A M E L I A
S A M A E L
S A M A E L
The imposing stench of oil and spent gunpowder lingered through the street, so thick that it might just be visible. A half dozen men with whitened hair and creased faces pried and struggled against piles of rubble and splintered wood, their hands thickly gloved. Children clad in oversized coats clambered and ran across the street - scurrying to make room for the occasional automobile or taxi.
One of the laboring men lifted a hand to a couple passing by, their attire undamaged and vibrant in color, their step determined and backs straight. The shorter of the two carried a trio of satchels, all varying in size, and wore a simple shirt and slacks - a strange thing in the chilling fall weather. His fair hair was combed back, yet his face was unkempt, with visible stubble on his jaw and neck. Upon his right arm he wore a simply-designed silver watch backwards, having to tilt his palm up if he were to read the time.
Ahead of him walked a woman with similarly-colored hair, although hers was fell past her shoulders, with her head covered by a shapeless cap. Her hands were hidden within the pockets of an olive coat, with a similar, thinner watch resting upon her right wrist. A draft of wind blew past, ruffling her skirt and hair and bringing with it a thick floral aroma, washing away the previous odors.
Hey, Amelia? I think we're getting close.
A couple simple words that nobody save one could hear - a faint, almost intimate whisper slid into her thoughts, a deep, ringing voice she knew belonged to Samael, an angelic name that was given to a man who had seemed a godsend upon his creation. He's since failed to keep such high esteem, with a primary reason being his ceaseless chiding.
Do you think I'm lost? I already know we're close.
Her tone was defensive - perhaps a bit tired. The taxi had dropped them off at the wrong office, forcing them to walk several blocks, a setback made more difficult even with flat shoes due to the damaged, messy terrain. Well, that, and she knew that Samael had been preoccupied with watching their surroundings. It was with no small amount of irritation that she learned that her Artifact just now figured out where they were.
Not paying attention, though. Come on, isn't the smell a bit strong for a few withering flowerbeds? This is an Artifact's work.
Her irritation lapsed - for she herself hadn't given the ability any other notice than relief, due to it removing the previous stench.
Is it doing anything to us?
To this, he shrugged. The scent grew stronger as they turned the corner of the street, facing the Kazetani office at the intersection. Though, neither of them felt tired or otherwise affected by the ability as their proximity increased.
No idea, but I'm guessing it's not.
Could be the American Saniwa, then. The West Wind has a liking for these kinds of displays, swaggering bunch of cowboys that they are.
The source quickly came into view - a uniformed Artifact standing at his post near the door. Samael gave him a nod as the pair walked inside. Another moment spent with a receptionist - and they were walking into the meeting room a minute later. She had removed her hat and coat, tucking both under her arm, while Samael had actually tucked his shirt in.
As she observed the room, it was reassuring to see that she wasn't the last to arrive. A quick count indicated that two still had yet to arrive - the two women from the East and South wind, probably. She took note of Kazetani's stifling presence - with both father and child carrying a similar air, with the younger talking to who Amelia supposed to be Christie. A duo of tall, older man accompanied by what Samael confirmed to be their two Artifacts. She tagged them as the West Wind Saniwa, if only due to their volume and dialect. And sitting on the floor was a young-looking man (wait, why was he sitting?) she swore she'd seen before -
Have you ever seen an Artifact that looks like that? Samael interrupted, his curiosity piqued.
Amelia instead followed Samael's gaze, and immediately saw what had piqued his curiosity. The young man's artifact was also sitting nearby, and she might have commented on that were she not also looking at a pair of animalistic ears, thrust out from the top of the girl's head.
Ah. Those two.
You know them?
No, but I saw them at the Graduation. Strange sort - if you can't tell.
Everyone's strange in a way, though.
They're acting like an actual teenaged couple. At a meeting about - really, the most important assignment any of us will ever do?
Oh - her ear's doing a twitching thing. Really, it's kind of endearing.
Though Amelia had already walked off, her gaze set upon a pair of particular Saniwa - perhaps one of the few professionals within the group.
Thinking with elitism doesn't qualify you for it, you know.
"Madame Christie, Mr. Kazetani? It's wonderful to finally meet you." Amelia said, adopting a smile and lilt to her tone. "Precious few other Saniwa hardly seem as composed."
She glanced at the elder Kazetani out of the corner of her eye - his head seemed bent, his eyes closed, so she didn't wish to disturb his thoughts. So, with a hand to her chest, she continued, "I'm Amelia - Amelia Renard, one of the Research Saniwa."
You're off your game today.
I'm not even playing the game.
Then you need to improve on your flattery.