The sun glowered from distant skies, its ever shining gaze beginning to falter, as this heavenly body steadily sank downwards over the horizon. As its weary glare fell to a glint below soothing blue ablaze, the chorus of shuffling steps scraping upon coloured, patterned stone clicked over the city centre. Light fading ever swifter above this faithful capital, the tireless group approached the tavern with the mumbles of conversation breaking the silent courtyard square.
Clicking in a stretch and a rushing exhale, the Samurai grinned gleefully as he plodded along, "What a fight!" Rokurou erupted, smirking as the man recounted their battled. "Although, still nothing compared to that code red daemon!" Air rumbled with his satisfied chuckles. "The Abbey wasn't lying, those really are some special opponents."
"Either way, we dealt with it quickly," the Reaper affirmed, arms crossed. "But don't let your guard down, they'll only get stronger from here on."
Nevertheless, the yaksha was prideful and proud, the pumping adrenaline of battle fuelling every tank of energy. "I said I'd protect you, didn't I Velvet? You won't have to worry with me around."
Scowling at the front, the daemoness in question blew off his act with a dismissive wave, "I already said, I didn't ask for your protection."
Rokurou remained undeterred, his warrior heart unable to fade, no matter the blighted skin it resides underneath. "You don't have to!"
"When did you become a gentleman?" A voice playfully mocked with a crooked brow at his side. Laughter pushing forth, the Samurai stepped to the side of the teetering half-malak, budging cloaked shoulders as Rokurou fiendishly stroked his chin in theoretical thought.
"Well, I expected you to be the prim and proper one there, Sarid," he stated with a lidded gaze, as the next words ripped the smirk from the man's face. "Urgh, be careful everyone, stay vigilant and I'll protect you, ergh." To top it all off, the goading warrior finished his mockery with a fake, choking cough, leaning back and away as it turned into a covered snicker.
Having all sense of humour swiped from his expression, the unfortunate man looked on blankly. This dire look only worsened, as the timid yet sharp giggles of the young malak aside, began to ring his eardrums. "...You don't need to ask," he lowly relented with a roll of eyes, at which Eizen huffed a chuckling exhale.
"As if."
Eventually, Velvet's boots clacked upon stone one last time as she turned with an inquisitive look, embroidered by mild irritation. "Since when were you all friends?" she asked with tapping annoyance.
Sarid sank slightly, a steady blow of exhaustion already seeping through moreso from the unending chatter of these misfits. "I wouldn't quite say 'friends'..." he mumbled dryly, the grip over scabbard increasing with abrupt force as the Samurai dumped a heavy hand upon his back with a wolfish grin.
"Welp, you're stuck with us!"
"...Permission to change my mind and leave?"
Catching the simmering glint of mixed emotion under violet, the daemoness huffed with a flicking palm and stepped towards the tavern doors.
"Denied."
Laconic, Velvet relished in the further groan of annoyance already shifted for the half-breed to bear with her rejection.
Dusted winds shrouded rooftops, a thin veil to the dusk that now slithered throughout trails of settlements, only encompassing the warmth of the welcoming Inn as the daemon's shredded shadow passed between creaking doors. With the daylight to scorn their contracts falling, the precipice of night came to signal each one's completion; much to the impression of the tavern owner.
After the chaotic withdrawal wrought from their dockyard escapade, thankfully did the final two contracts go without issue. Travelling along the lifeblood of trade, the adventuring group had soon passed into Galles Lake, and warred tooth and nail through the malevolent creatures parading it's waterlogged grasslands and glistening reservoirs. Even coming across an infamous Code Red daemon resting in its dense patches; soon brought to an endless rest at their leader's corrupted hand. Locating their target - Mendi - the bruised and battered prisoner was found working cruelly into nearby rock, at the behest of two skilled sellswords.
Once their flesh had been rendered, and malakhim savagely devoured, the fatigued target relayed their goal; where he had been forced to mine highly addictive vermillion ore to refine into a medicinal substance, known as Nectar.
Promptly, the crew were assured of their success and that the weary prisoner could return home safe, and not far behind did they begin their unyielding trek towards the next contract.
Located just at the branching pathway to Danann Highway, did they foil the ambush commenced by a malicious horde of gibbon daemons. And, as their violent demands were splintered with their pooling carcasses - remains only signalled by crimson scarfs - the abandoned supplies were direct copies of that they had reduced to ash. Countless bottles of gleaming azure resided within, decored by the familiar seal of the Cathedral.
Nonetheless, the job was done, and the group ambled in at Velvet's heel to the Owner's growing glee; the familiar smoky scent and the soothing lamplight casting shadows to glance from their approach. "Welcome back. That must have been hard work," the lady praised with a nod of affirmation. "How does mabo curry sound to you? I also have our specialty peach pie on hand..."
Even as the small Laphicet steadily grew in excitement at her trailing words, the ice cold tone of a daemoness halted it immediately. "We had a deal. Spill it," she demanded, glaring through the Owner's kind and hospitable exterior. Even still, the lady's chuckles slipped out in the face of Velvet's stern and unwavering expression.
"Shepherd Artorias has gone north. Up the Danann Highway, at the Abbey's newest temple: the Empyrean's Throne. He is expected to be there for a while."
"Are they relocating there?" the Samurai asked, watching with a contemplative hand on his chin.
"In a sense, yes. They're holding a ritual to move the seat of the Empyrean Innomniat."
Velvet's arms crossed with a clinkle of chains, "Innomniat," she muttered lowly; sight cast away in the haze of her thoughts. Golden eyes arose, "In other words, the Abbey's new god."
"I imagine he won't be caught alone," Sarid assumed, looking on firmly at this sudden anomaly in their plan.
"You'd be right, this is a very serious affair. So, I can predict Melchior will be there, along with other high exorcists."
Eizen's teal pearls lit up at this, nodding in understanding and acceptance, "Suits us just fine." Ting, the coin flipped through the humming candlelight, back into his palm.
Rokurou's eyes narrowed in acquisition, the target floating and clear in his mind, "I might even find him there..."
"That will do," the daemoness stated with a nod of gratitude, the info proving useful in their outrageous goal. "Somewhere in there we'll find a chance to strike."
"Perhaps... But be aware security near the Throne is on high alert."
"We'll manage to get through." The woman's unbridled determination was as strong as ever.
"No, you won't." Unfortunately, some things couldn't be rattled from power alone. "You may be able to fool the guards, but there's no tricking the barrier they've put up. They've used artes to erect a giant wall, keeping outsiders away."
At this proclamation, Velvet's knuckle hovered near face in thought, brain jumping to various theories and conclusions like arcing lightning. And, this sharpened mind came to one thoughtful assumption with fair ease; "But they have to go through themselves. That implies some sort of key, right?"
"Yes. In fact, one of our people is looking into that as we speak, however, I'm afraid..."
A presumptuous chuckle, dry and thin, "It'll cost us," the Therion guessed with knowing eyes.
"You learn quickly," the old lady praised with a devilish smile of her own. "And here's the bill." Once again, faded parchment flapped out from underneath the bar, sliding along its perfectly marred face to propose the crew's final job. And, as the daemon's fingers flipped its face from the bygone slip, the collective group zeroed in upon the eloquent enscription. Until, the weight of the words inked through the yellowed paper settled onto them in realisation.
Assassinate High Priest Gideon of the Midgand Cathedral.
"Okay, now we're REALLY not being nice," the Samurai stated with a hint of shock at the abrupt escalation.
"You know, I was joking about the assassination part..." the half-malak groaned out, already tightening the straps upon his assortment of blades, expectant.
Velvet, undeterred, passed the important slip into one of the back pockets that remained unscathed. "Consider it done."
"Aren't you going to ask why you have to kill a high priest?"
"I imagine it's because he's the one controlling the Nectar supply," she stated, confident in the conclusion garnered from these clues. "The Church, is the sole producer and distributor of a highly addictive substance." The prisoner, held captive, mining vermillion ore to refine it into Nectar. Sellswords, bought out by the church itself, to keep them producing. "They rake in huge profits, while the common man, along with your people, suffer for it." The ambush, 'doctors', distributing the Nectar to people in need, attacked by addicted residents in need of their supply that soon fell under daemonblight. Each one adorning the same scarlet scarf, worn by the tavern keeper at the lady's side. Their people. "Does that cover it?"
"You noticed your tasks were related."
Velvet turned, staring dead into the Owner's silver orbs, as the group stood off proudly. "That was the real test, wasn't it?" Her sudden assumption struck an impressed chord within the lady, as she smiled.
"And you passed. No matter how skilled you are, you have to know more than how to swing a sword to gain my trust."
"Don't misunderstand my intentions," the ravenette spat with a dangerous glare, arms sharply crossed. "I'm willing to do anything, if it brings me to Artorias."
Velvet looked on, vacant and accepting of the consequences. Irises aureate, finally subdued in its voided stare.
"I ditched my scabbard long ago."
Behind, the standard grip imposed upon such equipment, hardened with an understanding grimace.
Sighing, the lady allowed the statement to simmer as she frowned at the crude declaration. "...I see. So, you are the embodiment of a bare blade." Eyes closed, the moment passed as it settled, and a gloved hand pressed upon her chest with proper respect for those before. "A more formal introduction is in order. I am Tabatha Baskerville, leader of the Bloodwing Butterflies."
"Velvet." Hardened in seriousness, the daemon's stern expression folded through again. "Tell me about the high priest."
"Each evening, he prays for protection from calamity at the royal villa on the Castle Loegres grounds. Tradition holds that the high priest should be left alone for the prayer. That would seem the best time to strike."
"You know, I don't think we're allowed into churches..."
The golden glance shut the remarking half-breed up fairly quickly.
"How do we get into the villa?"
Another document. Sliding out onto the bar, a small booklet, endowed with a crimson and gold wing insignia sat over its surface. "Carry this insignia with you, and allies of the Bloodwings will lend you their aid." Show it to any members that adorn a red scarf, easy.
"We'll hold up our end. Just find out about that key."
~~~
Washing over the starkly lit city, bolstered with the valiant walls erected to the clouds above, was the great night pouring into its dark crevices. A clear and distinct blanket, curtain or veil to shield the shadows from ever being witnessed under the malicious glare of the devilish moon above. She knew, even as its perpetual innocent gaze bore through dusted windows and creaking crevices, it only took one bloodstained moment; to dye its shimmering light crimson, and unveil the malignant beast beneath.
Velvet found familiarity in the solstice of the blazing sun on nights like these, where she could only allow that whitened celestial body to stare for so long, before that gilded glare snapped away, once again. With another rising bout of dispassion to hurl the mind with a splitting headache, she released a withering sigh as her palm rested atop the mane of black. Pounding, beating heart - war drum - only thumping a numbing pain on her mind. She could barely think.
"Uh, Velvet, are you okay?" Another spark of innocence, as Laphicet plodded to her lonely side that sat casually upon the furthest bar chair in desired isolation. Her arm twitched, and she could barely glance at the boy.
A despairing, snaking rush burrowed deep within her gut, slithering beneath the skin and digging its blighted tendrils deeper. That empty gold glared to the side, funneling upon the dried ivory that lay cracked and speckled under her worn nails. Frowning, she turned away from the remnants of the craving mistake. It twitched again, and Velvet's eyes narrowed irritably. Until, the waiting eyes of twinkling verdant continued their patient yet concerned stare, and so the daemoness twisted on her seat, facing away. "It's... nothing."
"But, you seem..."
"I said it's nothing!"
The clenched palm wound around the coiling dark strands tightened further, as Laphicet flinched away to the side of the ignorant Samurai nearby. And far off, the subconscious corrupted hand had snatched a ornate hilt with the sudden rush of alarm blaring deep, before relaxing with a sad, realising smile; violet peering away into the warm candlelight, as the slightest of scarlet droplets rolled from his lips. Veins tingled and ached, with the silent survivor grimacing as his fingertips traced the pulsing scarlet lines tentatively creeping up his hidden bicep. Just another day.
"Sneaking into the castle will be an all-night job. Let's take the time to get ready and have a short rest, we'll need it." Rokurou's fair warning of safety and preparation reached the ears of each member who resided within the tavern, and the unanimous agreement was announced in silence. Velvet, muttering the typical impassive compliance, slammed an unnoticed and weary smack onto the ominous bandaged limb with a sharp inhale, before she finally thrust herself from the seat and off clicking among varnished floorboards towards the dark above.
~~~
"We know for a fact that Captain Aifread was on the prison island for a period of time. And it's true that Melchior took him away. However, I'm afraid that is where the trail grows cold."
As was typical of this stoic skipper known as the Reaper, he stayed ever vigilant for any information pertaining to this infamous Captain of his. Pushing off from the leaning position at the deserted bar, Eizen turned with blues of thankfulness. "In any case, we can be sure the Abbey has him captive.
The tavern owner - Tabatha - crossed her arms, stumped by this unusual mystery even the Bloodwing Butterflies remained dumbfounded by. "But what could they possibly want with him? If their aim is merely to fight piracy, then they'd publicly execute him or try to lure you out, would they not?"
"And yet, they've done neither. Total silence."
"I wonder..." Tabatha methodically stroked her chin, a dawn of a theory upon her mind. "Could it be they want to get their hands on the relic some say Aifread brought back from the far continent?"
This brought Eizen to a standstill, glove sat over mouth in contemplation, mulling over this mysterious relic and the rumours beginning to roam. "It's possible. There was a certain relic the captain was curiously taken with. Kept it safe."
"What was it?"
"That's our business. I'll speak no more on it. But, if that's truly what they're after, I doubt the villa is where they're keeping him locked up."
He glowered, crossing his arms with tense posture, the worn gloves bore gripping the blackened sleeves of the Reaper's coat fiercely.
"That's not where they keep their torture implements."
"...Quite true. At any rate, I thank you for sharing what secrets you could."
"I wish you the best of luck on your search for more information."
~~~
Haze. Voided white, encompassing the vestiges of this broken mind, this broken world, wrought by resting eyes and totalized from sleepless nights. And within were where writhing shadows grew, as this abnormal vacant space centralised upon its one duty. To torment the living corpse burdened by past scars, and emblazon her with new wounds. Shattered remnants of ancient rock, sinking deep and beneath this colourless ocean, ruins; ruins of the fractured self, and ruins of the place never forgotten. And inside its withering shadows, was the vile crimson veiled behind this physical visage, rotting shadows of stone, and flesh.
This, malevolent hunger raged ablaze, pulling twitching limbs forward and clawing at devastated meat; garnered by split caverns of pooling scarlet that stained her skin forevermore. More, more, more. Fingers dug deeper, strands of leaking ivory ripped from the tendons and splayed to be chewed by thirsting teeth and shredded into nothingness at her devouring talons. The blood ran a river, fuelled by a daemon's once slumbering appetite. Velvet drank deep of this vermillion iron, soulless medallions undeterred by the familiar innocent body torn into and craved.
Until, they were.
The poor girl, doused in the remains of this feast, sprang back with a painful gasp; orbs dotted and shrunk with heart-pounding shock. Seething with dreadful tendrils of lavender and smog, the claw reluctantly peeled away with her despairing retreat, and uncovered the ruined figure. Lifeless, motionless, formless, nothingness. The daemon was mortified.
With a dire exhale that belied stifled tears, she stuttered with trembling words; "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to...!" It fell upon deaf ears, slipping between her enshrouded head as she blocked all sight of this horrific deed. Nevertheless, the carcass - remaining picked apart like prey - was as clear as day in her mind. "But I'm hungry... I'm so hungry..." she lowly reasoned, a dark and feral etch with each crumbling moment of sanity. Velvet's breath ran rapid, every single molecule of the dwindling humanity wrenching back this insatiable urge.
"If survival is at stake, an elder sister eating her brother before he inexorably wastes away, is not outside the bounds of reason. You needn't hold back, Velvet."
He stood. Reigned in faithful white and honoured gold, Artorias Collbrande stared on blankly, peering deep with cold and unfeeling blue into one's of hopeless auric.
"Eat. Laphicet."
Velvet's shaking eyes sat void, with her trembling lips and pale features frozen with inexhaustible fear.
Her rejecting shrieks of despair and terror rang high, as the blighted miasma within surged. Uncontrollable, and untamed.
Gilded orbs snapped open with a dreadful gasp, instincts blaring with savage alarm, as her arms shot forth and coiled violently about the neck of the one that stood before her. "To hell with you! You and your disgusting words!" Velvet seethed out in hysterics, form quivering in upmost hatred as the vice grip held, tightened to a deathly force.
A blink. And, as the fierce glare biting past woven threads of hair stilled, she dropped all aggression in an instant. Laphicet's choked splutters hacking out as he collapsed, finally graced with air.
"What...? Why..?" the daemon roughly muttered out, a fearful hand almost glancing the young boy's shoulder. As he finally looked up once again - hand resting upon his bruised neck - the woman's eyes lifted and went wide; the flashes of both forms that name belonged to intermingling in her dazed vision. Velvet's teeth ground together, overcome with a slicing whirlwind of emotion.
"You were... You were shouting..."
"Be more careful around me!" she sternly ordered before a sharp inhale, lashing out with a savage stomp into the marred boards below, as the woman twisted away from the boy's unfathomable fear. "You know full well I'm a daemon!"
"I'm... sorry..." Laphicet mumbled out, the sniffles of trailing shame and choked dread sending him to scurry away, panicked. His echoing steps scuttling down the hall drawing a familiar, cool shout of confused alarm sounded out from someone that would do well not to show here, less she do more than upset another 'malakhim'.
Growling out in self-chidden disappointment, the daemoness almost churned in anger as the great pointed hat of salmon pink jutted out behind the doorframe. "Awake or asleep, it's all one long nightmare," Magilou mysteriously stated, that fiendish grin gone unseen above the browned fur. "Smashing objects together is destruction. Smashing feelings together, is life. But objects, tools... so much easier to throw aside." The Witch's viridescent look lazed around the corner, to bore into a pair of gilded confusion and irritation.
Velvet's taps grew immediately, the sudden eruption of events already becoming tiresome, as her eyes sat narrowed and hardened. "What does that mean?" the ravenette snarled.
"It means break time is over! Time to get to work, sweetie!" Magilou refused to elaborate, hopping off down the silent hallway, Velvet looking on through a hail of wild thoughts. Behind the flail of darkness, did that fist tighten again to steel, shuddering with unkempt tension bolstering muscle as she stomped forward, shaking her head free to focus on the task still at hand. At least this would gift the chance to release some particularly violent frustration.
Slam!
And with the resounding clack of the daemon's door closing to tremor the Inn, all that signalled this dreadful dream: was a spanning crack upon the webbed wood, trickled with young and innocent tears.