Meeting Edingel

[15:32] He's worse than the child killers, Eztli says. And for all that is worth, she's well aware of the fact. Without having him to eavesdrop or tamper with her pacing or content, her words and idiomatic tendencies make a notable shift. No longer chirpy, showy or arrogant. More so direct and rather apathetically distant.

"I remember how you fought Viridian." The name is not alien to her, surprisingly. "You're the other man with the unhallowed lightning, aren't you?" She questions, uncovering her one healthy arm. The left, her deft one, remains guised by the cape itself. Broken, bruised, made impossible for use.

Her long nailed appendage raises, palm open.

"You use it too, don't you?" Her inquiry, abstract, is better off left for proper illustration. She shows, she doesn't tell.

A rippling current of dark purple mana erodes from her slender hand, coalescing itself into a single dark orb that gyrates at a modest speed. From use alone, all of the polish and adorning pigment over her nails withers and disappears, the aspect of which changes to become more pointed - like small dagger heads.

"How did you achieve it?

How could you effectively combine the two? How do you keep it in check and tune?"

She assumes he can do so. The council of Barsburg wasn't known to be appreciative of occultists, was it?
(Edingel Sinaldine)
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[16:06] The questions that were laid towards him were, for the most part, able to be answered by the girl herself. She knew all too well of what he possessed. She had seen it. She may even have been inspired by it in some sort of fashion. It mattered not, truly. A crimson, unflinching gaze follows the darkness that coalesces into a single orb, floating and threatening to erupt and strike at any given moment. True to its nature.

It's only after a few moments that he finally does speak, granting more than a mere answer to Edingel from the get-go, but a surprising truth.

"I do not remember having fought him." He states, taking a few bold steps forward, allowing his presence to coat the air with malice.

"The world knows of my abilities. Of the destruction I am capable of. They do not know the extent of it all, yet that matters little right now. I seek not recognition; my goals lie far above that."

Bruno finally stops mere inches away fromthe young girl.

"From your words alone I can see that your methods are flawed. Wrong. You will never achieve anything if you move forward with that mindset."

A pause, necessary for the piercing red gaze to delve further into her eyes.

"Keeping it in check."
(Bruno pyr Aertas)
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[16:21] "You don't?" She mutters, her eyelids narrowing slightly in bewilderment and a clear lack of understanding. "You don't remember killing him in front of us? In front of that once priest who now wears your uniform?" The teenager pokes on, her doubts genuine.

Only then is he properly approached by a figure that instigates more open dread than what she'd gauged earlier. In truth, she'd not expected a renowned figure of the rivaling empire to so openly boast his bizarre force - at least not without any sort of 'keeping-in-check'.

Malice, vengeful thoughts, vertigo? What fed it? Where did he find his approach? Was it in any way like hers?

Her pause is lengthy and vacant, as she only finds herself attempting to buy into the idea of how different the man's mojo is than what she'd anticipated. They're... similar, in some way? Would cheaply buying her way in with words not make any difference?

"I see." She follows up, taking note of the dry contour in his countenance. That of a faintly withering man - one who's seen his fair share of use and abuse. Though one who's made peace with it.

"So, you'd suggest I exercise it with transparence." That would cause her trouble, for sure. "I can't be excused to openly fight with it everywhere. They - at the academy - would place me on restraints, keep me under watch if word got out that I can do it."

She pauses.

"And if I can't use it, neither can I grow." An exhale seats itself deeply within her abdominal area before it is fumed out. "Then it can't be me who uses it.

It'll have to be someone else."

Glancing down over her own transmundane evocation of mana, she lets it grow out of size and revolve into a faint aura of miasma that rapidly withers a radius of grass around her.

"Someone who can afford to hold no restraint with it."
(Edingel Sinaldine)
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[16:36] Those who sought his expertise were normally far less experienced with the dark feelings within their hearts. They needed guidance from the very first step, but this one seemed to carry a wit to her. The words she had used to manipulate the young Beastkin who was with her were targeted. Precise. Methodical. Not unlike him, truly. His gaze seemed to analyze her as she spoke, as she thought, as she realized the conflict that hid in plain sight to him.

"That is a possibility. Mankind cannot grow when bound by shackles. Such restraints are normally brought upon humans by divines, primordials, stars, yet it seems as if an institution of teaching has granted themselves this right: To lord over those who seek to learn."

The Aertas's opinion on the matter was one that grew to be obvious with the way he spoke of it. A glance given to those passing by and a clear realization that such a discussion should not be held out in public.

"I see doubt in your eyes, but it is true. I do not remember that man or his death. The event was likely far more important to another than myself, and so, it will be theirs to treasure." He revealed - a vague explanation and a conclusion for himself to grasp how he could have forgotten.

"Nonetheless, their fear will be your weapon. No being can remain under the covers of darkness forever, and you have much... growing to do before it all falls apart. I suggest you avoid putting your life in jeopardy unless the truth matters less than the issue at hand.

.. And when you do? Find me."

His right hand extended forth, offering a shake.

"I am Bruno pyr Aertas. And I will be there when you find yourself needing to ascend. My aid is extended to all who grant me their loyalty. I seek nothing more from them."
(Bruno pyr Aertas)
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[17:01] A pair of naturally bright, though mostly irreflective hazel irises loom over the lightened ichor tone of Bruno's own pair of eyes. Receptive and meditative firsthand, like a student would oft show oneself as. Though subliminally cold, calculating and measuring - traits that Bruno, in his cunning, had no doubt discerned thus far.

"They have. Though in truth, I've not a heart to say it's provided me a weakness. A difficulty, at most, though it comes with the boon of the perfect place to hide in plain sight."

She feeds the back and forth between subjects, looming her own set of distantly peering, slitted eyes over the palm of her own hand. It glows not purple, but a bright and dense tone of green. The skin and flesh warping effects of the occult, those that had changed the shape of her nails and dried out her skin, are quickly reverted. Tragically, the coloring tincture she had doesn't come back, unfortunate for Edingel who treasured the care she'd borne for her manicure too much.

"The academy is full of youth, naturally. The cover of being a student offers the right platform for me to abuse that vigor, to leech on it.

Many a men value coin and estate as their biggest assets, thus they protect it with their lives. Little do they know,..." A pause, as the viridescent halo wrapped around her wrist dissipates. Edingel forms a fist, raises it vertically in front of her own nose. "... time is the most precious thing they have.

And it, too, can be stolen."

Maybe there's more to her than just cunning, charm and plotting intent. Bruno, in all of his dreadful glory, is spared an additional hint of such. He speaks further, vouching for her efforts in some shape, though warning her of the inevitability of her persona's compromise.

"Our common strain of polar magic is surely the right push to carry me to success. I only fear that I'm not a vast cut above the rest anymore. That much, I'll need to circumvent. Otherwise, it will be as you say, and I'd be jeopardizing - I'd think - a bit more than my life."

Her less skilled, though unscathed appendage flies over to twine with his own in an elegant and firm grip. It is shaken.

Bruno pyr Aertas. That suffix. That name. They're nobility. Edingel's lip faintly drops for a second. A hint of jealousy inches through. Pride she couldn't take in her origin exuberates from the Achyonan artificer. One day she would - she'd swear.

"Loyalty is a difficult card to play, sir.

It would cut me off from some bonds with which I could benefit. The Meztin kid, for instance."

A soft hum, as their hands break up. She gestures to her chest elegantly, duplicity borne aplenty - though with graceful intent.

"As such, Edingel Sinaldine…" Her introduction is indirect, though clearly meant. "... surely could not directly associate in such a manner."

A soft smirk, one that struggles to not become a proud and smug sneer, forms over her facial features.

"However, I've no doubt that a certain other with as much grace would put a friendly face to the proposal, sir Aertas."

Ah.
(Edingel Sinaldine)
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[17:18] With a solid shake and a proposition met with no other than the girl's own vision, own goals being hinted at was all too suitable of someone who's talents with manipulating the world around them lied. She was no different to him in that aspect; wanting to hide in order to keep up a façade none could pierce through. Bruno had done the same for years before the world was presented to his talents, to the full extent of his capabilities.

Where a smirk was cast his way the man's expression remained an utterly neutral one. He never had been one to show much emotion, though outbreaks of madness did manage to show his humanity ironically enough. Lips do part, instead.

"Loyalty does not have to be openly expressed. I am no stranger to lies and deception, and I care not for what those I bestow my blessing upon do with their lives, so long as my message is heard and spread. So long as the hand which reaches for me does not hide a knife within its counterpart's grasp.

The growth of mankind begins with tearing away the shackles of the divine, of society, of morality. Humans seizing control of their destiny over allowing those who do not walk these lands to rule them.

I aim to be but a shepherd to those who need to find their way."

The grace with which she moved was unlike his practiced, nearly robotic motions. The genuinely synthetic left hand he possessed displayed Bruno's own embodiment of his beliefs as fingertips reached up to brush aside a strand of hair. He was no enthusiast of proximity, leaving this fear and disdain of his to fuel his madness - his instanity further.

He hated his own motion, and yet, its existence alone made him stronger. Crazier. Bolder.

"You may do as you will with your life, Miss Sinaldine, though I expect you to do as you will with other people's lives as well."

He was not above expecting greatness from those who had the potential to display it, those who possessed the grace and wit to change the world. The Aertas leans a bit closer, a hushed voice coming forth.

"Do not let anyone stop you from doing as you wish. When the time comes those who have hated you for your nature will revere you for your strength.

For your youth."

The man slowly pulls back, the window of his soul reflecting a hue as malignant as Hel itself awaiting naught but satisfaction.
(Bruno pyr Aertas)
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[17:50] There's a clear margin of disparity in her big, winded motions and his own stoic behavior. Though she's used to such, Edingel tends to be the bombastic, egocentric performer among her peers too. There's one too many broody and reserved types in Basilisk for anyone to make a different case.

Instead, as she's addressed with some more mentoring demeanor, she instead turns receptive and serene again.

He's different. Different from what she'd expected most loyal achyonites to resemble, though mechanical and apathetic all the same - only in its own special way.

Bruno's following words, hushed and encouraging, certainly work to give her that extra push. Maybe she'd take these ideas to solitude, maybe she'd push them on the field - under her new persona.

Thoughts arise, shapeless and manic. Faint but there. Her gaze becomes lost and unfocused for a moment, before she snaps back. A soft nod follows, slow and pronounced.

His image, augmented by the faint essence of Achlys resonating around him, so far alien to her, can only be matched by only that of the Coven's Supreme, another to have taken a liking to her.

So otherworldly. Could she, too...?

"It's been pleasant, Sir Bruno. You have my thanks for your time and... vow of confidence.

I've no doubt that you'll be seeing more of me again soon."
(Edingel Sinaldine)
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[17:57] It was an exchange between them. For she could understand how vast the world surrounding them was, how far her wings could spread and he was gifted the opportunity to see a reflection of himself in this young girl. One that was far from exact, yet similar enough for their aspirations to be greater than most.

Cunning. Manipulative. Calculated.

All of those were possible through both grace and a lack thereof. Those eyes of his witnessed the realization within hers that the future which awaited her was far greater than she had once thought.

.. Potentially so, at least.

"Feel free to seek me if you need an object of yours made."

His words were no shot in the dark, but instead a hint, a proposition and an offer laced in words so innocent. A testament to his own ability to play the world like a chess board.

Piece by piece.
Move by move.

Patience was key.
(Bruno pyr Aertas)
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[18:08] He even goes as far as to outstretch an invitation to have an item made. Perhaps in an attempt to sponsor both her growth and potential as a helpful asset.

Of course, though there may be other hidden implications that she's unaware of, it's hardly something that she'd be willing to refuse. Gear - for starters - is an aspect she's fallen behind on.

"My thanks." She muses with another nod. "Perhaps I will." Her hand, now freely resting to the side of her frame, reaches to grip for the hilt of the blade she often uses.

A faint metallic sound sees the katana poke out of its sheathe. A quality weapon, for sure. Far better made than the average when it comes to mythril weaponry.

Familiar.

It's Elijah II's weapon. She'd bought it from Marcel all those years ago. And though it's good - it surely is nowhere near Longinus the Neutralizer, that dreaded impaler that had seen humiliated more thanonce.

"Until later, sir Bruno."
(Edingel Sinaldine)