with a mischievous gleam in his eye, "I'm fine," he simply said. "But I'm not the one with the exposed midriff." The samurai smirked as their comrade's gaze lit up with a bubbling annoyance.

Sarid face-palmed with a stupefied groan.

"Doesn't bother me either... and watch where your eyes wander," she sternly warned with a harsh glare; folding her arms over her chest.

The samurai raised his arms disarmingly, eyes still lit up in amusement. "Hey there, sorry. I meant no offence." His hand grasped his chin in sudden thought, "Hmm. So, you still retain feelings like shame, then."

The half-malak finally decided to speak up, as the topic in general caught his interest, "You daemons lose your emotions?" he questioned with a confused tone. Rokurou snapped his fingers as Sarid interjected, seemingly remembering something.

"Oh yeah, not a daemon," he appraised with an obvious smile and fiendish eyes that switched between the malak and the still baffled Velvet. "But, I'm guessing your different for some reason," he guessed, looking to Velvet as she peered back with a raised brow.

"Wait, you don't feel?"

"Me? I've lost a lot of my human feelings. I figured that was part of turning into a daemon," he surprisingly thought.

Velvet's mind whirled with thoughts, many streaking back to that fateful burst of light that changed her life. "I didn't know that..." she attested with a contemplative gaze.

"But, deep down, I'm still the same person I always was." Rokurou cracked his signature wolfish grin. "And I can still enjoy a good drink. I'm glad I haven't lost that, at least."

"If you say so..."

The samurai locked onto the malak who once again surveyed the area as they conversed, "Hey, Sarid. We need to catch a drink sometime, I haven't done that in a while," he joyfully beamed. The half-malak scratched his head, his reason fighting with his emotion on whether or not he should hang out with a daemon.

"I'm not really a drinker of alcohol, I couldn't afford to be," he mysteriously added.

Rokurou just shrugged with a smirk, "Well, we can change that! Come on, it'll be great to have a drinking buddy," he loudly reasoned. Sarid just sighed, and reluctantly accepted his offer for another time, much to the samurai's glee.

As Rokurou stomped off into the blistering white, Sarid felt a shoulder roughly bump into his; the other daemon treading past easily. Velvet barely glanced back as she spoke coldly, "You especially watch where you look." With no more to be said, she continued after the travelling daemon ahead, while Sarid stood there with a deadpan expression.

'Just because I have emotion doesn't mean...!' He inwardly stopped with a sigh, soon following in the footsteps that marked their way through the howling winds.

Splat!

A giant bug-like daemon catapulted to the floor, encased in its vile viridescent blood, as it had been split in two by Velvet's sudden lunge. As it fell, she paid no attention to its gradually decomposing corpse while she scoured for her comrades. Suddenly, a werewolf flew right over to her in a mass of volatile miasma. The daemoness leapt away with a single bound and unveiled her wristblade once again; only for the beast to not move as it lay lifeless on the ground. A single kunai was stuck out of its back.

Whoosh!

Sarid appeared on top of it, ripping out his blade with a grunt.

Velvet shook her head, concealing her weapon back in her wrist as she turned to find their samurai. Another werewolf shot out of the haze with a snarl, heading towards the pair. This time she didn't move. The monster stopped only a foot away with a squeal; a pair of glistening amber daggers pointed out from its stomach. Until, they tore upwards, ending the daemon's life in a fountain of gore and writhing blight. Velvet sighed in mild exasperation as ivory rained down on her, staining her clothes and sticking in her hair. 'This is going to be a pain to clean out,' she surmised as she cleared her face of scarlet smudges.

"Sorry about that, Velvet!" Rokurou called out from behind its corpse, his blades also bring torn out of its battle-torn carcass.

Sarid's footsteps approached, "The town is nearby, but there's very few people the--" He stopped as he looked at the daemoness. The blood over her didn't disturb him, no.

"What is it?" she asked firmly, wiping the trail of crimson from around her lips as she swallowed. The half-malak heaved a shaky sigh as he remembered who stood before him.

"...Nothing." He cleared his mind of the sight. "The town is fairly small, and there is someone fighting outside," he quickly summarised. The samurai peeked his head over in interest, before heading over to the talking pair.

Velvet crossed her arms, "Well, we better hurry. Don't want our information to go so quickly," she uncaringly said; sauntering off into the direction that the town resided. As the repetitive sound of squashed snow signalled their approach, a battle raged on in the cone of their vision. Great wooden doors interrupted the hillsides natural progression, but it appeared beaten and worn. Outside, a few daemonic bodies lay silently in the wallowing snow - having been dealt with rather efficiently. A cry echoed throughout the white mountains, until another body of a werewolf careened over to them. Again. Velvet's brows furrowed before she back-handed the flying corpse to the side; becoming enveloped in the ever falling ice.

A rapid heave of exhaustion came from before them, most likely the person that had caused all this. Velvet's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she scanned who stood ahead, their body shaking with fatigue. The figure was a young woman; with light skin, green eyes, and reddish hair, and bore a long polearm which she had presumably used to dispatch the daemons. What caught her eye, was the pale gold dress and dark blue overcoat. Colours of the Abbey.

"Thank god I was here, any further attacks, and..." she whispered in uncertainty and worry, too caught up to see what Velvet had done. Her voice was soft and innocent, accented by the complete lack of blood adorning any accent of her clothing. Her face contorted in sorrow, as she closed her eyes. It appeared she was trying swallow her emotion for the people.

Rokurou grasped his chin in thought, as he stared at the lifeless daemon that slowly bloodied the ground. "An Exorcist. Was that Dyle she slew?"

"Unless their information was incorrect, no. That was a werewolf, not a lizard," Sarid explained with a contemplative face, as the daemoness nodded in confirmation.

The exorcist looked up at the spectators, her face seizing up as she took in their forms. "Are you... crying?" Velvet's disbelieving tone struck her like an arrow, as she found herself scrambling to reinforce her image. The exorcist wiped her emerald eyes in earnest, attempting to clear the stinging sensation in vain.

"It's just... everything that's going on," her tone was irresolute, as she quivered in place. "Daemons run rampant in the outlands, and yet the Abbey has explicitly chosen not to come to their aid." The woman began to rant, seemingly only attempting to convince herself. "It's true we haven't the forces to be everywhere at once, and that the people of the outlands refuse to obey the Abbey's rules... It's a heartless decision, I know, but it follows the Abbey's perfect logic and principle." The shaking in her eyes was gone, as it seemed she managed to convince herself of her honor yet again.

However, it didn't matter at all to the people she was talking at. "Why make excuses to me?" Velvet hissed quietly with a tired sigh.

"I'm not making--!" The exorcist gasped as she only just caught on to the people who stood before her.

"Sorry, miss," Sarid began as he shifted to his polite demeanour. "Is anything the matter? We just want to pass through," he diligently requested, while the daemon at his side just shook her head and looked off to the side.

The exorcist quickly gained her bearings and took proper posture, as she readied herself to explain. "I am Eleanor Hume. I am a praetor patrolling for the Abbey. What business do you have here?" she perfectly recited with a fist firmly planted on her chest, ignoring his question completely.

"Um, I just--"

Velvet raised her left hand, and the man stopped. "We heard there was a murderous daemon in this town who fled from Hellawes," she explained blankly.

Eleanor looked towards the ground slowly, as she recalled the information. "The shipping guild incident, yes, I've been looking into it. But, I haven't found any clues yet." Her face turned resilient at the mere mention of her task, "Worry not. We will track down this daemon and put it the sword." The exorcist nodded with conviction, until she finally took notice of their affected attire. "My word! What happened? Are any of you hurt?!" The now bloody cloth staining their apparel was fairly eye-catching, it seemed.

Velvet just pointed a single thumb back towards the half decomposed body of the werewolf she had slain.

Following her directions, Eleanor gasped out again in shock, raising a hand over her mouth. "I'm terribly sorry, I did my best to be as cleanly as possible," she exclaimed with a hurried bow.

"It's fine, it's fine. Look, you've got other duties, right?" Sarid started, attempting to calm down the exorcist. "Then get going, we'll take care of this," he finished. Even after his constant repeating, the women wouldn't dare leave before giving another one thousand apologies.

At last, Eleanor looked up with everlasting surprise, tears beginning to pool once again as she calmed. "...You're right, I shall take my leave." She gathered herself and turned to trod out into the icecaps. "I'm terribly sorry, travelers!" the girl exclaimed, before hurrying off into the whiteness.

After the exorcist finally left the scene, the tension in the group relaxed, and they all sighed at once. "At least one of us can pass off as normal," Rokurou assessed with a smirk. "Glare at her any harder, and she would've fainted on the spot." The samurai grinned over at the ravenette's calous look.

"You can come out now." Sarid suddenly spoke to the open air, confusing his two comrades. A sudden yelp and fumble into a heap of snow came from the foliage, as a fallen child peaked out from the accident she had.

"...Did the exorcist lady go away?" The young girl asked, nervously approaching the group after brushing off the blemishes of snow she had carried. Sarid smiled kindly and innocently as the child approached. However, he inwardly panicked at her show; 'A child!? I'm no good at dealing with children...' He looked to the daemoness, who faced away entirely, completely ignoring her existence. He then looked to the samurai, who similarly held a welcoming smile as they approached. 'Oh, thank god,' he laughed to himself; trying his best to ignore the swat he recieved on his arm as he did.

"Yeah, she's gone," Rokurou responded calmly, placing his arms on his hips as she stood before him.

"Oh, good. I didn't want any of us to get eaten--" she suddenly froze up as she spoke.

"Eaten?" Velvet's cold voice took away all her nerve, making the child take a step back.

Swat

She glared at the perpetrator as she felt a hand smack her arm childishly.

"I-I mean, I dont know anything about a daemon!" she erratically said, slightly trembling with worry.

The samurai knelt down next to the frightened child, "It's fine, you can tell me. I can keep it a secret," he honestly spoke with a smile.

Eventually, Sarid followed the daemon's example and crouched down with his kindest smile and pure eyes as calm as the settled sea. "Yeah, we won't ever tell anyone. That nasty daemon won't hurt others ever again," he sincerely assured.

The young girl visibly brightened at the more friendly looking man of the two - causing a slight crack to appear in Rokurou's pleasant exterior - and she readied herself to tell. "...There's s lizard daemon in a cave to the North," she hesitantly relayed. "He said he'd eat the whole village up if I told anyone," she stated in instant sorrow and regret. Suddenly, her face blew in realisation. "I'll give you these," she hopped on the spot before pulling out two glistening red apples from her bag. "Don't tell anyone, alright?!" The girl swiftly handed the pair to Sarid, who recieved them with a grateful expression.

"Don't worry, we promised didn't we?"

The girl nodded rapidly, before she quickly scampered off back to her town. Sarid stood up with the apples in hand, while Velvet waited in thought. An apple abruptly went flying her way, which she caught without issue. After casting a questioning glance to the man who had thrown it, she appraised it silently in the cold air, while the half-malak gifted the other to the thankful samurai. "A cave to the North, huh?" the daemoness mused in silence.

"Gotta say, folks here really don't trust the exorcists, do they?" Rokurou said as he looked out to the bristling leaves of dying nature.

"Hmm, I guess someone here wants to play pretend," Velvet coldly hissed as she looked over at the standing Sarid; who still watched the closed gates with a concentrated look.

For some reason, her words made him flinch slightly despite the harsh cold, and he looked over his shoulder with an icy glare. "Just because I'm with you daemons doesn't mean I'm heartless," he firmly asserted without thinking.

Rokurou let out a silent sigh, while Velvet blankly stared; a hundred thoughts washing over her conscious in a second as her fist instinctually tightened.

The half-malak immediately realised his mistake. He let out a heavy sigh, "Look, I didn't mean that, alr--"

"Let's just go," Velvet cut him off, a dark veil over her unidentifiable expression. Before he could even respond, her apple came flying back over her shoulder and into his open hand. Rokurou, a grim face over his humourless smile, laid a gentle hand on his shoulder as she left, while Sarid's attention was elsewhere. Only one single bite was taken out of the apple.

Velvet stormed in the direction of her goal through thick snow and unyielding winds, cursing in her mind as she licked her still apple-coated lips. Her tastebuds felt nothing.