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Zilocke Thane

"What is a madman but one whose mind is not so easily understood by the conventional?"

0 · 161 views · located in Arkanvale

a character in “Requiem for a Fallen”, originally authored by Ion, as played by RolePlayGateway




"Madness is genius taken to its natural end."

Name: Zilocke Solomon Thane

Titles/Nicknames: The Mad Alchemist; Sol, Thane

Age: 26—Though admittedly people tend to guess a bit high on that one due to his looks if not his demeanor.

Gender: Male.

Sexuality: “Oh definitely.”

Role: Exorcist. Yep, believe It or not, this guy has some serious talent. …He wouldn’t blame you for not believing it.

Appearance: He looks a bit like a highwayman or a pirate or some kind of similar low-class scum, actually, not to mention a magpie. His clothing is unnecessarily ornamented, what with the buckles and the belts and fastenings and bells—you read correctly, the man wears bells. One’s braided into a strand of hair near the front, and he’s got more around his wrists and ankles. This is in addition to the two bandoliers criss-crossing his broad chest in an ‘X’ shape and the leather belt at his waist, to say nothing of the bandages always over his left eye and the fact that he’s usually wearing spectacles anyway—purely for show, you understand. The clothing underneath is in dependable, durable material, mostly black and white, though he’s made a habit of finding brightly-colored strips of fabric and tying them to his arms as he pleases. Magpie.

He’s got a pretty honestly fantastic head of hair, actually. Flame-red, to his mid-back, thick, soft, and shiny. If he had a point of obvious vanity, that would probably be it, only he doesn’t seem to do anything terribly special to it; in fact, a closer guess would be that he keeps it so long because he’s too lazy to cut it. His goatee’s a little more maintained, probably to keep it out of the way more than anything.

His build is perhaps not what you would expect of someone called “The Mad Alchemist.” He’s no half-starved, decrepit old man, anyway. Quite the opposite, rather. Tall, well-built, and at the peak of physical fitness, there could be something intimidating about Thane, if he bothered to try. If one is easily intimidated, there might be anyway. That said, he’s usually sporting a half-cocked grin and a mischievous twinkle to his visible citrine-colored eye. The other one, hidden always under the bandages, is a vibrant, backlit blue-violet.

Also of note is the fact that the majority of the skin of his arms, back, chest, and legs is covered in black-and-red-inked tattoos, the designs swirling, exotic, and strangely geometrical. They’re actually transmutation sequences, the ones he uses most often or finds most important. Having them there saves him from needing to draw them every time he wants to use them.

Personality: In Zilocke, genius is well hidden, elusive beneath a practiced veneer of shallowness and play. He’d as soon have you believe that he’s an eccentric or harmless fool than understand the true depth of his knowledge or talent, because people want things from geniuses, and expect things from them, and he’s frankly done with that, thank you very much.

His masks come in many varieties, and the man who is at one time a flirting drunkard with wandering hands is at another a half-wild homeless vagabond with sticky fingers or a slack-jawed country bumpkin gawking at all the fancy glitter and pomp of the city. Or he might be a hardened criminal, wearing a deadly smirk and dragging a spear-point through the dirt as he might drag it through someone’s guts—it all sort of depends on the situation. He wears a thousand faces, and most of them nearly flawlessly. The only one he seems not to favor is his own, but if pressed, he can don it, too.

Under the theatrics is a calculating intelligence, capable of a great deal, both good and bad. Potential swings both ways, though somewhere in there with all the useless trinkets and false faces is a heart made of, if not gold, at least silver. The tarnish can be polished out, if the occasion calls for it, and he’s actually a really nice guy, especially when kids are involved. Even at his core, though, eccentricity resides. It would have to, else he might not be able to stand wearing so many guises.

Vigorous, energetic, and quick to smile, there’s a certain sense of invulnerability about Zilocke, though it’s not the silent, untouchable kind. More like the kind that’s been battle-tested down in the muck with the regular folk, but come out without much damage for all that. The world can pull a 180, and the smart bet would be that he wouldn’t change much at all. Though maybe that depends on who you think he is at the time, no?

Physical Combat—He’s not bad with his hands and feet, and actually pretty well-trained with polearms. Mostly, his advantage is just in being really fit and incredibly hard to predict.

Alchemy—Thane’s form of exorcism actually involves alchemy. It’s not holy magic, per se, nor does it carry the same touch of the divine as that of most exorcists. Rather, his scientific mind and careful research have allowed him to understand the difference between “people stuff” and “metapeople stuff” and he is capable of selectively banishing the metapeople stuff—by using alchemy to reject its existence on this plane. Alchemy as he has come to understand it is best represented by the triangle, each vertex a different aspect of the craft. Note that alchemy is limited by the alchemist’s need to draw a circle for every spell performed, unless of course they already exist, say on paper (or in Thane’s case, tattoo ink!)

-Alchemic Vertex I: Creation This is honestly the part he’s not quite so good at. Theoretically, an alchemist can fudge the edges of equivalent exchange, but only with a lot of careful work and very complicated circles that take way too long to draw and don’t make very much at all. He’s largely content to leave the creating to other beings, thanks. Also under this label are certain bioalchemical abilities like accelerated healing, which he’s a bit better with.

-Alchemic Vertex II: Transmutation The bread and butter of the Alchemist’s trade, transmutation is the act of turning one substance into another, or altering the material structure of something already there. For example, Zilocke might form a hunk of metal into a sword, or freeze water, or redirect an electrical current, or change the surface of his skin from flesh to stone (something he’s become quite practiced at). The majority, though not all, of the tattoos on his body correspond to the circles required for self-alteration such as this.

-Alchemic Vertex III: Destruction Slightly misnamed, destruction refers to the decomposition of matter, usually achieved by the breaking of chemical bonds. This breaks down material into its component parts. It’s easiest with simples like large quantities of a single element or relatively uncomplicated compounds, like stone. Much, much harder with organic matter, and slow enough to be basically useless on something as complicated as a human being. It is, however, surprisingly easier to do with Wraiths and the like, and represents Zilocke’s unique method of exorcism—he breaks down the composition of the wayward being and banishes the particles back to the other side of the body, where they reform and can then be destroyed by an angel and sealed in by a demon. Other than that or breaking through a wall, though, this skill actually isn’t all that useful.

-Unique Ability: Eye of Ra Nobody’s quite sure what the Mad Alchemist did to his eye to give it its supernatural properties—there’s a rumor going around that he killed a demon and removed the organ, which he then transplanted to his own head (totally false), but whatever the case may be, it allows him to work transmutations over great distances. When Thane uncovers the Eye, he is able to see beyond the limits of ordinary sight, and can, by activating a circle immediately in front of him, cause that circle’s effects to take place somewhere else entirely. He needs a focus point, something to seek with the eye; a person he’s seen before would work, or a place he’s been, or even a large concentration of some alchemic ingredient (say sulfur if he’s trying to find a volcano for whatever reason). Incidentally useful for long-distance monitoring or spying, but he doesn’t really feel the need to use it for that.

Bio: Zilocke is the child of minor provincial nobility, if one goes in for that sort of thing. He doesn’t, really, and generally spent most of his early years being exactly the kind of child his parents didn’t want. He was the second of three anyway, and his older brother was the heir while his sister was the coddled baby, so it took a while for him to find his niche. Seeking to help but mostly just get rid of him, his folks sent him away to an alchemist for apprenticeship, since that at least is a useful talent.

Turns out, he was a prodigious talent. Go figure, right? Of course, when people found out about this, it was all of a sudden like he’d had all these friends all along who were now asking him for personal favors and trying to marry him off to their noble daughters and so on and so forth. He developed an array of personalities, both suited and decidedly inappropriate for polite company, to deal with this, but truthfully, it wasn’t worth whatever benefit his modest title earned him, and he decided he was done with it around age twenty of so.

He moved away from his home region, set up shop in the city, and took to research and supporting himself by plying his trade, passing himself off as a decent if not remarkable alchemist who occasionally got stupidly lucky and stumbled upon something brilliant. To keep people from looking too closely, he also chose to act like he was nuts, most of the time, which was how he earned his rather colorful moniker.

So begins...

Zilocke Thane's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Zilocke Thane
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#, as written by Ion


The window (glass, quite a rare construction around these parts) slammed open with a decisive bang, and a thick cloud of black smoke roiled out onto the streets, startling a pair of passing drunks, who blinked disbelievingly at the issuance of smog from the small, apparently boarded-up workshop. The cloud was followed, however, by a head, this crowned with a length of most distinctively-hued hair. The associated face wore a half-grazed grin, made all the more absurd by the soot streaking in seemingly-random patterns over his nose, cheeks, chin, and forehead.

Upon seeing the passers-by, the smile only stretched, in a way that made the one walking closer to it shift slightly sideways, nearly tripping and knocking into his friend. “No-no,” a rumbling bass intoned in what might have been a sing-song fashion. “Don’t you mind me. Just an everyday disaster, this is. Carry on, carry on.” The head, and the shoulders that had accompanied it out the hole in the wall, disappeared back inside, and the drunkards scurried off, shaking their heads and supposing that the alchemist must be as mad as they said.

Ah, but ‘they’ said so very many things, didn’t they? Things that no self-respecting person would claim to have uttered, but all believed anyway. Couched in the guise of the mysterious ‘they-voice,’ so much could be spread, laid in the minds of people like good earth gone fallow with poison. Not that he minded so much, anymore: ‘they’ were his best weapon against responsibility, for ‘they’ named him irrational, crazy, mad, absurd, and so many other lovely synonyms for out of his damned mind, Rachelle, and stay away from his bloody shop if you know what’s good for you! So perhaps, when things all fell on their respective sides and the battle-lines of reputation and gossip were drawn, ‘they,’ those indistinct, indiscriminate, tactless, nonexistent, powerful people were his friends.

He loved it.

Whistling a jaunty little tune to himself and uncaring if it carried out into the street, Zilocke Thane went about resorting his extra materials (salt-peter, sulfur, fire…) into their proper vessels, and these he restocked onto his shelves, the order seemingly incredibly random, enforcing no alphabet but only some clandestine numbering system that few were taught and fewer understood. He enjoyed things of this nature: the esoteric, the obscure, the absurd. The absurd most of all—it was just as hard to know as the esoteric, only nobody thought to try and know it, because it was, well, absurd! Positively delightful.

The minor explosion had, of course, been completely intentional, as had the fact that it took place before witnesses. He had been getting a little too much legitimate business lately, and it was leaving him very little time to experiment as he would have preferred. Making medicines and so on was all well and good for some people, but it bored him, so very much. He preferred other pursuits, and putting people off in this manner had the added effect of causing them to assume that this was what all of his research looked like. It transformed his esoteria into absurdity in the medium of public opinion. Esoteria? Was that a word? Probably not, but it should be. He resolved to use it in a conversation sometime, just to see what kind of look it would get him from the other party.

But alas, the day grew late, and though he would have much preferred to stay and keep working, his irritatingly-human body demanded nourishment and rest, and most of his currently ongoing experiments involved sunlight anyway, so it was perhaps best to get home. Brushing most (but not all, oh no) of the soot and debris from his clothing, he exited the shop with the soft, merry jangle of bells and buckles and the whisper of fabric, pulling the door closed and locking it with a large brass key hung about his neck. Not bothering to turn the sign (it always read ‘closed’ and people learned to come in anyway if they really needed something), he wound his way through the city streets until he came at last upon his modest dwelling.

As he hadn’t been back in over a week, there unsurprisingly a piece of communication left on his door. Probably another warning about the new public nuisance ordinances… he was about to light it on fire in his hand when he caught sight of the seal on the back. Oh? What did the Order want with him? He was quite obviously a good-for-nothing alchemist with as little sense as a magpie, and he was quite certain they knew as much. Maybe he was finally getting his wish and they were informing him that he was no longer required to check in yearly and update them on his activities. He did have fun with the forms though—‘describe the nature of your current work.’ Well, mostly I combine things with other things and watch the pretty exploding lights. Sometimes, I accidentally cause structural damage to the surrounding area, and every once in a while, I go for a walk, preferably in the company of a pretty lady, eating figs if at all possible. Me, that is, not the lady. Though she’s perfectly welcome to some, naturally.

He didn’t envy whoever had to make sense of his forms.

As it turned out, the note was an official summons, requesting his presence at the cathedral… a few days ago. Ah. Well, someone was bound to be displeased about that. The Order was the one bureaucracy that would even notice his absence, and definitely the only one that would care. He wasn’t important, they just liked to be obeyed. Briefly, Zilocke debated actually going, but discarded the idea. Being fashionably late could be fun, but even if he were, he’d still be where they wanted him to be…

Actually, scratch that. Might as well do something completely unexpected and actually show up. Humming pleasantly to himself, he ducked into his house to pack a few items and grab some food, but he was out on the road in less than ten minutes, all told.

Time for an adventure, it seemed.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xana Druj Character Portrait: Zilocke Thane Character Portrait: Liriael Amaryllis Character Portrait: Takeuchi Hiroto Character Portrait: Ilyana Ree
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#, as written by Ion


Liri didn’t pretend to be offended when the demon left her behind to go find an exorcist. Why should she? It was probably what the woman wanted—to watch the staid angel get all righteously furious or who knew what else. She claimed no knowledge of demonkind, but it was apparent to her that this Xana was not overly fond of her, and would probably gain something from her displeasure, if only satisfaction. Liriael, however, simply felt no particular amount of displeasure, and saw no need to fake it. It was true that their inability to extract the spirit from this human woman was somewhat frustrating, and Xana’s treatment of the innocent vessel less than satisfactory, but that was nothing they could do anything about until they found an exorcist, and somebody needed to watch the possessed woman in the meantime.

So Liri planted herself on a clean patch of grass, the battered human lying prone beside her, and sang the Dirge of Binding beneath her breath—the woman was so weak that it scarcely took any effort to contain her, so the crosslegged angel placed a soft hand on her brow and smiled, just barely. The spirit was obviously unhappy with this, but it wasn’t it she sought to soothe, and even when it tried to fight the effects of her spellsong, it struggled in vain, the smooth flow of notes ensnaring the limbs of its host-body and rendering it worse than useless in the end. At least it couldn’t do any more damage to the human it enslaved, this way.

It was quite some time before she sensed the demon’s presence returning, and this time, Xana was accompanied by what seemed to be a spiritually-aware human. Not a full Exorcist, perhaps, but at least a Meister. She was almost certain that was what they were called, though the knowledge did not come from herself. It must be the Nightingale, though why her own host would know anything of such matters, she could not say.

At their approach, she stood, brushing stray grass from her fitted tan trousers and folding her hands behind her back. At this point, the spirit’s struggles had rendered it even weaker, and her soft singing dropped back to a hum, no more than that being necessary to keep it in line. She may have even risked speaking, but she did not want to take the chance. Besides, so bound, the woman would be easier to exorcise. She did, however, dip her head in greeting to the dark-haired young man behind Xana.


Really, Zilocke thought to himself, it was all somebody else’s fault.

He’d been perfectly content to mind his own business while he passed through this town (or was it a city? He didn’t care enough to check), but apparently, not everyone was content to let him. He’d stopped in a tavern and purchased himself an ale—never mind that it was early in the morning, he’d been walking all night—and then left again, taking a turn through a rather rundown area of slums, when four gentlemen in raggedy clothes had stepped out in front of and behind him, wielding an assortment of nicked blades and rusted polearms. Amateurs, really.

He’d stopped and bid them all good morning, but of course, they were more interested in his belongings than his words. He could understand that, maybe: material items were quite interesting, and words so cheap. But he doubted very much they wanted the banded, engraved silver at his arms for the sake of its unique alchemical properties. Or maybe the reason they hadn’t talked to him was because they weren’t very good with words. They certainly hadn’t used many before the first one tried to jump him.

It was with a mildly-perturbed expression on his face that the Mad Alchemist stepped aside, raising an eyebrow at the loud whistle of the battered scimitar through the air. “My good sir,” he enunciated, as though genuinely shocked, “you really should be more careful. A blow like that could take a man’s arm off!” He shook his head and brought one hand up to rub absently at the stubble on his cheek. He knew he’d forgotten to do something before he left—apparently, shaving was it. He mused on the merits of using his silver wristband to fashion himself a straight-razor, ducking under the next swing with a casual ease that looked entirely accidental.

It was, without a doubt, infuriating, and all four of them were after him then, and dodging became entirely too much work for his lazy sensibilities. So he’d done what any reasonable man of moderate alchemical talent would have done in the same situation: dropped into a crouch, sketched a small circle in the dirt, and caused himself a nice, ground-rocking explosion. It was more noise and dirt than actual destruction, of course: he tended to vandalize only his own property, not the already-ramshackle dwellings of strangers.

Either way, the impressive plume of dust was more than he needed to make his escape, and he did, cackling to himself like a deranged person as he emerged from the cloud of smoke—laughter which ceased when two new pieces of information came to him at once: the crying of a child, and the sense that there was metaphysical matter nearby. Fortunately for his curiosity, they were in the same direction, and that was the one he picked, strolling along the street as though he belonged there—as though he owned it, even.

He didn’t like making children cry, and he had a feeling that this one’s distress was rather his fault. Not every day something exploded this close to you, and though the poor thing had been in no real danger, he supposed she had no way to know that. As he approached, however, he found that the metaphysical matter drew closer as well. Interesting: either the child was possessed by a spirit or… no, this was definitely something different. Angel, if he had his guess. Not that he cared—he was actually more concerned with the fact that she was adorable. Kids were great, honestly. He liked them a hell of a lot better than grown-ups, and if this one just so happened to be celestial also, well… no skin off his teeth.

Crouching in front of the girl with the faint chiming of bells, he folded one hand into a fist, then extended his index finger from it and poked her in the forehead, just gently. “Hey, kiddo. Pst.” Removing his hand, he reached into one of the many pouches at his belt and pinched a tiny bit of a bright blue powder. In the dirt between them, he sketched a tiny transmutation circle, then dropped the powder into it with a flourish. Rubbing his hands together dramatically, he clapped them, pressing both to the circle. Before their eyes, a delicate blue flower erupted from the ground, growing and unfolding its petals. The circle and the powder both disappeared, and Zilocke plucked the flower from its spot and held it out to the child. “See? Why cry when the world is so beautiful?” He grinned, and it might have even been genuine.

Really, it was just equivalent exchange. He'd made her cry, it was only fair that he do his best to make her smile, too. Even if it really was all somebody else's fault.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Virie Raymbraint Character Portrait: Lucian Faust Character Portrait: Janus Abraxis Character Portrait: Ryu D'Tari Character Portrait: Akira Hikaati Character Portrait: Zilocke Thane Character Portrait: Ilyana Ree
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#, as written by Igari


Lucian was met with a bizarre and slightly unexpected sight. His mind had not been on Akira at all, admittedly, or on the status of their little group.

He raised his eyebrows slowly at the sleeping male who was curled up with the cloak he had given him. Honestly. It was like looking at a large baby. His eyebrow twitched as he leaned over the exorcist. He could snatch the cloak back but that would only wake the other and he didn't want to deal with any questions right now. Besides, Akira had to rest to recover from the battle. He needed rest but... his mind was too active to allow that to happen.

There had been something wrong with that whole battle--something... amiss with that situation. The figure, the wraith, they had been fortunate to get out of it as relatively unharmed as they had. His eyebrows furrowed as he sat on the edge of the bed, clasping his hands in front of his mouth as he propped his elbows on his legs. He had to figure out what was happening. But things were so different this time around.

The demon had never been without his sight before, had never felt so... blind. He honestly didn't know how others coped with it, not being able to see into the possible futures. How they stumbled around so aimlessly without a care or thought to what was going to come to pass. And with the compounded fact that even if he used his visions, they might be unreliable... it put him in an awkward fix.

Did that mean his time magic would not be effective at all here? There was no way to test it... not without alerting anyone. He had a feeling that that man, this time around, was in touch with his time manipulation. And he couldn't let it be known that he was doubting his own powers. That was weakness--a weakness he could not afford.

He glanced at the sleeping Akira. The exorcist was still as oblivious as ever, so unknowing, so... tch. There was nothing to be done of the matter. He might as well feign sleep till the other woke up. He could live without it. He laid down in the other bed, closing his eyes as he tried to make sense out of the predicament.

Things were just one big convoluted mess.


Oh she saw it alright. The look that stupid wretch of an angel gave her. She grinned maliciously at him and tucked her hair behind her ear. If it weren't for the smile, then maybe she could've been deemed as maidenly. As it stood... she came across more as leering creepily than anything else. That demon was already walking ahead of them, barely glancing over at the duo as he started to begin on their way back to the HQ.

Ryu called back to her but she wasn't paying attention. Anything the whiny winged idiot said she did not have a care for. No. She was more interested in this demon Janus... Much more interested.

He had not said anything at all. But there had been a brief pause, a second, in which their gazes had locked. Janus had known. And his silence was all the affirmation she needed. He wouldn't be getting in her way. After all, she knew about him, she had been watching him since they had first grouped up. He loved the rush of battle and this situation with the rifts... it provided the perfect outlet for him. The perfect outlet for them both.

The only hitch in this little scenario was...

Her eyes swiveled over to the angel and she narrowed them slightly. She had to think of a way to get rid of him. To push him out of their group. There was no need for an angel--they would not be aiming to purge demonic presences anyone or anything. He would only be getting in their way. And if he were with them, then there were the odds he would be reporting back... to his even stupider commander.

She waltzed ahead of the idiot, smirking at him as she passed before falling into pace with Janus. Reika was thankfully distracted by some weed on the ground so she wouldn't be interrupted... at least not immediately.

Virie let her hand brush Janus' arm as she leaned closer to him, settling him with a thoughtful expression. "I have a proposition for you," She began smoothly, her voice silky. "While I do hate you as much as I'm sure you hate me, I feel we may just hate each other a tad less than that idiot back there," She said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"When we go back to headquarters... why don't we just leave him there? I have no use for him and he will only slow up my... ambitions. But perhaps if an accident were to... befall him when we reached Resmyrd, there would be no choice but for him to stay behind. And we, of course, as his ever-so-noble companions would carry on in his stead." She smiled back at Ryu, now in a sweet fashion before returning her gaze to Janus.

He was a demon and true to his nature. And if there was one thing demons liked more than making bargains, it was pursuing their own selfish goals.


Her face was a bright red, cheeks puffed up and eyes squeezed shut with her incoming sobs. She was still frightened, hiccuping and continuing her wails Bad things always happened when there were loud noises. Icky sounds that made her ears hurt! But then, the sun was suddenly destroyed in the sky and terrified, she opened up her eyes wide to see what had caused such a thing to happen. She hadn't tampered with the--oh! The sun hadn't exploded after all.

It was a tall man, a really tall and large man with long red hair. He must've cast a shadow since he was so big--he blocked out the sun's rays! She had thought the chiming noise had been the sun going boom but it had just been bells. She couldn't see any on him though, where was he hiding them? She sniffed, wiping at her eyes as she stared at him.

Hey, kiddo. Pst.” He pressed his finger to her forehead before removing it. With some grandiose hand gestures, the powder he had taken out of his pouch soon disappeared.. only to be replaced by a flower! She stared at it, wide-eyed at the blue petals. How had he made that appear?

“See? Why cry when the world is so beautiful?” She sniffed, not remembering when she had stopped crying. She scrunched up the corners of her dress, dabbing at her eyes as she gazed at the flower he was offering her. With her small hands, she plucked it from his and stared at it, pushing her nose right against the petals to breathe in the smell. She inhaled too quickly and sneezed off to the side, several times in fact.

She sniffled again but smiled as she looked back at the flower, oblivious to her running nose. "Are you a magic man?" She asked, deciding to put the flower behind her ear so it wouldn't get lost. If she kept it in her hands, she might accidentally crush it since she tended to hold on to things tightly. "I like magic, I can do it too!" She said excitedly, reaching into her pocket to take out her globe.

She wasn't a very complicated girl at all and rarely understood the significance of secrecy. So she had absolutely no qualms about showing off her abilities to this strange magic man who could make powder into flowers. She blew over her snowglobe, some bubbles appearing out of the other side and floating over to his face. They popped on contact with his skin and she giggled, blowing again to repeat the process.

Yes, she had completely forgotten the reason she came to Purgatory in the first place.

The setting changes from arkanvale to Purgatory


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Zilocke Thane Character Portrait: Ilyana Ree
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#, as written by Ion


‘Magic’ was a bit of a misnomer for what he did, but from a kid, Zilocke was willing to let it slide. The angel—he was pretty sure she was an angel, though he had limited experience to guess from—produced a snowglobe then, and it wasn’t long before he found himself assailed by, of all things, bubbles. A few of them popped on the rougher edges of his facial hair, and a few others on his nose or cheeks, and he grinned widely. “You and I are going to get along spectacularly, kiddo.”

Producing a handkerchief from somewhere in one of his many pockets, he dabbed carefully at the little girl’s face until she was free of tears and mucus, then combusted the fabric, holding the flame far enough away from both of them that it wouldn’t cause any inadvertent damage. It became ash in his hand, and this was picked up by the wind to drift away somewhere he knew not. He was often quite like that, himself. He wondered if this girl had any more direction than he did, and cocked his head, setting the bell woven in his hair to chiming.

Shrugging to himself, the large alchemist rose, taking the girl with him and setting her easily on his shoulders. “All right, little Miss. Two questions.” He held up a pair of fingers for emphasis once he was certain she was holding on enough that she wouldn’t fall right back off again. He started walking, then, long, easy strides that ate ground in the way a starving man eats hot food. For all that though, he seemed the furthest thing from rushed. “What’s your name, and where are you going?”

She had been more focused on the bell in his hair, she had finally discovered the source of that chime! She wanted to reach up and prod the bell several times to make it jingle but before she had a chance to, she found herself flying momentarily into the air! Her eyes were wide in pure delight and she immediately held out her arms as if to flap them to prolong her flight.

Somehow this man had mastered flying, all she had to do was stay on his shoulders! She happily flapped her arms as he guided her, only pausing briefly to stare at the fingers in front of her face. "My name...?" Oh! She knew the answer to that question! "Ilyana! I'm Ilyana and my last name rhymes with weeeeeeeee." She leaned in real close to his ear as if this was a really important secret. "Pssst, it's Ree." She giggled as she pulled back, resuming her motions.

"I don't... remember where I'm going though," She faltered and furrowed her brows. She was here to fight something... someone? Bad shadow ants? "Um, I think I am supposed to be battling shadow ants with long capes!" She embellished a little to make her story a bit cooler, since regular old shadow ants didn't sound very fearsome. But shadow ants with capes, now those were worth adversaries.

Ilyana Ree, was it? Interesting name; it didn’t sound so different from some of the dialects around here, but then he supposed that was irrelevant. As for where she was going… shadow ants with long capes, was it? Well, definitely a greater task than shadow ants with short capes. Everyone knew that only bards and fools wore short capes. “My, my, Miss Ilyana, that does sound awfully important. And you’re in luck! I think we’re supposed to be going to the same place.” He’d take her to Resmyrd; it was where everything important seemed to be coalescing at the moment anyway. The letter of his summons wasn’t very specific, but unlike he often chose to portray himself, Zilocke was not an idiot. Given all he was capable of seeing, it would have been a massive oversight not to notice the disturbances in the passages between this world and the next.

“My name is Zilocke, but since that’s a boring and silly name, you can call me Zee. And then we can rhyme! Won’t that be fun?” He picked up humming a tune to himself as they walked, partly to occupy his time and partly to see if he could coax the kid into singing along. It had been so long since he’d met anybody interesting—he’d almost forgotten what it was like, really. Days in his shop were just mundane people coming by to ask him for mundane things. It was really a small-scale miracle that he hadn’t just up and left sooner.

His footsteps carried them out of town and onto the road, which at this stage of the journey was made mostly of dirt, deep ruts carved into it where the wheels of wagons and carriages had passed countless times over interminable years. Out beyond civilization, the world was oddly quiet, and he had the vague sense that nature was holding her breath in anticipation of something—or perhaps bracing herself for something. It was vaguely disquieting, but he made no sign of it, continuing to hum along with his surprisingly-agile treads as he went, setting himself and by extension the angelic child on his shoulders into a comfortable traveling rhythm.

The setting changes from purgatory to Arkanvale


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lucian Faust Character Portrait: Akira Hikaati Character Portrait: Zilocke Thane Character Portrait: Ilyana Ree
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#, as written by Igari

Lucian Faust

He felt breath hitting against his cheek, a warm presence that could only be associated with the exorcist that had been sleeping not too long ago. My my. This was rather bold of him. There were a multitude of, admittedly, none too decent thoughts that went through his mind. (C'mon, he was a demon, really) And he was absolutely certain that all of them would catch Akira off guard and be completely successful. Perhaps he shouldn't be that me... nah.

He lazily opened one eye rather slowly and reached up, grasping Akira's collar to pull the human closer to him. "Come now, I don't think I'm as daunting as Sleeping Beauty. I've even taken the time out to make sure I don't have on any of those ridiculous frills. So go on, my prince, awaken me from my slumber." He said with a cool grin before closing his eyes casually.

His heart shot to his throat, closing off any attempts at getting air back into his lungs as he was suddenly pulled straight down towards Lucian. How the hell... was the demon awake this whole time? The exorcists eyes widened in shock and embarrassment. If only the darkness were a bit darker... he was sure that the demon had seen his brilliantly red face with their proximity.

He tried to pull away, but the grip was tight and he couldn't get very far. With his heart thumping rapidly in his chest, Akira wasn't entirely sure what to do next. Why had he thought it was a good idea in the first place? Oh, right... he'd been feeling a little odd right before. Damned dream.

"L-let go... please," Akira stuttered, causing him to be even more flustered than before.

Lucian re-opened his eyes, raising his eyebrows very slowly at the other. This was honestly a bit too easy. "Sure," He said as he let go, but not before he gave a downwards tug to throw Akira off balance.

A sharp cry of surprise left his lips as he felt the demon's pull. In the next moment he found himself toppling off the bed from his precarious perch and thudding hard onto the wood floor. The exorcist groaned slightly as he rubbed the back of his head with his hand and propped himself up on an elbow.

"What was that for? Damnit..." he cursed softly, wincing lightly.

The demon shrugged before straightening with a yawn, more for show than anything else as he wasn't tired. Now, he could've simply slid off the bed and helped Akira up like a decent person. But Lucian wasn't a decent person, not in the slightest. So instead, he rolled off the bed and angled himself so he could effectively pin the exorcist to the ground before there could be any protests.

"You seemed troubled," His voice was now almost a soft purr. Really, letting his guard down around a demon. "Bad dreams?"

Akira's eyes widened again as Lucian dropped down over him. Before he could even get away, he was pinned there. Damn the demon was strong... but then again, Lucian wasn't really human, now was he? His heart fluttered at Lucian's question. Was it even possible to keep secrets from him?

"I... I-I'm fine, Lucian," he stammered breathlessly, "It was... nothing," he turned his head sideways, looking away from Lucian. He bit his tongue, that was probably a stupid thing to say.

"Mmhmm..." Lucian trailed off as he lifted one of his hands to run a finger down the side of Akira's cheek. "So it's 'nothing' that has you all flustered and makes you gaze upon my face while you think I'm sleeping?" He asked slowly, as if completely oblivious to the position he had put the exorcist in.

"It was..." Akira stopped, a sigh leaving him. Telling Lucian that it was nothing again wouldn't solve the problem. The touch across his face had multiple affects. It sent shivers down his spine, it felt pleasant also and his mouth went dry slightly.

"I... I don't know who it was, or even if it was real, but a cloaked man came to me. He told me that I couldn't get away, that you couldn't protect me. He has plans for me. For everyone. Then he..." Akira stopped, his free hand clenching into a fist. Could he really tell Lucian that the cloaked man had killed him in his dream? It even sounded crazy just thinking about it.

The archdemon narrowed his eyes slowly. Things were more serious than he had anticipated. If even now, in dreams... He had to keep a calm mind, however. To let Akira see even a moment of discomfort would be unwise for the two of them. He kept his composure as he regarded the exorcist, prompting him. "Then he?"

"Shoved his hand through my chest," he answered softly. He took a moment before he continued, "I woke up right after. I can still feel where he injured me," his head turned to look up at Lucian then, "I don't know why but I just felt like... I'm missing something in life. There's so much more I should be doing that I'm not. And I think... I think that..." frustratingly his blood boiled at the thought, burning his cheeks again, "You're part of that."

Lucian regarded him carefully before wordlessly getting up with a frown. Troubling. "Go back to sleep," He said dismissively without looking back at Akira. "You need it more than I do."

Akira sat up. He watched Lucian closely, eyes slightly narrowed, "You really think I can go back to sleep after that? Something's up. What is it, Lucian?" He stood up and went towards the demon. Was he hiding something from him? The sudden request for him to go to sleep was slightly... off.

"Don't hide anything from me. If it involves me, I should know about it."

Lucian glanced over at Akira and shook his head slowly. There was no way he could tell him. And by his reactions... well, he'd give the exorcist points for being tenacious. He sighed, turning to face his companion before stepping just close enough to grab Akira by his collar again and force the other to bend down a bit.

"Something like that? Would you perhaps want something more pleasant to dream about then?" He asked with a growing smirk.

He was avoiding the question. Damn him. Well, fine, he would let Lucian win this one. However, that didn't mean that Akira was done asking or pressing for answers. He was pulled down towards the demon, strong hands gripping his collar a second time.

"What would make me dream of something more pleasant?" he asked, genuinely wondering what it was that Lucian meant.

"You really make this too easy," He murmured with a slight roll of his eyes. He leaned up, keeping his gaze even with Akira's. This exorcist really didn't have any idea, did he? Under different circumstances, perhaps he'd feel bad for taking advantage of that innocence. But as it stood... nah.

He pressed his lips to Akira's calmly but didn't close his eyes, probably more for the sake of partially unnerving Akira than anything else. "Sweet dreams," He said, pulling back while simultaneously leaning back to pick up his cloak. He turned on his heel and headed towards the entrance-way, pausing briefly to address the exorcist one more time. "Oh, and try not to make a mess." He opened the door and let himself out. That should keep Akira busy... for now anyway.

Ilyana Ree

"Zeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!" She chimed happily as soon as she heard this new nickname. It did indeed make that funny noise with her name too! The one where the letters seemed to go together but they had different sounds at the very beginning so they were different words. She liked this tall man! He was fun and he could do magic too! Just like her! She was going to have lots of fun with him and they were going to battle the shadow ants with long capes. And then maybe get food because she had a rumbly in her tumbly that made her want to eat something.

His tune was mighty catchy! He had a hum that she liked. She may not have been as gifted as the other angels but if there was one thing all angels could do, it was to sing well. Maybe it was some trait they all shared? She never really knew. But the young girl happily joined in, her melodic voice matching his with almost eerie perfection. She moved her arms about to keep the tempo since if she wasn't careful, she could lose her place!

This man could REALLY fly fast. They must've been going 7 billion miles an hour! And that was a lot of billions! She couldn't even count that high, she only ever got as far as ten. But she knew a billion was more than a hundred... not as much as a thousand... oh wait, was she confused again? No, billion was the highest! Yeah, a billion was the highest there was so he was going that fast for sure!

She giggled to herself, lost in the music. The magic man didn't seem too rushed at all but she enjoyed the flight they were sharing. She wished she could really fly like him. Maybe he'd give her lessons! Also, maybe he'd help her train her grizzly bear to fly too. She had one, but it was in a large mountain cave. And it growled at strangers. But it liked her! She liked to throw fish at its face so it could eat. Heh!

Oh, was that a city? Ohhhh!

Her eyes lit up at the approaching surroundings. She hadn't even been paying attention! How had he gotten them there so--WHOA. He must've been a SUPER SPEEDY WARPY MAGE MAN. Wow! Zee was so cool and so amazing and he was her friend! They were definitely gonna be really powerful together. Aww, he was slowing down, they weren't flying anymore. Frowny face!

Then there was a ginormous flutter of doves, oh, no, those were wings coming their way. And not just any pair of wings. She knew who they belonged to and the little girl squealed joyfully.

"Rai rai!" She laughed before immediately jumping off the man's shoulders and rolling on the ground. She wriggled over to him while pretending to be a caterpillar. "Weeeee, what are you doing here?" She said with a very large smile, eding over towards him before wrapping her arms around his waist in a big hug.

The angel commander managed a smile as he gazed down at her. Ever the innocent one. It was a somewhat bittersweet feeling to see the little Ilyana--not all angels had escaped taint as she had. "Hello Ilyana," He greeted her with kindness while gently taking her hands away from his waist. The girl was a sweetheart but her grip was too tight for comfort. "I see you made it here alright?"

"Yes!" She nodded enthusiastically, waving her arms about. "The magic man got me here with his flying powers and he gave me this pretty flower!" She gestured to the flower in her hair. "He was really really nice and now he's going to help me battle shadow ants with long capes! Wait... are YOU here to battle them too, Commander?" She asked with wide eyes. Wow, this was just too amazing!

"Ah... not exactly," He chortled. "And by the magic man, could you by chance be referring to him?" Rai looked over at the man. This must've been the exorcist, Zilocke, that the order had told him and Treylion about. "Come Ilyana, there are warm biscuits inside and I'm sure you're hungry from your journey. There will be much to--"

The girl was already bounding off with a loud "weeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!" towards the building as she flapped her wings. Her mouth was watering at the thought of food in her belly, yum yum~ "I'll race you, Zee!" She called over her shoulder, trying her best to run there so she could get the biscuits first. They were her favorite yummy treat after all.

The setting changes from arkanvale to Purgatory


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lucian Faust Character Portrait: Akira Hikaati Character Portrait: Zilocke Thane Character Portrait: Leiriya Character Portrait: Ilyana Ree
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#, as written by Siryn

The door closed and his face was a brilliant red color. His lungs seemed to forget what air was and he stood there breathlessly for several moments. He had been totally unnerved with Lucian kissing him, not to mention that demon didn't even blink throughout it. Akira slowly reached up and brushed his lips that tingled with the reminder of having Lucian's warm mouth on his.

Finally, air squeezed out of his chest and he took a deep breath to compensate. Turning just slightly, he dropped down on the edge of the bed, still in a daze. Several minutes passed and he was still like that. It took a moment, but he felt weary again, eyes heavy and sleep begging to take him away.

The exorcist tilted backwards till he was sprawled out across the bed a second time. He gazed at the ceiling, but the image didn't last for long. His eyes closed without his realizing it as his thoughts were centered on Lucian. The kiss burned along his lips and his thoughts wavered. Dreams collided with one another, all of them around the demon. They were most certainly... pleasant dreams.

Morning the following day

Akira moved down the street slowly, the sunlight bright as it started to make it's way towards the center of the sky. He hadn't said a word to Lucian regarding what had happened the night before. To be honest he was still a bit in shock. What was he supposed to say to the arch demon anyway? Even so, he was pretty sure the damned man knew about the dreams too right after.

Akira growled softly to himself, his mind in turmoil over the situation. With a slight shake of his head, he glowered at anything and everything before him. The exorcist continued that pace for some time, lost in his own thoughts, his senses not even stretched to pick up anything around him. He was aiming to leave the small town behind, thinking that they'd caught the spirit the night before and that was that.

The closer they got to the far gate, though the less and less people were around. It was a strange thing and had Akira been paying attention he would have noted it too. As it was, it took him several minutes to even think that his not seeing people was a bit odd. He slowed his pace and glanced around. After a moment, he finally stopped all together, about fifteen feet from the gates.

"Lucian..." He said softly. He didn't voice the rest, pretty sure that the demon had already caught on to the situation far before he did. Akira ground his teeth. Fool he thought to himself as he reached back to unsheathe his weapons. His body electrified, crackling with the bluish white light of his power. Slowly he took a step forward, trying to sense if anything was around them.

The moment his weight shifted, the cobblestone ground beneath him collapsed. A gasp of shock escaped him, the only sound he made as he plummeted about eight feet down. As he hit the ground the rocks around him juggled his body like a ball and the edge of his knife sliced into the meat of his forearm, cutting deep. His hand immediately released the weapon as he hissed in pain and clenched his fingers around the wound.

Warm blood spilled over his fingers and covered his hand and clothing. However, the deep cut was the least of his worries as a sound in the darkness of where he fell caught his attention. Akira looked up sharply. The rocks around him obscured his view and so he had to shift his body to look over the piles.

The moment he sat up to see what it was that was there, a sickly feeling filled his stomach. Very similar to the night before. That feeling increased as something slid around his throat, tightened and pulled him down into the corridor. His body slammed into the walls of the tunnel, a cold liquid soaked his back as he was pressed there. His hand gripped the slimy thing that was wrapped around his throat, blood dripping from his arm profusely.

The other arm was caught by the same thing and whatever it was slowly twisted around his arm up to his shoulder, tightening as it went. Akira's heart beat rapidly as he looked out into the darkness. The tar like form before him shifted and it's mouth parted. A grate some ways down shed just enough light from the street above to give the thing a bit of shape.

"Scream for me," it growled in an inhuman voice, "Bring Lucian to me so I can rip him apart."

It was indeed the same creature that had attacked them the night before. Akira ground his teeth, narrowing his eyes at the creature in defiance. His breath huffed in and out of his chest as it was hard to breath past the black tendril around his throat.

"Why don't you kill me and get it over with," he spat out, having just enough air to finish the thought.

"Funny... human. Don't rush your own death. There'll be plenty of time to break your body apart and then let you die. A simple little scream is all I need," it coaxed, "Here, let me help you."

The tendril around his arm and shoulder tightened, pulling outwards. Akira's head fell forward and then backwards, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched tightly. A slight groan of pain escaped him, but not a scream, as his shoulder was dislocated. The tar creature gave an inhuman growl of anger and Akira smiled slightly at him, triumphant only for a moment.

Claws raked down his entire front, tearing apart his black robe and white shirt beneath it. Blood splattered forth and Akira issued a slight cry of pain that echoed just a bit in the tunnel. He winced inwardly, angry at himself for such weakness. The tar like wraith grinned, the black mouth pulling back to reveal more tar like teeth.

"Much better, was that so hard? No need to push yourself, little human. That'll come later," it hissed gleefully.

Akira coughed, a bit of blood coating his lips and falling from the corner of his mouth. He lifted his head up just a bit as it had fallen forward slightly in the tendrils grip around his throat. A grin spread across his lips as he gazed at the creature, his vision was slightly dim, but he was still conscious.

"I'm not done yet," he retorted and his body lit up with his electricity. He pulled every ounce of energy he had into the power. Drawing it all together he aimed to bring not only the wraith before him down, but the ceiling as well.


Ah. This was the place. The building in the middle of nowhere, seemingly out of sorts. It was exactly where she needed to be. Leiriya was most certain that her presence hadn't gone unnoticed either by the angel commander Rai. The demon approached slowly, even so.

She moved up the small incline, almost seemingly taking her time with not a care in the world. As she reached the door, she stood for a long moment before lifting a hand and knocking gently upon the wood. Leiriya waited to be greeted, wondering as she stood there, what kind of exorcist and angel she'd been paired up with.

If anything, she hoped that things would be semi interesting as things down in Inferno had gotten rather boring as of late. Being what she was... things got rather dull quickly. Even so, she also wished for the job to be done. Hopefully her group was both effective and quick at their jobs. If not... well, that remained to be seen.

The setting changes from purgatory to Arkanvale


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xana Druj Character Portrait: Zilocke Thane Character Portrait: Liriael Amaryllis Character Portrait: Takeuchi Hiroto Character Portrait: Leiriya Character Portrait: Ilyana Ree
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#, as written by Ion


Before long had passed, at least by his reckoning of time, there was another influx of metaphysical stuff in his range, this a great deal more than little Ilyana produced, and he looked up at about the same time as she climbed down, apparently quite familiar with this new angel. Couldn’t well be anything else, what with the pearly-white wings and all. Now, maybe an average man would have felt a little put-off by all the supernatural happenings in one day, gone back to his house, and lived his life out peacefully until he died, equally peacefully but boring.

Fortunately, Zilocke had never really been an average man.

“I would be the magic man, yes,” he said with a bright grin, nodding his head more-or-less politely. The older angel seemed a lot less interesting than the little one, though, so when she challenged him to a race, he accepted immediately, catching up with her in a few easy, loping strides. “Oh, I almost have you!” he called dramatically, but the stooped in his run to catch her under the arms and hoist her before him. “But what’s this? She flies! And so quickly!” He feigned a great deal of shock and struggle, and indeed, it was ‘Ilyana’ who crossed the threshold first, and the loser obligingly set her down in a seat by the tray of biscuits and took an armchair himself, this a little further away from the sugary treats.

He presumed that the other angel would follow them in, but honestly, he wasn’t sure he had any business being here. Certainly, this was far too much of a coincidence to mean that he wasn’t intended to be here, but that wasn’t the important thing. If someone wanted him to be a certain place or a certain way, he was usually disposed not to be, just out of a certain kind of contrariness in his disposition. Still, he supposed he’d hear them out, see what they had to say. The whole ‘save the world’ pitch probably wasn’t going to work as well as they were expecting, but then, this fellow was an angel. It probably always worked on other angels.

Before anyone could properly get to speaking, though, there was a knock on the door, and it corresponded to yet more supernatural substance, this different in character from that exuded by the angels. Honestly, it was a bit cloying on his senses, and the eye with the patch over it itched uncomfortably.

So naturally, he ignored it, and his reservations, and went to open the door. Pulling it open, he blinked a few times just to make sure his uncovered eye was working properly, then smiled, the expression somewhere between pleasant and lascivious, though it could not quite be called either. “Well,” he commented lightly, “this just keeps getting more and more interesting, doesn’t it?” Apparently, there was now a demon in the company.

Stepping aside to admit the woman, who seemed to be blindfolded, he returned to his chair and waited for someone to start talking. He could do all of it himself, of course, though he didn’t really see the need as of yet, much as he did like to talk. They probably had different things to say than he would, after all, and letting them do so was only polite.


The terrain they covered on their way to the gate was thankfully mostly flat, and the most predominant emotion leaking from Liriael at the moment was relief. The less the steps of herself and the concentrating Meister were interrupted by stones or inclines, the better chance they had of maintaining their hold. Their progress was somewhat slowed for the boy, who seemed not to move with utmost haste, but upon closer inspection, she decided that he was not sluggish on purpose, but rather because he had to be.

So she walked at his pace, keeping sight on the demon leading them northward. This would simply have to be the way of it for now, and though she’d never been forced to keep a foe this powerful bound for this long, her voice did not let up, and her efforts were bolstered by those of the human who walked beside her. Sweat beaded on Liri’s brow, and fatigue slowly, insidiously, began to creep up on her, but she pushed it aside. She had fought battles longer and harder than this one before, and though she knew she could end it by simply slaying the Wraith, she had no desire to remove it from existence when it could be returned with a little more effort to the plane on which it belonged.

Eventually, Xana stopped, and this was something Liri was unspeakably grateful for. She stopped as well, standing back far enough that the demon would have plenty of room to work. She did not know what was entailed in opening a gate, as she had never seen it done before, but she didn’t want herself or Takeuchi getting in the way, inadvertently or otherwise.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Virie Raymbraint Character Portrait: Lucian Faust Character Portrait: Janus Abraxis Character Portrait: Ryu D'Tari Character Portrait: Akira Hikaati Character Portrait: Zilocke Thane Character Portrait: Leiriya Character Portrait: Ilyana Ree
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#, as written by Igari


Well fuck.

Lucian had been positioned on the roof of one of the buildings, having found that to be the prime spot to collect his thoughts. This whole entire trip was a complete headache. His eyebrow twitched as he straightened, a sickening feeling rippling through him for a few seconds. It had been hours since he had left Akira alone in the room and he was more than aware that the exorcist had decided to leave. The man looked a touch nervous as Lucian followed behind him, keeping a set distance. The demon wasn't that interested in pursuing Akira or addressing the previous night.

The two of them progressed through the streets, neither saying a word to the other. He was more than certain the other had caught on to his silence and that must've been primarily why conversation was non-existent. Lucian paused before Akira did, tensing as he sensed something off from a distance. The warning from Akira came late, approximately 6 seconds later than when Lucian had stopped his walk. He heard his name from the man's lips but didn't vocally respond.

The ground collapsed from underneath Akira and Lucian's eyebrows raised slowly as he watched the exorcist descend below him.
.... He was not dealing with that. No. Absolutely not.

He leaned down, catching sight o the hem of Akira's cloak as he fell. Really. This was irritating. Why did he have to deal with this? Wait, he didn't. Not at all. That sickening feeling was rising in his gut but he was going to ignore it this time. He could already feel this was a trap being laid out for him. Even if he did go down after him, he was pretty damn sure that he'd be put in an uncomfortable situation. Either way he was fucked. So why deal with it now when he could be an asshole and ditch the exorcist?


He turned on his heel, slipping his hands into his pocket. Hm, how to occupy himself before the enemy got bored and realized that no, the demon was not coming to the party.

Virie hid her annoyance well. She was a cool woman by nature and always prided herself at being in control during all situations And she most certainly had not let that slip during her little exchange with Janus. But she was annoyed at the demon. How dare he think to question her? He should've merely conceded. But it was never quite that simple, now was it? No, he was just as proud as she, though maybe not as ambitious. She wanted far more than he could ever dream of and she was not some worthless "meat bag" who would let her life pass her by without achieving that which she had set out to do. No, she would push on. And succeed.

He would not stop her. No one would.

There was no talking on the trip back, no exchange of witty banter. She didn't look back at the other two and kept her lead. Reika had caught up to her somewhere during the adventure and had certainly tried to invoke the exorcist in conversation. But Virie was not in the least bit interested and the youkai soon gave up after being shot down several times.The trip back to Resmyrd was uneventful and by the time they saw the city in the distance, Virie was already a nice distance from the other two.

Who cared about reporting at the same time? That stench, that feeling, clearly there were angelic beings here. Ugh. She better make this fast. The first thing on her agenda would be to find Treylion, then she'd have to stomach her disgust long enough to converse with Rai and set her plan into motion. She had no intentions of leaving this city with Ryu; she could just dump him here or (preferably) leave him out to starve and have no direction to go in. He didn't belong and he never did.

She had no desire to actually fulfill her task. She was just going through the simple motions of it. And screw the consequences--she could deal with those later. She had absolutely no worries about what would happen if she were caught. She was certain she could talk her way out of any situation. Hmph.

Reika was already getting fairly excitable and had bounded ahead towards the entranceway to the Order. The exorcist rolled her eyes, clearly and evidently displeased. Ugh. Her mouth twisted into a tight smile as she laid her hands on the doors and pushed them open. She struggled a bit, the doors were several times larger than herself but she didn't let it hinder her progress. Janus was probably vying for an opportunity to get under her skin after their little discussion earlier. Bastard.

As she entered the hall, she heard a variety of excited voices and grimaced, eyebrows furrowing. Time to get this over with.


She was happy! The crumbs from the biscuits were already coating her lap completely and the small angel ate contently. She glanced over at Zee, who had taken the seat not far from her. She smiled at him, widely at that, some food bits accidentally falling from her mouth. Oops! She forgot not to grin when she was chewing. It always made such a large large mess. Oopsie! She laughed and stuffed another biscuit into her mouth with her tiny hands, scattering more of the food all over the place.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Zee walking to the door, huh? Were there people there? She paused in her eating, biscuit halfway to her mouth and another clump in her hand. There was a weird lady there, she could see her from behind the tall magic man. But her friend seemed at ease! He just plopped down next to her--Ilyana couldn't really hear what he told her all that well. All she knew was that this lady was kind of scary so she wasn't going to want to sit in her lap any time soon. Plus, that lady didn't look like she liked diapers! Which were awesome.

She took her large plate and slid off her chair, waddling slightly over to Zee before hoisting herself on to his lap with some difficulty. She squished as she sat and relaxed a little when she noticed that Rai Rai was not far behind the blindfolded woman. He let himself into the room smoothly, moving around the group with a slight nod to everyone.

"Ilyana," He began, addressing the small child. "Why don't you go into the other room and play? I will need a moment with the magic man and the woman." She wrinkled her nose at him, she didn't like being excluded!

"But Rai Rai! I wanna be in the play date too!" She protested, spraying crumbs on to the front of her. Rai smiled softly and shook his head gently.

"Not now, Ilyana. Go into the other room and I promise someone will be along to play in a bit." She puffed up her cheeks, gazing up at Zee for support. It wasn't that he ignored her but he did seem focused as well... She poutily huffed, grabbing the entire plate of sweets off the table and sliding off his lap with a plop as she landed on the floor. She didn't really understand what was going on any way and it seemed too serious for her.

The small angel let herself out of the room, proudly carrying the entire tray of desserts in front of her. Mm, yum yum! At least she could have a treat! Her displeasure forgotten, she continued along with her sweets, rounding the corner to the room Rai Rai had gestured to faintly.

"Oi wench." She stopped--who said that? She looked around with wide eyes, swallowing the biscuit she was chewing on with a large gulp. "Over here, wench." There was that word again! But she had no idea what it meant! Ilyana caught sight of a woman with violet hair, a pair of magenta eyes glowering at her from up above. The angel was confused and furrowed her brows.

"What's a wench?" She asked, the woman only rolling her eyes in response.

"Where is Treylion?" The tone was curt, a contrast to the zooming fox gliding along in the air.

"Um... you mean the scary bad man?" That was all she knew about him! He and Rai Rai sometimes met up but Ilyana knew nothing about any of that... She only knew that she was scared of him! "I haven't seen him, he's mean! But Rai Rai was in there." She pointed behind her, fingertips coated with pastry cream. The woman noticed this and wrinkled her nose in disgust, not even saying anything as she walked around the child. Ilyana stood alone in the hallway for a few seconds more before her nose began to feel stuffy. What had she done? Why had that woman been so mean to her too? It made her... really.... really sad!

And with that revelation, she started to sob again, dumping all her sweets on the ground as she bawled.