Through misted and yellowed glass panes did the sun's beams glower, flooding the basil-coloured room with its iridescent light to highlight wafting flecks of dust. Blonde matted upon a pillow - the hardness of its feathered inside providing at least decent comfort - rose with a steady blink, rubbing away the weariness from tired green eyes. Laphicet's legs skirted the worn but welcoming mattress and planted at creaky floorboards, until the boy's vision climbed, and saw the rough and waiting dark silhouette leant against the closed doorway.
"You're finally up."
Velvet's arms unfastened from their crossed position as her foot pushed off from the frame, hand sat expectedly on hip.
"I'm sorry..." the young malak's apologetic mutter came again, seemingly shameful of his lazing state.
"Don't worry about it," the daemon said as her steps clicked close, "Getting sleepy or hungry is just a natural part of life. Besides... something else held me up anyway." A sigh trickled out when the boy's hesitant recline came in response to her approach. "...I won't eat you," Velvet promised tiredly.
"What about your wounds? Feeling pain... that's also natural, right?"
Posture arching slightly, the ravenette recalled the burning incision marred deep into her back, with a finger subconsciously tracing the scar now laced over cheek. "I'm fine. It was nothing."
"You're really tough, aren't you, Velvet."
"You have to be tough, if what you seek is revenge." Her words were low, full of grit as the golden stare bore off to the wall aside.
"Revenge?"
Velvet's composure steadied again, snapping back to the stoic and serious demeanour once more. "We're leaving," she ordered, turning on heel to grip the door handle as the boy jumped out of bed still wearing his malakhim robes. "Rokurou and the others should still be in the plaza."
Passing through the crowd of merry and lavish drunkards that filled the pleasant Inn, Velvet and Laphicet stepped through the entryway to the sight of the piercing horizon: sky blue reigning above and puffed with innocent white clouds. Before them, the same flowing fountain's current bubbled along into its reservoir. And the first to greet the emerging pair out of the assorted group ahead, was one of vivid colour and pompous vibrancy in voice.
"Ah! What a joy to face a clear, refreshing morning," Magilou gleefully stated with a dramatic stretch. "Especially after a long night of meting punishment on my heartless betrayer!" As the Witch's pleasant expression morphed into that of a devilish grin, the exhausted flapping of wings and drooping tears neared.
"Bieeeeen! My poor, battered body..." the bopping normin cried desperately, sinking to the stained cobble.
"You better not kill our key," Velvet warned with narrowed eyes.
"You're one to talk. Better not eat the boy, he's your precious key now!"
Her vision zipped to the side, stopping at the completely ignorant face enshrouded with golden tufts. "I know."
As the Therion's face had turned to the side, it had unfortunately given the scouring Witch full view of the scar burned into its sliced place: light binding the wounded skin for the jester's fiendish eyes to see. Magilou gasped, her melodramatic movement bringing attention back as she passed a palm to open mouth, "Oh my! What is this!" she sang, a finger almost prodding the healed incision, "It seems that the dog has bitten back~." Fed up of the Witch's antics, Magilou's haughty giggle was brought to a stop as the daemon grabbed the pointed finger and bent it back with ease - narrowing a sprain as the girl's rapid "ow's" slipped forth.
"Drop. It." Velvet pushed the Witch back with a growl, Magilou waving the stinging hand rapidly through the air.
"Noted..." the Witch sorrowfully whimpered, her scorned expression showing as she almost flopped over. Laphicet's mumbles of confusion came to, and in a second Magilou scrambled up from the lowly chidden posture to one of important note. "So! It appears you're facing a Shepherd and an Empyrean," she recalled with a returning bright grin, hiding the strained finger behind her back, "Ol' Shepsie's one thing, but Empyrean's are, y'know, just... gods who created the world? Do you think you can win by just smacking it around a bit?"
"That's no Empyrean. It's a phony. Artorias is just using a legend to control the people," Velvet bluntly presumed, fist folding with a grimace, "Wouldn't a true god be able to do something about the daemonblight?"
Off to the side, Eizen's sigh was quiet yet heavy, as he turned away from the conversation with a frown.
"You don't believe in Innomniat?" Rokurou asked in surprise.
"I believe something there exists that people CALL Innomniat. But it's just a malak that used a special arte to bring the other malakhim into our world."
"Does it matter?" Heads turned to the emerging accented voice that interjected from the courtyard's day to day bustle, and out stepped the form of Sarid: almost none the worse for wear except for an evident heft in each step as the crest bristled in the midday glamour. "Nobody, is immortal."
"You were up early," the Samurai stated, abruptly befuddled at the man's appearance not from the Inn. So, he just assumed.
"You could say that."
Velvet's stare lingered on the half-malak for a moment, the ire of her scar slipping away with a dismissive turn.
"Well!" Magilou interrupted as the group became full again, a fiendish glimmer of interest panning back to the woman in focus. "Aren't you awfully confident."
A pause of silence. "I witnessed it three years ago."
"Well, if it's not actually a god we're up against, we might just stand a chance."
"Of course we do," the daemoness unequivocally said, "And ultimately, our target is Artorias. I don't care about anything else."
"Revenge against Artorias... for her brother..."
"Alright, Laphicet," the Samurai suddenly announced, jerking the boy from his cloud of daydreaming thoughts. "Which way to the Empyrean's Throne?"
"Umm, it was north of Loegres, in the mountains up Danann Highway."
"If exorcists are keeping up their inspections, it might give us a chance to steal another malak," Velvet expected, that being their only choice to pass through the barrier.
Finally, the Reaper's steps crunched loose stone as he stepped close to assist. "I sent my men a sylphjay with orders to scout out the inspectors. With their information, we'll be able to plan out the attack."
"Hmm. We can meet up at Port Zekson."
"That's the plan."
As the clicking of their boots rumbled over the streets of the unsuspecting capital - trekking towards the entryway inspection - sounded a cough veiled by the echoing mutters and shouts of residential life. "One step closer..." the words trailed, gritted and mildly hoarse from the dry throat where it came.
Smudges of ivory, staining over the cloth bound upon draconic skin.
With the group's traversal weaving of this complex city, their chatter intermingled with that of the typical residents' daily commute, it didn't take long for them to reach the exit and begin their great track towards the Shepherd's place of rest. The brimming birth of sloping hillsides and greenery shining in the sun greeted eyes, just as the ridiculous back and forth between Witch and Normin came to a close.
"...But you haven't changed at all! You will eternally be my greatest servant!"
"Oh, I don't want to be the greatest, then. This is bad-baaad!"
As Bienfu's dramatic and panicked soaring to flutter away from Magilou's malignant grip, the lone daemoness ahead halted over crunched dirt: palm slapping at her forehead in total disbelief.
"And our roster of the oblivious grows longer..."
Soon did they trod along the daemonblight-riddled hills, with pouncing wolves and shrieking gibbons to clamber out from bushes only to fall under her boot, now came a new issue. Laphicet's expression was downtrodden - filled with swirling thoughts - as they sauntered just over the stone bridge at the mouth of Danann Highway. The boy looked miserable.
"Doesn't he always?"
After removing the pouting Witch from stepping in, the boy relented holding back what was on his mind. "Rokurou is a daemon swordsman. Eizen is a cursed malak. Magilou is a bizarre witch. Sarid is a half-malak daemon-hunter. Velvet is a daemon-eater. But... what am I?"
The young boy was searching for his place in the world, not as a tool or emergency rations. He was alive.
"You have to decide it."
Laphicet's head tilted on befuddlement at the Samurai's answer, while the warrior elaborated that he could whatever he wanted.
"That's what it means to be alive. You control the rudder of your life. Your hands on the wheel."
"My life... My rudder..."
"And, if life spits in your face and you get dealt a bad hand, knock its teeth out and show it who you really are."
In response to the half-breed's suggestion, the boy took it literal, swiping an unfocused and off-balance strike at the air with narrowed eyes; stumbling from the momentum. "Ah..." Laphicet mumbled, frowning at the untrained punch. Sarid's chuckles didn't bolster his confidence, until an arm slapped onto the boy's shoulder.
"Doubts are okay too. They're just further proof you're alive," Eizen added with a stern and supporting nod. With Rokurou's addition and promise of protection until he could find his answer, a smile stretched upon the boy's features once more.
"Alright. I don't really understand... but thank you."
"Pretty, pretty words and all, but take care who you listen to, kid. Daemons, reapers and hunters, remember?"
"I hear there's a wicked witch about, too."
As Magilou's expression contorted into one of disdain at the pirate's snide remark, an anguished voice boomed from the trail ahead as the group jumped slightly.
"Get going or get left behind!"
~~~
"Phew, those things were pretty strong."
"You just wanted something good to train on."
After finally dispatching the various beasts that lay in malicious wait across this dilapidated lifeblood of trade, the cast regrouped at the dirtpath with their tireless trek onwards towards the port. And, the Samurai found it appropriate to remind the dismissive Velvet of why the betterment of his skill would assist in the repayment of his debt. Nonetheless, it was brought to attention that the surrounding members that strolled alongside were unaware of such a debt.
"My sword is my life. When I was seperated from it, Velvet told me where to find it." Eizen and Laphicet nodded along at his serious look, the Witch sidelined with no care for his explanation. "And she freed me from a 500-year-long prison sentence," he added with a smile.
"You say that like it's an afterthought."
Nevertheless, this only reinforced the Therion's innate distrust of the Samurai; much to his confusion considering his family's history. Specialising in unusual weaponry and techniques, they were renowned for their sense of duty and commitment.
"Bodyguards, assassins, spies, body doubles..."
Whatever the order, the Rangetsu family would carry it through. To repay any debt, even with your life as their creed. With already four of the warrior's five older brethren having passed in this line.
Rokurou was trustworthy, as long as he remained at their side.
"Oh, come on, that's not fair."
Despite this, another subject of interest toiled the mind of their half-malak as they traversed nearer to the port gates. "Laphicet, you called me a daemon-hunter before... any reason why?"
The group halted at this, the thought-provoking matter catching interest as no inkling of such a title was spoken by or for the man.
"Oh..." the boy mumbled, nervous at the sudden attention. "That crest on your chest and back; that's the Barloc family crest." A pause, full of registry. Laphicet went on to recite how he had read of their history in a book inside the Hellewas library, recounting their status as daemon-hunters through the generations, even before the Abbey. All of which, Sarid had never even known.
The bestiary his father once stressed him to study day and night made sense now.
"Wait... you're a Barloc," Eizen muttered, scouring over the insignia with analytical eyes of ice. "Of course... you never said your last name."
Velvet's clear interjection caught sight, as the ravenette dismissively admitted of her knowing. A name that slipped in their introduction, never spoken of since. Soon, the Samurai began to piece together this puzzle with a growing familiarity in carrying on a family line, as the half-malak remained silent. The reason why the Praetors kept referring to him as a traitor, was because of one sole reason.
"Kami Barloc," the Reaper stated to finalise, "Fourth Legate of the Abbey, excommunicated for treason and barred of exorcist protection."
"You're his son."
Sarid sighed half-hearted, wistful violet brimming with emotion as his history was finally laid bare to the group. The half-malak confessed to even his own unknowing of the Barloc's past, his father's betrayal and even his status as a Legate to potentially match those of Melchior and Shigure. Everything made sense with Eleanor's consistent degradation of the dynasty and Oscar's insults when they had met in battle. The blood of valiant daemon-hunters that fought in the name of humanity pumped through his veins, and here he was, a traitor carrying on in the name of another traitor.
"My, what another great twist! I had thought the oh-so skilled Barloc family was a dying breed... It seems I stand correct once again."
Sarid almost growled at the Witch himself, fist tight to the side. "...I only ever knew him as my father, his title as an exorcist always came last in this - apparently renowned - family."
Even still, the eyes that rove at his side as they finally came to the gates of Port Zekson were not one of distrust and suspicion, but respect. For following his own path, fighting for his beliefs, his own hands at the wheel. All at the side of daemons seeking to end the great Saviour.
The light-hearted chuckles of a Samurai undaunted came, "The son of an ex-Legate helping us take down the Shepherd... what a world, eh?"
"Doesn't matter to me," Velvet had said, waving off the reveal with a flick of the hand. "As long as you're fighting for us and remain... useful, I probably won't eat you."
Probably.
Nevertheless - even back to back with the Lord of Calamity to bring terrible ruin to this world - Sarid Barloc would carry on the honour of the family, in his own way. Exorcists be damned, wear this crest with pride, last son of the Barloc line.
~~~
"Did the sylphjay reach your men?"
Standing aside the unmoving dock was the villainous group conversing with the pirate's about the scouting; Van Eltia swaying gently portside in the biting sea breeze as the daemoness patiently lent to the corner of cargo.
"Yeah. They're scouting the checkpoints."
"They're not back yet?" At the Reaper's demanding inquiry, the hardened pirate just shook his head.
"No, but they won't be long."
Rokurou lit up with a grin, "Let's rest for a bit. I'm hungry."
"Yeah, me too," Laphicet repeated, the rumble of his stomach almost overcoming the casual swishing of foaming coastal waves.
"How are you two hungry? We had food in Loegres..."
Velvet cast a look over the agreeing group, and nodded her head to the side as she pushed off the crate. "We'll rest until the scouts are back, then."
Far beyond the shifting blue below, came the soothing blaze of dusk billowing beneath the murky overcast. It cast its brilliant warmth across the glinting azure - current calm and settled - with the fading rays piercing translucent sails of the wandering ships afar.
Velvet took in the swollen horizon, the silence of these Crossroads of Commerce weighing heavy as the scouts remained unreturned. Chills wracked her skin, yet the kiss of cold never graced the senses, only the sharp air to blister nostrils at the side of salt and seaweed. With the rise and fall of her ample chest, fogged breath came from tense lips. Turning on her heel, the daemon stepped away from the dock outcrop and the ramp of their still vessel, looking out over the port to see dots of allies still amongst the few sailors that remained.
As boots of steel clicked past, the hushed whispers of two voices - one low yet humorous and the other snake-like - coming from the Van Eltia's stern were heard. Velvet's gilded gaze went aloft, and caught sight of the Samurai and the verdant-scaled lizardman that had been stationed on the ship since their arrival. She could easily catch Rokurou's exclamations from the portside, and Dyle's hurried hushes to keep him quiet. From between clawed grip, the lizardman produced an ornate bottle of vermillion liquid sloshing within, and resounded its name with reverence.
"Behold! The finest drink there is! Illaigne Red!"
The two men and their cautiously devious plan was easily heard by her as Velvet pursed her lips with a incredulous sigh. Attempting to hide this apparently incredible drink from the other pirates, and yet she found no interest at all.
"The subtle notes of this exquisite libation would be lost on those louts."
And, even Rokurou couldn't resist, adding the temptation of Rucarella Cheese to aid this 'magnificent' drink.
"Wow," the daemoness muttered from below, "Talk about oblivious..."
Making her way up the steps to the central port, the ravenette's eyes immediately snapped to the resting form of a certain vibrant Witch and a bopping Normin nestled under the leftmost archway. As Velvet's boots clacked close, the crunch of teeth biting into the flesh of a red apple caught the senses. And, soon turning to spare a glance at the downed Magilou, figured it was purposeful.
"I gave an apple to the boy too! Aren't I just the kindest girl alive?" she playfully stated with a grin of content. As her sight caught the fruit, the daemon halted abruptly, looking on lowly towards the tasteless food. Her fist clenched behind the veil of black. "Would you like one?" Magilou questioned with a fiendish smirk pulling at her lips, holding out another fresh apple. "This time, I want you to crow like a roos-"
"No, thank you." Velvet's growl was clear and stopped the jester in her 'steps', leading the daemon to twist and trod away uncaringly. As she rightmostly sauntered across the empty and ghostly port - stalls vacant of resource and personnel - the woman plodded down the sparse steps to make her way across the bank that led to the great alleyway under the arch: where the Inn and weapon merchant had lay, along with the gates they had entered through that parted right to Danann Highway. However, instead of heading left and into this street of wears, Velvet spotted an unmoving figure steps away from the simmering waters ahead: a few feet away from the chain linked watchtower surveying the ocean.
The Hunter heard her approach a while before the daemon even opened her lips, peering down into the cerulean depths and almost glaring at the reflection who gazed back. Another breeze of an icy chill passed, and yet the man didn't tremble, now adorning a thick fur cloak just over his haori that smothered his upper body from sight; purchased from the merchant stationed nearby.
"Hey, you got a cloak in there? It's freezing out here."
"You killed some of those pesty creatures out on the Highway, you get this one for free."
"...I love you-"
Still as human as ever.
"Oh, look who it is, of all the ones to join me, the Empyreans decided on you," the half-malak dryly mocked without shifting his figure; the rise of his head the only note of Velvet's presence as she stepped to his side. "Any reason for disturbing this lonely Barloc? Newly promoted 'daemon-hunter' with no living relatives."
She was silent for the moment, mulling over the almost self-deprecating words he spat. The daemon's gaze on him was hard, and still Sarid didn't spare a glance in the woman's direction. "Last chance," Velvet finally said, crossing arms as she stared out to sea. "Last chance to leave now, and never return."
The half-breed's groan was evident, as he scratched at his neck. "You expect me to just stop here? Give up, and live in a ditch, eating and hiding while the world crumbles." Sarid's look was empty as it travelled over the open waters. Velvet could see he wasn't completely here. "That's not living..."
Her stare flicked off the ambling vessels ahead that gradually fled from the dying horizon, night soon to encompass the port in just hours. Eyes of gold and violet were alive in the twilight akin to lamps. "...Did you hear about the drink Dyle found?" she questioned, deciding to try and lighten the man's sour mood - which was a first.
He chuckled in the brimming cold silence, "I'm pretty sure the whole port heard those two." The man's pearls snapped to the one's of who stood aside, "I already told the pirates about it, I've never seen Benwick so pleased."
Velvet shook her head, splaying a hand at her hip while the next words dripped with sarcasm. "You really do fit in with the group," she remarked, a dry mix of incredulity and weariness.
"I could pull a favour in case you were interested in what the drink tasted like."
"Not at that age yet."
Sarid's eyes lidded as he found his turn to spare a disbelieving look. "Forgive me if I remember this wrong, but don't you eat people?"
"Alcohol is just a waste, makes you lose focus." Velvet made no falter in her reasons.
"You're impossible..." As the man's words trailed off, another chorus of chuckles erupted from his throat after a spacious silence. "What the hell am I doing with my life...?" he lowly mumbled with a small, crude smile, hand planted over face at the entire path he found himself on. Velvet could easily see how the half-breed himself barely even figured out how this point was reached. But, despite all that's happened, it was obvious: Sarid Barloc was content with this choice.
His eyes crept to the side once more, finally cast away from the moping self-image that reflected below; one now joined at the side with another fitted to the dark. The water shimmered through fading light, the gentle mirror painting its perfect picture of two darkened souls conjoined to the coastal edge. A coat of ebony felt the playful hands of journeying winds toy with its fabric, as did one of maroon and blank fur. Sarid could see the empty space of barely parted lips appear on the Therion's face, and waiting words hung heavy. Velvet was hesitating.
Soon, they finally came, almost as a chidden mutter; "...What was that flower for?" the Lord of Calamity had asked. His violet orbs slipped away from the somber tilt of her head, flayed strands dancing in the midst of nature's patient breath.
"Don't think much of it, a kind gesture, is all," the Hunter dismissively said, a waving arm revealed from the swaying cloak draped at his still shoulders. Yet, the Hunter's head craned mildly to a turn away.
Velvet remained motionless at the flank, hand wound upon the other paired wrist, an inward order to not reach for what flora sat nestled in her pocket. The daemon felt her lips dry at the chilling blow whisking the port. Her grip tightened, and a nigh shudder snaked up the shrouded limb.
"...She did the same. Always before serving that quiche..."
A breath passed. Silence. His head steadily twisted back, her's persisting in its seaward view. The winds chimed again over the flowing, vacant dock, and a hand inched out from its veiled attire: mere moments away from the shoulder of darkness. It froze, the outstretched fingers winding to a clench - a shake of dismay - and slunk back to its warming depths.
There they stood, side by side on this chilling coast. Once reluctant allies with hatred for one another beneath, now survivors below different skin: hearts withered from pasts ever so desolate. There they stood, black roses weathering life's endless storm.
A daemon-hunter, and a daemon.
The light died further - blighted fingers falling away from fiddling with the ring wound at her rightmost's middle - and the ravenette stepped away from the dockside: leaving the lone 'monster-hunter' to enjoy the lowering dusk. His new cloak flapped with a passing gale that sent a biting chill over skin. "...Don't stay out here long, if you get sick... you'll be useless against the Shepherd." With those brief words that were filled with uneasy remembrance, Velvet's figure disappeared around the corner of the port bank. Sarid couldn't resist a retort to gain the last laugh.
"Your unending hate for me will keep the air warm as always, wolfy. And... maybe your cooking too."
Her passing sigh - etched with grit - swiftly summoned more sparse snickers from the man upon the lonely coast.
Her words hovered still, fresh as the bubbling current, on the surface of their minds.
As Velvet strode into the nigh uninhabited grand alley, she immediately spotted the vivid yellow hair of the conversing Benwick, and a seated Reaper listening on intently with a flick of his coin. After relaying the pirate's preparation, Eizen's stern orders rang out in haste, stating how they'd set sail at the scouts' return, and that the crew should be ready to fling into action at a moment's notice.
"There's no telling what'll happen at the Empyrean's Throne. Be ready for the worst."
"Is there something worse than being around you, First Mate?"
The skipper chuckled at the man's quick wit, leaning back with a smirk, "...Just be ready."
"Aye aye aye! And if anything goes wrong, send a sylphjay and we'll come running!"
Velvet - lent just against the bricked wall of blank grey out of sight - hummed in interest. "...Be ready for the worst, huh?"
Only one member remained to be checked on before they spring into action at the scout's supposed return. And, the ravenette wasted no time in trekking right back to the portside of the Van Eltia, spotting the head of platinum blonde hair flowing in the wind. As the waves peeked over the dock edge, their spray trickling over steeled feet, Velvet's clinkle of silver trinkets pierced the ocean's melody. Another crunch; Laphicet biting right into a fresh red apple greater than his hand, another nestled upon his lap.
"Is it good?"
The young malak's eyes lit up as he turned to find Velvet waiting just behind the cargo he was seated atop. "It's tart... and yet, sweet." With a gleefull smile, his verdant orbs turned to her from the lapping sea ahead offering up the spare fruit he held.
"No thanks," the daemon turned down after the momentary surprise wore off. "I wouldn't be able to taste it anyway."
As Laphicet's head tilted down in mild disappointment she couldn't enjoy the food, the creak of the crate signalled Velvet's seating at the boy's side. Sight slipping downwards at her left, she found the aureate compass posed between the two; its pristeen face staring upwards into the deepening blue. "You sure like the sea."
"I-I'm afraid of the sea... the waves. Sharks. All of the strange fish," Laphicet admitted as he stared down into the glistening red fruit. "But at the same time, its huge and full of wonder. When I let myself think about what's over the horizon... it's exciting!"
As his viridescent pearls slipped to hers, filled with such a heart-wrenching familiar light, the daemon's lips parted before she looked to the cobble below. "My brother... he loved the sea, too."
"Your brother? Really?"
"He'd sit on the cape, just staring at it." Velvet slipped off from the cargo, enamored by both the glistening view that steadily sank to dark, and her memories. The onyx tailcoat sweeped the pebbles below, as she stepped towards the dampened edge. "I told him he'd catch a cold in that ocean wind, but he never listened to a word I said." Her voice was soft, and somber; as she turned to look into that glistening compass out of the corner of her eye. "Your view of looking at the world is so much like his. I wish... I wish I'd bought him that compass. I wish we could've travelled together, like he wanted."
Her words sat still over the flowing breeze, skirting the shredded cloak and stroking flared bangs as she stood.
"Hey! The scouts are back everyone!"
Velvet's head snapped to the call, gilded orbs hardening once more as she twisted and sauntered forth. Her boot clicked against a single stone step, frozen against the slab. Silver clinked across her wide waist, head shifting slightly to address the boy who looked on in silence. "Laphicet. You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to."
Jittering back in surprise upon the crate, the emerald gems that held that innocent light widened, before sinking to his lap. "I..." the boy took in a deep breath, and raised his head to stare deep and stern into the ravenette's back. "I'm going with you, Velvet."
The breeze fell against her figure again, swaying blackened attire with swirling tendrils bound in bandage. The chilling gales faltered at the daemoness's unfeeling flesh, bitter transparent hands holding still this malicious form. She bit her lip; numb once more. The winds of this brazen coast sung so highly to her ears, and Velvet whispered two words as empty as the one who spoke them.
"I see."