Another use of Mana Overcast?

 "Get off of me!" Kyrian yelled as he fought against the multiple guards who carried him outside of the gates of whatever city he was held in. With his time being there. Kyrian was sure to see some faces that he couldn't help but glare at. But all along. He had been fighting against those who rushed him out.

Cracking a guards nose and snapping the others neck to only break the third one's spine was a hard enough task. But fighting against a multitiude of guards was nearly impossible. The collar around his neck restrained his powers. He hadn't heard a word from his ancestor, and to top it all off. He was still legless!

It wouldn't take long for Kyrian to be out of the front doors and into an open plain. But only for him to be rushed over to a nearby pond and thrown into with a hard kick to the gut.

Falling into the pond. Only to fight against the non-moving currents and try to bring himself to shore.

The only problem that Kyrian had. Was that he didn't know how to swim.

" Fuck you Cyano. . ." he thought of heavily as he pulled himself across the bed of the pond and up the side to finally grasp at land.

Gasping for air as he broke the water. He quickly pulled himself over to lay on his back panting hard. . . .

" Now what. . . ."


(Kyrian Hayes)
 Cyano would make her way to the east. It was more difficult then usual, but, through her contacts at the black gate it was still far easier for her then it was for most people. For now, she had things to do. Namely, finding Kyrian, who had gone missing. She wasn't entirely sure for how long exactly, but it was long enough that she needed to look for him at the very least.

After a quick juant through Nostvale, it would be time to search the plains. Luckily, it seemed it wouldn't take long. Within only a few short hours, she would find him. Or, part of him. The Ookami laying in the grass, missing a leg and soaked from the pond. Something told her that Kyrian had had a bad day.

Cyano would stand over him for a moment, before reaching out and nudging the Ookami with her foot. She wouldn't give any thought to the fact that she was in disguise, or to how evil it looked what with her Hellstorm Aura going. She would just try to get him awake for now.
(Escher Arch)
As Kyrian laid on the ground, his breathing now calm as he had several minutes to recouperate. He closed his eyes so he could get some rest. It was good to feel the grass once more. Oh how he missed the smell.

But now he only had to figure out how he was going to get back home from where ever he was. How would it be done? He had no idea of where to go. Much or less how he was going to get around with only one leg.

Only then, his peace wouldn't last to long. Soon a shadow would fall over his head as he laid there on the ground soaking wet. Was it one of those guards who came back to finish him instead of letting him go? Oh, he wasn't going to have it easy.

Taking a deep breath. Kyrian would wait for 2 heart beats before placing both plams down onto the ground. Then with a effort from his mid-section. He flipped himself up into a handstand to only push himself off the ground and aiming for Escher. Then he would push off her mid-section and start hop in the opposite direction only to fall again.

He would then turn around baring his fangs and yell at the black garbbed figure.

"What. . . You people just release me out of that hell hole to only bring me back? You already took my leg. What else do you want" he growled towards Escher
(Kyrian Hayes)
Escher would sigh for a moment. She figured he wouldn't recognize her. and, to be honest she was fine with that. But, she didn't need him fighting her. But, just in case, she wouldn't lower her hood. Rather, she would simply pull her notebook out of her bag, and hold it up to show Kyrian.

Firstly, Kyrian would notice just who's notebook it was, and would know only that person could have it. But, before he would call that out, she would shush him. She didn't know who could be watching. Even in a place as open as the plains, she personally knew there were people and things hiding everywhere.

She had no way to heal him, but already plans were in place for his leg. She had runes, and metals, so it wouldn't be too hard for her to make him something. Especially with the people she knew. But, she wouldn't talk about that yet. Rather, while she was in the east, beyond the notebook she would be how she was supposed to be.

"I leave you alone for a day or so. And, you lose a leg and disappear. If you weren't an apprentice, I would strike you down here. But, you are far more useful alive."
(Escher Arch)
Above- in the swathe of azure-blue that was Eternia's vibrant sky- a strange plume of pure blackness dips down; it resembles the arch of something like a solar flare... but this mass of darkness dims rather than illuminates, stripping away some of that blue to render it corrupted and fetid-black-

-and moments later, it would be seen that this was no celestial phenomena.

The mass of pure blackness descends- like a meteorite!- hurling towards the earth as a sphere of shade-tendrils mixed with Depraved ether; the plains were no strangers to heavenly impacts, but, this object was no less a foreboding anomaly... some seven seconds later, it strikes ground: but without impact, or sound.

Later- there's just a dull 'groan' of sorts on the now-stagnated winds, as drifting vapors of blackness disperse in a billowing plume about where the shade-meteor strikes. From it, Arilma sets forward... returning to the site of Shepherd's death, recent in his mind. It helped him to distinguish his own memories from that of the Mimic's- to divide himself, from the soul he'd absorbed.

But as he sets forward, towards the pond... the black-hooded, crowfeather-cloaked Occultist happens upon a queer sight: that of a single-legged boy, and an obvious Occultist with a proper look about them. A hand waves from the fellmage in languid gesture, as his bootheels bring him nearer...

Even with most of his hood foreshadowing his visage- the bristling amethyst-lines of purple-glowing scars about the young man's visage could be seen; Arilma's violet-and-black spidersilk tatters were visible, hanging over a patchwork leather suit tight-fitted and zipped down his torso to his nethers; he wore the Yokai-furred cloak of Yomi's Vicar, indicating this was indeed the dreaded Executioner of Nostvale.

But he showed no hostile intent- ... surely, not to strangers? "Greetings, sorcerer-" He began aloud- studying the partly-mangled Ookami. "-taking your time finishing this one...? I could offer some... suggestions! Yes, yes." He utters with a morbid glee- still coming closer...

Doubtlessly- whilst Arilma was not yet wiser- Cyano would recognize her foe from recent wars with the city of magisters and monsters, against the hordes and ghoul-knighthoods of Nostvale.
(Arilma)
 Soon to bark another remark. Kyrian would be silenced as he noticed a single notebook pulled out from within a bag that the figure held.

There was only two explainations of Escher holding the book. It was either that it was a person that he knew. Or of a person that had killed the person he knew.

Either answers wouldn't matter as he grew annoy'd and began to bark once more. But then was silenced. Answering his question with just a simple movement. It wouldn't take long for Kyrian to sit back and watch Escher stand there in his awe. All he could feel was pure joy as he stared up at the cloaked being and get lectured as he laid there defenseless on the ground.

It would take only a matter of seconds before the joyful beginning would turn into a tragic end. But who knows?

A dark sensation would appear out of nowhere. Automatically turning his soon to turn grin. Into a dark and saddened frown. It was almost as if the scenario had become life threatening. The atmosphere would soon begin to be harder the breath as if he felt choked.

The sky seemed to grow darker as the dark shades of the sky would fall down upon them. Then there it was.

"Greeting, sorcerer-"

A voice sweeping through the horizon. Baring it's deathly grasp onto all who opposed it.

Kyrian would look wide eyed at the figure who now seemed to be steps away from him and Escher within the matter of seconds.

'Where did this creature come from? How did he reach here so fast. " Kyrian would begin to think. It wouldn't take long for him to start thinking of multiple scenarios of ways that he could flee. But his missing limb had canceled any good chance of any of his ideas working. What was to become of this situation? Was this death as he knew it? He hoped not. . . .

Quickly scanning the surrounding and wondering what was the best course of action. Would it be to remain quiet and remain spoken too? Or to inform the new comer of just entering the little reunion.

"The guards just threw me out of jail . . . " He said in a low-tone of voice as he looked to the side. He would then add in the word

"Sir" at the end. He didn't know what came over him to be so blunt at the face of what could be death. But he did it, and there was no going back now
(Kyrian Hayes)
Escher would watch as the sky darkened, and seemingly spit out an odd looking meteor. She would step back a few feet, and let it fall undisturbed. It was certainly something new, but unlike Kyrian she wouldn't be afraid of it. Rather, she would only have one thought on her mind. That, that enterance was way too flashy. If one truly wanted to make an enterance, a menacing walk, or a simple bolt of hellstorm would suffice. But, oh well.

Again, as noted, Kyrian would seem to be afraid of the person. And, looking at him Cyano could tell why. He radiated Depravity. More then likely, he simply wasn't used to it. And, indeed Cyano hadn't sensed that much coming from a person since... Well, Judas had been in charge. Still, it didn't bother her too much.

Still, she would eye the area. The plains had no place to hide. And, in her bag there wasn't anything useful to use. Besides a couple of Isa Runes. But, they were small and weak. Made for preserving things, far too weak to hold someone like him for more then a few seconds really. So, that would be useless. No, she would need to go the old fashioned way. Talking her way out.

She would take Kyrian by the ear, and tug him behind her. No doubt he would be angry for a moment, but the Depravity oozing from the person before them would most likely convince him to be quiet about it while she spoke.

"Hm, impressive. But no, I am not finishing the whelp. I am thinking of a suitable punishment. This excuse is a pupil of mine. He shall be punished for allowing something like this to happen."

Her voice would be deep, a sound rune etched into the inside of her helmet augmenting her voice. Though, that would be the only magic about it. Indeed, if he were to look for it, the most magic he would find would would be her hellstorm aura. Though, oddly enough for her appearance, he would notice a distinct lack of Depravity around her. Or, at least it would be small enough to be barely noticeable.
(Escher Arch)
Arilma's presence was eerily still; if only for the near purplish, strangled color of his complexion- an effect of his high-completely Yokai blood- he might've seemed a corpse. But then, he sets leadened steps forward...

... and raises a single pitch-black orbule of chaotic Occultism, a perfect sphere of light-siphoning darkness polarized against Exorcism. "That would be a simple manner for any proper Occultist: you are- a Yomi sorcerer...? No, that's not the right cloak-" He began- before visibly crushing the umbrasphere in his clutches, to odd ends-

-it bled and dripped downwards, like a ripe tomato squeezed by an iron hand, to loose a steady trickle of pitch-darkness unto the floor... and where the pitch-darkness fell, it soon exaggerated its prior mass and bled outward into a large pond beneath the heels of all three souls present.

The sharp glint of Arilma's vile-violet, nearly luminous hues affixes to Kyrian; he raises a single index-finger of his left hand. "Shut your mouth, pupil. You have defied your master- and my business is with them." He utters; adding threat to his words, sharp black spears of solidified dark-mana rip upwards through the ground, forming a crude cage around the Ookami boy...!

The hooded fellmage then turns, to the well-disguised Cyano. There would be little need for her to hold them by the ear, whilst Arilma yet had their person surrounded by shadow-spears... or so he presumed that was why they tugged the brown-haired silver-blessed near. "I can presume he has dishonored you greatly if he's already been stripped of a leg- what is your name, sorcerer?" He inquires- narrowing his eyes on them...

He could see their Hellstorm aura- a blatant presence of hate-plasma and brilliant red energy, crackling with destructive ether.

... but not so much as a whisper of Depravity came off their person...?
Something unusual, for the Nostvalian ilk- and particularly for mages of the Malpercian's own shady flock.
(Arilma)
Being pulled by the ear is one thing, but being called out and insulting him was another. He didn't care as to how sinister this being was. He was going to let him have it.

That was. . until a edged cage would soon form from the ground beneathe him. Trapping him in place. Making him look more like a dog in a cage. What's next? A leash?

Kyrian would then look towards his "Master" and Arilma with bitter shock and horror. His eye sight was more focused on Escher. As though she would harm him greatly if he dared to pull off another outburst or treat like the one he just had.

It wouldn't take long before he started to shake. He would force himself to recall all the horrid memories and scenarios that Cyano had gave him in an illusion.

Images that he wished to never see again. But here he was reliving them at the moment.

It wouldn't take long for him to start saying. Over and over again. "I'm sorry! Never again! Sorry! I'll do what ever you say! Just not the- collar. . ."

His words were fumbling over the other as it sounded like he was speaking in fragments or if he had a tourette syndrome.

But it wouldn't take long for his senses to come back to his mind as he remembered what would happen if he freaked out once more. He felt Escher turning her eyes on him. Making him go silent as if he didn't even know how to speak.

It seemed as if he was more afraid of what Escher was going to do than what Arilma could do
(Kyrian Hayes)
Escher would observe his, well, for the most part unknown magic. It was interesting to say the least. Powerful, certainly. Something she would need to look in to. Though, she wouldn't ask that. Lest it anger him, and break down what she had already. No, she would have to wait on that.

Looking around, she most certainly didn't want to get on his bad side. He already had them surrounded, and dark spears were coming out of the ground. In fact, he had Kyrian in some kind of cage already. Clearly, he was quite powerful. For a moment, she wondered if perhaps he had simply been holding back in their fight during the battle. No, she wouldn't think on it for the moment.

Rather, she would focus on talking them out of this. Something she was quite good at after all. He seemed to be quite upset with Kyrian as well. Despite having never 'met' her. So far it seemed she had been right about their opinions towards how relations between pupil and master. That was good.

"Escher Arch. Truly, he has. A dishonor is an understatement. Were it not for the fact that it would cost me even more, I would feed his other leg to him. But, no. I think rather I will make the whelp forge himself a prosthetic. If he loses an arm in the process, I'll have him make another. At the very least he's useful this way."

Escher would turn to him, and, it would seem as if she were grinning under her hood. Not that anyone could truly see, but it would seem as such. As if she were planning truly awful things for the child.

"Regardless. I will handle the worm. Even now, he cowers in fear of me."
(Escher Arch)
Arilma looses a slow, unsettling chortle from his lips at the words of Escher; his hands rise, tugg-away his hood, to show the scarred and leery but youthful visage of Arilma- a face belonging to the man who had taken away Cyano's since-deceased friends to a long and slow decline in Nostvale's odious dungeons.

His eyes were glazed; in the wild-haired Malpercian's hues was a clear look of madness- that of an Occultist who had gone a path opposite of the Hirano forebears and modern sane Occultists, whom succumbed to Depravity if only for a pinch more power through the usage of corrupted mana... and indeed, what a font of it he possessed!
Nature all but screamed in decline about him.

He issues a tiny nod toward Escher; they were worth anything but a bow. But, he was intrigued- recognizing the name of his faction's applicant. "I wasn't far off; you sent petitions to Yomi, no...? I am Arilma, its Vicar." He issued- proudly, warily.

He would've had no suspicions, normally. He had an endearment for his fellow Occultists... but this one-? She exuded not a hint of corruption. The boy's fear didn't preturb him much; it affirmed to him she could be cruel, but, he didn't put it past the two of them for this to be an act.

Severing a disobedient boy's leg should've exuded a fine little whisper of Depravity... and about 'Escher', there was distinctly none.
Yomi's was a wicked ilk of dark-mages; she stuck out.

A hand gestures at her person- as if the revealed fellmage expected her to do something...?
(Arilma)
] Hm, well, he looked... Just about what she expected him to look like really. Purple hair, pale skin. He looked delightfully dark. It was no wonder it was so easy to fit in out here. This was essentially normal. And, Escher wasn't about to look that in the mouth.

Rather, she would listen to his name. So, this was the one she had sent the petition to. YOMI. That, made things a whole lot easier on her. Instead of having to track him down, she would simply handle all that now. 'twould be easier after all.

"Ah, yes. It is a wonder I didn't know this sooner, from that display of power. Perhaps it best we discuss this while we can then?"

Escher would glare in Kyrian's direction. His cowering seemed... off. That was something she would need to fix. Though, it would be round about. The way she would do it.

"Hmm, the worm. I think he enjoys the pain. This gives me an idea..."

Escher would point out to the field. Specifically, out towards the rock standing in the distance. It would be confusing for a moment, but as she spoke it would become clear to Arilma.

"Hm, well, seeing your power. And, seeing this one pathetically feed off enjoyment from you. Why don't you enlighten me, and show the worm the true meaning of fear. Lay into him. But, I do ask you don't break him. The leg will already cost me time and money."
(Escher Arch)
Arilma observed the boy's cowering; he had watched custodians grovel in their death throes, witnessed the shrill cries of men pushed past the killing precipice of bloody demise. This boy's fear... it was nothing.

Rather- he saw little more than an abused teenager... and arched a brow, to the other's request: it was only mild suspicion that moved him so, but, he wasn't about to show her his hand so soon. "I have removed my hood; you owe me the same courtesy." He issued- before shifting his eyes forward on Kyrian...

He was tempted to say 'do it yourself' out of sheer doubt for the other's powers, but, he wasn't going to be excessively brusque just yet- not until he saw more of this stranger. "Then, I will show you how I perform my torments." He spoke...

... all the while with his eyes fixated on the misfortunate boy, with a cold grace.
Their life hung on a jagged edge by mere threads-!
(Arilma)
" Show this worm the true meaning of fear. "

That one statement would send jolts of fear running through Kyrian's body. His spine turned cold, sending shivers throughout his body. Causing him to panic more, but that wasn't the worse of it.

Feeling the the sharp gaze of Arilma lay upon him. Was this it? Was this what it meant to die?. . . .

"Then, I will show you how I perform my torments."

The words would begin to replay in his head as his vision seemed to be twisting inside out. As if space and time were shattering by some misfortunate breaking the continumum.

Kyrian's heart was racing as he began to sweat heavily. Backing up into the corner of the cage, he would start freaking out. His eyes blazing back and forth. Left and right as he gripped at the bars and tried to pry them open.

"No- stop- Don't- Pl- St- Co- No- Do- Co- He- P- S- H- P-" Kyrian would start to mumble over his words at a low pitch of voice. But as he say the man start to near closer. He started to scream at a Soprano. His lungs threatened to burst as his eyes widened with each step he saw Arilma take towards him. He continued to freak out and spaz out as if he was about to have a spazim attack. Which would occur if he had kept this up.

Before he knew it. His eyes were almost bulging out of its sockets with each step. He even began to claw at the cage. Prying at it with his bare as hard as he can. His veins arms started to strain immensily as he kept at the bars. Pulling with all his might. But his arms became incapacitated as he kept at it. Before long the palms of his hands would begin to bleed greatly as he kept at it with no success. It wouldn't take long for him to take a sideways glance towards the approaching fellow, seeing that he was surely advancing towards him and it wouldn't take long for him to be before him.

His voice would rise up another note. Making it virtually impossible for him to maintain it for more than a few seconds. His voice box would burst. Causing him to lose his voice for a longed duration. But as of the moment. His voice was barely above the slightest whisper. But he kept at it. Screaming with his raspy voice. Which still wasn't able to be made out as he kept yelling out multiple words at once.

He began to bang his head against the side of the cage as he wanted to desperately get out of this cage.

Harder. Harder. HARDER!

Before long blood would drop to the ground as he continued at his act. But he kept at it. His eyes were now basically ready to pop out of his sockets as he now begged for forgiveness. He kept on repeating that he would never do such an act again. Never speak out of terms or unless given promission to speak. He was basically losing his mind. It then wouldn't take long for him to see true fear as his eyes caught wind of it. That face. That look. It was all the more meancing.

With one more shrill scream that his raspy voice could muster, he would lose Consciousness. Foam would start to come from his mouth as his body went limb against the cage wall. His head tilted downwards as he leaned against the wall in a sitting position
(Kyrian Hayes)
Escher would immediately begin laughing as the Ookami began to lose conciousness. Enjoyment would seem to be clear. In fact, it would almost seem that Escher had planned this from the very start. Perhaps this was how she managed to avoid Depravity? As, she hadn't done anything at all. They two, had done all of it themselves.

"Well, that was worth the discomfort. As for my helm, I am afraid I can't. When I first started learning Hellstorm magic, there was an accident. It is fused at the neck. I do hope you'll forgive that."

Escher would turn to the Ookami, and release a slight burst of Hellstorm lightning. Though, rather then harm him, it would dance across his head, and cauterize the wound he had inflicted upon himself. An interesting way to use hellstorm, certainly.

"Can't have him bleeding out on me. He'll be fine soon. When he awakes, I'll have him start on his prosthetic. That, I was deadly serious about."

Turning back to Arilma. Escher would crack her knuckles. It seemed she was ready to talk business. And, after that display, perhaps he would be more then willing to talk about this YOMI.
(Escher Arch)
At the words of this 'Escher'... Arilma's hand rises; completely disinterested in the boy, and whether he bled out, tore into his own tongue in suicide or transformed into a hideous direwolf, Arilma instead focused entirely on the helmet-wearing Occultist...

A sorceress with no Depravity- claiming to have lost control...?
It was just too conspicuous; a *snap* of Arilma's fingers, and a pulse of lilac-light flares outward, rich in mana...!

The colors of the world fade to monochrome- then, Arilma sets forward, in the incredibly slowed flow of time in which only he resumes at a normal pace. Chortling- he makes his way to the disguised Cyano, before shifting his hands forward and plucking-off their helmet; their hood is knocked back in the process, but, with more precious layers of protection gone... they had worse to fear for.

The fellmage studies their bared countenance... not half as grotesque or manly as they expected- unsure if it'd even been a woman they were speaking to, prior!- before the fiendish warlock rubs at his chin and makes a small chuckle. He kicks the helm aside in the pubble of slowed time, before producing a waterskin from his hip-

-and pouring out its crisp, cool contents over Cyano's visage, before smearing at their makeup-and-pencil drawn visage in heinous transgressions of curiosity. Before long, it's too late for the illusionaire: in her own timeline, her revelation would've hardly taken a second...!

The flow of time returns to normal; Arilma looks to the unconscious Kyrian, and to the now-revealed Cyano, before making a cut grin, a sarcastic half-nod of his head and a tilt of his amethyst-scarred visage to one side.

"Come on. Really?"
(Arilma)
Cyano would look around for a moment, before she realized that her disguise was gone. Instantly, she would appear to be quite angry. Whirling around to face the Occultist, she would immediately launch into a tirade. One that would, most likely make sense to the Occultist.

"You... You Imbecile! Your going to get me killed! Do you have any idea who could be around, spies, like Aita!"

Cyano would quickly duck off towards the side and grab her helm, before slipping it back on. Though, part of her once again blue hair would still be showing. But, not enough to be seen from the front.

"You all here, safe in your walled off cities, and your little, powerful magics, you may not have to worry! But, when someone who is already an Occultist even shows a little bit of interest in leaving them, you know what they do? They shove a hunk of metal in your spine. If that doesn't work, they kill you."

Cyano would immediately begin digging through her bag, she still had the certificate. It meant something else entirely, but, for all intents and purposes, and what Arilma knew, it would be proof that she was trying to leave the west. Specifically, a small letter written by Veradun, from when she had asked his assistance.

"This right here, they killed him before he could bring me over. Leaving me stuck up there, forced to be a good little citizen, so I didn't die. And now, here you are just throwing it out for the world to see!"

Cyano would turn away from him. Confident that that would work as a story. Kyrian would no longer be bleeding out, thanks to her Hellstorm magic. And, more then likely would survive, supposing nothing else happened.
(Escher Arch)
 Arilma scrunched his brow in a furrow before letting out a low, exasperated sigh towards the woman. He even rose two fingers to pinch at the bridge of his nose- so annoyed with what the sorceress hadn't realized. "Woman- you fought me in war: I defeated you and your friend hadily-" He began simply.

At his bid, the natural Yokai of the plains stirred... hulking feathered-fiends landed crudely into the torn grasses, aquatic serpents stirred in the nearby ground and the dirt quaked with the approaching trots of myriad Yokai, some of centaur-like forms no doubt suited to chasing down human prey, whilst others were simply... monstrous aberrations.

The very same manner of horrors Cyano should've likely recalled from her battle with Arilma and his thralls, had she memory of the Black Gate's defense. "-which might be why you're lying to me; if you really had intents to join us... you wouldn't have fought us." He spoke- not paying that slip of paper the slightest regard...
If anything, it was an insult to the late necromancer-king.

A hand reaches out swiftly- accelerated by a ripple in time- to try and seize Cyano by the chest of her garments. "I'm a Malpercian, you know. They can put metal in your spine and try to fence you in... but me, I can steal away every memory, emoton and granule of knowledge you've ever tasted, in an instant. I don't have to let you live to get the truth." Utters the fiend-mage...

His expression is stiff and terse: that of someone who's patience has run sorely thin. "But, you are an Occultist- maybe a misguided one, maybe even a stupid one. You're still a practitioner; you can bloom in Depravity yet still!" He utters- at which, if he'd taken hold of her, his grip would loosen... albeit just slightly.

The fell-sorcerer's head makes a lilting sway forward- with his vile-violet eyes making a glowering leer Cyano's way; his hues... they glint dimly, with an insipid red light: just as the eyes of Yokai did! More unnatural still, the dreadful echo of Yokai telepathy speaks into her mind, silent projections of meanings and mute sounds:

'So I'll give you one chance: offer me something -worth- the risk of sparing you.'
(Arilma)
Cyano had already known about who he was. She had realized that at the start of all this. Cyano could have thought of something else to say, but really, it was far more fun this way. So, she would give it up for now. Do things in the same fashion as she had the Kaors.

"You act as if I don't know that. I don't forget. So, I remember exactly who you are. Honestly, the fact it took you this long to see through it all lessens my respect for you by, well lets say a large amount."

Cyano would swat his hands off of her. Anger was no longer on her face. In fact, it would seem that all she felt was indifference. At the very least, showing Arilma all of it had been an act. the outburst included. Even in the face of the Yokai that now surrounded them.

"You could do that, I am sure it would be, just, so very easy for you. A little, pop in, grab all the memories, head out, slash the throat and done. Don't correct me if I am wrong on that, I have figured for the situation where the actual process is what kills me. As,..."

Cyano would pause for a moment, giving herself a moment to catch her breath, and to flick the nose of one of the nearby Centaur like Yokai. She was confident that one as powerful as him had enough control that they wouldn't attack until he commanded. No doubt that would be tested, but even if that one Yokai did attack, it would be simple enough to dispatch.

"I am neither stupid, nor misguided. The simple fact of the matter is, I managed to fool you for a good long while. I am sure that's no easy matter. I suppose it was the fact that, I truly haven't done anything all that bad that tipped me off. Wouldn't be surprised, but, when your dealing with people like Daphne or Serien, you prefer to let your underlings handle the things like that. Best to leave yourself untainted."

Shedding the cloak, she would reveal her normal blue coat. Quite the relief as well, as the cloak had been horribly uncomfortable and restricting over it. She would immediately begin pacing, her hand on her chind as she thought and spoke.

"Now now, what could I offer you. Well, let's name things in order, and you can count with me. What do you say to that? Good, good. Well, I have cold iron and crowns, the go to way to buy yourself out of just about anything. I have my notebook here. Very interesting stuff in here mind you. Considering I have had it for several years. I am an experienced rune writer. If you offered me the chance to work on something that I have been experimenting with for a very long while, I would gladly offer you those skills. As, Ink runes, Isa runes. Those Isa runes, freeze things by the way, useful, really, if it is a Rune, I could probably write it."

Again, a pause, for the biggest thing of all she could offer.

"And, finally, I could very well offer you the Paladin Seriens head. Considering he is the current ruler of Danarium, that would most certainly make conquest easier, now wouldn't it? A quick explanation of how I could do that, since, both you and me know not offering one typically ends in you grabbing me by the neck, a threatening remark is made, oh noooo, I am so scared no forgive me you scary grape jelly haired malpercian you"

The sarcasm would be dripping in Cyano's voice. Again, showing just how little he actually scared her.

"And then I say something and either you believe me, or you snap my neck and this little bit of fun is over. Basically, I saved his life once, taught him about my magic, as he took an interest in how lightning magic could teleport one to their opponents, next thing you know, he's letting me hand him off this piece of skin that I carved off my own leg! With this rune written on it, with a little version of me written in it, that would probably cause a whole lot of depravity if it was ever used. But hey, he took the idea at face value. Sure, it ended up a failure. But he let me do it, even took one as a precaution. I have one of the failures here, if you wouldn't care to see it."

Cyano would pull out what she was talking about. A now leathery piece of human skin would be brought out, the basics of an Artificial life Ink rune written on it. It would be too small to work, though, if he had any idea about runes he would see that on a larger scale, it would probably work.

"So, whats it going to be Mr. Vicar. I don't have all day, and, neither do these Yokai it seems? I'm so very excited to see where this all leads."
(Escher Arch)
Throughout the woman's lecture... Arilma's eyes slowly narrow- his patience thins, and the Yokai simply amass. Rows after rows of fiends, many more than the dozens Arilma had commanded prior; when Cyano's hand swats against his- she'd note its texture.

That it was a thing of vile dread-amethyst. A purely crystalline, spire-bristling arm of terrible origin: in it, with a fog-like but pitch-dark shape, was a pure blackness like that of the celestial void of the night sky... and, so too were countless twinkles and glimmers. A single 'star' for each soul the arm had absorbed-

-of which there were hundreds. Hundreds, pilfered and absorbed in war. The male's lips twist with bemusement as Cyano finally makes her offering, raising the palm of his left hand for her silence not even halfway into her offer, before he shakes his head side-to-side. "For one, we just met: you lack Depravity- for that reason I never wholly bought your claims." He let on, perhaps to the rather haughty deceiver's dissatisfaction.

He shifts forward: the space between Cyano and the fiend-mage is soon annihilated. His eyes roam her form callously; a dull hiss of breath pushes through his gritted teeth, as he struggles to devise use for her.

"Unfortunately, most of your offers are worthless; anything you would be going north of the Black Gate for, 'paladins' included, I'd never see once the back of your head vanished into the horizon..."

A finger then shifts forward- impressing its blunt tip against Cyano's stomach, though this time bristling flares of Occultism lingered about it, evidencing this time he wouldn't be swatted-away...

A grin shows on his lilac-grey lips, before they part for his speech: "The only thing on you of worth, Danarite, is your flesh." He utters, with a plaintive lilt in his voice and a slight shrug.

His fingertip lowers... sitting just below the aged woman's navel. "As you are a decent mage and have a dark affinity all I can use you for is, simply, your flesh..." He let on- before both his hands shift to rest at his hips.

A hand swipes in the air- with a disgusted, but brief twist of his features, the soured expression of which is short-lived! "And- I don't mean that... rune-skin or what have you, I possess six-hundred years worth of and lifetimes of memory more of experience in Runecrafts. It's not valuable to me." He spoke simply-

-and just thereafter, his grin breaks into something of mischief and sadistic glee. "I intend to trade my flesh before long- to become a thing of the darkness myself, woman. The title of 'vicar' merely means one who represents, Cyano... and I am, just so, a mere emissary of the magic we both wield- of the darkness. I have no delusions of my own grandeur..." He issues- lips trembling, and eyes glazing over with a thin haze of madness...

"All I am is made by the darkness... empowered by darkness, and undone through dark, too..."

He grins her way- quickly shifting a pair of fingers to seize at and turn her chin, as he inspects the near-middling aged woman again...! A tiny hiss escapes his lips, before his extended left hand yanks backward, thereafter- impressing no further touches. His lips form a scowl.

"But I yet have no blood heirs... and past such an attempt at defiling my own mortality, I could make none, either."

His head tilts forward- scowl twinging up at its ends to look something like a very crooked, toothy smirk...!

"Let's test your wit, deceiver: what is it that I'd need of flesh from you, then...?"
(Arilma)
Deep in his subconscious, Kyrian would dwell in the same empty corridor. But this time alive and awake.

Why must you put up such a pathetic attempt to save those who mean to harm to you?

There it was, the brilliant voice that echoed throughout the empty and dark corridors

Kyrian would simply sigh and speak baack to his ancestor in the dark.

"Why do you hide? Anyway, whats going on?"

It doesn't matter. Why must I keep lending you power when you don't abide to my commands anymore she responded

"Because If I die, you won't have access to the real world. " he replied.

I don't mind being seperated from it again, It will only take time fo-

" For another to use Ancestral Wrath? Do you know how hard it takes to use such a ability? Or even to come into contact with an Ancestor? If you want to try your luck. Go ahead." he said montone.

Uggh. How dare you speak to ME IN SUCH A WAY! YOU CUT ME OF-!

"Quite down, and help me wake up again"

Suddenly his ancestor would come out of the dark embrace of the shadows and reveal herself in her long flowing silk dress.

This is the last time I give you help. . . . .After this. . . . You only listen to me.

"What ever you say. . . ." Kyrian said as he waited in place for his ancestor to walk up to him and give him a peck on his forehead.

ARRGH!

Kyrian would stand once more, the cage that once held him was nothing more but shattered. He then stared towards the two who were now converstating as depravity leaked from his presence. But the only problem was. He was legless. But that wasn't a problem as Kyrian's raw energy shot outwards and formed a energy like shroud prutruding the ground from below. Allowing him to stand up as he had one humaniod leg, as the other one was potentially make-shift. Made out of pure mana as his circuits was now once again flowing. It's been far to long since he was released from the grips of the anti-magic collar from within the cells of Nostvale. But now they were off and he was free.

His eyes began to glow as raw energy flowed from his eyes with brillance. He stared between the two as his aura radiated with energy.

"Whats going on Cyano?" Kyrian would now call out. But the only problem was. That it wasn't really his voice. But like two in sync with the other. As if the two were one.

He continued to stare at Cyano to see if any answers would come forth.

But as his energy still blurred about, so did the presence of depravity linger about his presence. It might not be as strong as Arilma. But it was surely more than what Cyano contained.

Your wicked you know that. . . But I like it. . . Your like. . those sleeping agents you've read about
(Kyrian Hayes)
Well then. This malpercian... was really, really stupid. Though, she honestly didn't know what to expect. He was, in her opinion, simply another uppity cult leader. And, another enemy that she seemed to have made. His arm would feel strange, but again, it wouldn't bother her too much. Really just another thing to add on to list of things she had seen, and she had honestly not cared one little bit about.

Cyano would let him go on with his speech, about how he never bought it. Her claims were useless, yada yada yada, these cultists how they loved to simply drone on and on! Seriously, she yearned for the good times when Judas simply screamed at her and that was it, or Red decided to mind choke her. At least they were quick and to the point.

As he went on, she would listen to his talk of the darkness. His experience, even though, in reality he looked young enough that she could literally be his mother. And, she couldn't help but chuckle when he launched into his whole "The darkness made me" Thing. It. It was so hammy!

"Uhuh"

Cyano would continue to listen, all the way up until he finished. Truly, an absolutely riveting speech. A plus all the way. Cyano would sigh, before responding. With, her own little retorts and remarks. Especially on that darkness thing. That, was quite hilarious

"Ok, first off. It's clear you want me to, at least think, that you want me to have your heir. But.... And, I shall say this in small words for you."

Cyano would take a deep breath here,

"You are, in short an imbecile. One of the highest caliber in fact. Your 'power', which, is not an insult to it, I assure you, your probably one of the most powerful mages that I have ever seen, but, that is beside the point. It is not a substitute for basic intelligence. Which you lack. In case I did not make that clear."

Cyano would go on, and, this time there would be no stopping her. Though, the fact that she was bold enough to actively insult him, would probably make him interested enough to listen the whole way through.

"Furthermore, you are, a poor excuse. For, everything really. The way you hold yourself, the way you speak. You ooze narcisissim. I would even say to the point that you truly believe all of what you just said. Emissary. You even try to deflect it, by saying you have no delusions of Grandeur, but then you launch into your whole song and dance. It's a miracle someone hasn't slit you throat out of sheer annoyance at the level of pretentiousness you give off."

Again, a pause would be taken, but it would be clear to him that she was not done.

"Finally, your sitting here, asking an almost fourty year old woman, to have your heir. What? Did you get rejected by someone younger? Looking for, an old lonely woman because you can't get anything else? Or, well, you mentioned you couldn't make any yourself. My, I wonder why, with this... Winning complexion of, pale...seemingly rotting skin, and that, oh so luscious grape jelly hair. No, nope, I see no reason anything you ever tried to do would ever possibly fail"

Cyano would again, do one spin to turn and face his direction, her pacing having displaced her.

"But, your most likely going to kill me anyway. At least that way, perhaps I get a little more time, you pitiful sick excuse for a mud stain."

(Escher Arch)
Arilma simply... couldn't take it anymore.
After a point- how could he?

A constant deluge of insults poured his way; a legless boy conjured energy magic with which he'd broken through the spear-cage of pure Occultism conjured prior; the woman refused, sullied and spurned him. And finally, after a point-

-a billowing curtain of darkness swoops out from Arilma; shades and torrid fellswathes enwreathe the fiendish Malpercian, the inheritor of Death- by which a horrific presence of purely dreadful Depravity again to that of the doomed, dying and damned rips out into existence.

Butterflies collapse dead upon the grass; birdsong and insect-chitters silence, not even a single frog-croak heard from the large pond ahead; the winds break, curdle and stagnate; a scent of staleness and death consumes the air.

And then- the daylight itself turns bleak- not simply about Arilma, but all over! The Malpercian's right arm stretches towards the heavens... and where it does so, a downburst of pitch-black spirals down from the sky, a stream of pure Depravity beckoned down from the stars...!

The plaguing deluge strongs the young fiendmage to obvious harm- causing his skin to flake, crumble and earn a small flow of blood across his person- but the infusion of corrupt mana causes his deathly presence to swell with dire, drastic and looming doom-presence...!

The Yokai stir to Arilma's call- and close in, before he conjures a single depraved umbrasphere of Occultic magic in each hand. "This'll be the second prideful wretch who dies to their hubris; witness the powers of darkness!" Shouts the boy- before charging them...!

He showed not the slightest hesitation- nor any more than a hollowed-out shade of humanity to his eyes, nothing that promised mercy: Death awaited the pair- a wrest with terrible fell-sorcery not meant for human hands.
(Arilma)
 Kyrian would glance from Cyano to Arilma and back. He finally reached the grasp onto the situation.

Turning towards Arilma he would ask " What kind of adult are you? Attacking the would be? Or soon to be barer of your heir? Why go so far to settle out your rage? Are you that hot headed? Or are you just plan insane?"

He seriously wanted to get the motive of the adult who was now charging at them with an attacking manner. Which kind've bothered him as he watched the much older fellow get made over simple words. Was he that weak mentally? He might have the power for one. But mentally? Man a kid could probably trick him.

"And why go through the waste of killing off people when they could become of use to you? Why do such a brute of a thing than do something smart of it. Build a army in secret? Have spies? Try the diplomatic route for once. But then again, your probably to much of a savage to think of such ways. . ." he would say in a calm and elegant tone.

He would give one side glance towards Cyano then back to Arilma. If she wasn't going to do anything, then so wouldn't he

(Kyrian Hayes)
Arilma: If she didn't want to die she should've kept the venom off her tongue- and you're repeating her mistake.
[21:03:08] Escher Arch: The venom, that, is somehow getting to you?
[21:04:00] Arilma: ... You expect me to drag your begrudging body back to Nostvale and into bed after your bitter lecture...? No, you surely didn't.
 Escher Arch: I expected you to be stronger mentally, rather then throwing a temper tantrum over mere words
[21:04:51] Arilma: You expect what?! You're discovered as a spy in enemy lands, and you expect something other than a guillotine?!
[21:05:42] Arilma: I was foolishly charitable because we share the same magic... but it's wasted on you- are you serious, woman?
[21:05:42] Escher Arch: A spy? My oh my, I'm not sure what your tallking about there. I came over to collect what was mine
[21:05:42] Escher Arch: For your information, the Ookami
[21:06:33] Escher Arch: If you want to give me enough credit to be a spy, go ahead
[21:06:33] Arilma: ... You've even had a chance to speak to me, and you're spurning it- you're talking of diplomacy, savagery and stupidity and somehow contradicting everything you two say in the same breath.
[21:07:24] Escher Arch: Again, not sure what you mean. I simply mentioned how I am not a spy. As for wasted,
[21:08:16] Escher Arch: I shall have you know, that I am quite good with it. The difference being, I am smart enough to not overstep my boundaries when outmatched in numbers
[21:08:16] Escher Arch: You alone, I truly hoped you would do more then this
[21:08:16] Escher Arch: All that power, your vulnerability shown with a sharp tongue
[21:09:07] Escher Arch: I still give you the option to prove me wrong
[21:09:07] Arilma: Woman- you did not stop for *breath*. It's not my vulnerability. Impudence is a fatal error in all diplomacy.
[21:09:58] Escher Arch: And yet you now have trouble breathing. I said I would do it. Prove to me they wouldn't falter because some neighborhood kid told them their arm was funny, or that they said something wrong
[21:09:58] Arilma: I will give you one chance: you can go back on every slur you just spat, agree to my terms and reside in Nostvale until this war's over, or this is indeed going to go as you expect.
[21:11:40] Escher Arch: If this is your way of proving it to me, fine, they are taken back
[21:12:32] Escher Arch: I apologize for all of it, if this is your way of showing you have some mental fortitude
[21:13:23] Arilma: By all means, continue.
[21:13:23] Arilma: I certainly know now you don't lack for the words!
[21:14:14] Escher Arch: Hm, clever remarks
 Escher Arch: Fine, I do apologize. Your power is certainly greated then mine
Arilma: We've known that since war- why, in all your wits, would you incite me to kill you?
 Escher Arch: I already told you. You said you wanted me to have your heirs. I wanted to make sure you weren't some sniveling no one that would make them weak
 Escher Arch: You are proving that to me now
[21:19:21] Arilma: ... I don't even trust it and you're a bizarre woman, but I'm not about to kill a legless dreg and a madwoman for lunacy. You accept my terms-?
[21:19:21] Escher Arch: Indeed I do
[21:20:12] Arilma: And you understand you will be watched- bound in an anti-magic collar- and kept within the walls of this city over yon until the eve of war has long passed?
[21:20:12] Arilma: <*He gestures the way of Nostvale's battle-grizzled walls, overlooked by a now rust-sullied Iron Keep.*>
[21:20:12] Escher Arch: Absolutely
[21:21:04] Arilma: Pick up your dog, and let's go.
[21:21:04] Escher Arch: Well, I have a term for you first
[21:21:04] Escher Arch: Long time ago, made Eredis upset
[21:21:04] Escher Arch: Prefer for him not to kil me
[21:21:04] Arilma: He's my father. What did you do to him?
[21:21:55] Escher Arch: I, and I use the word loosely, lied to a friend of his
[21:21:55] Arilma: So you were guilty of espionage.
[21:21:55] Escher Arch: It was more a case of me being misniformed, but they took it way out of proportion
[21:21:55] Escher Arch: No no, this was before he was king
[21:21:55] Escher Arch: Like, Judas was still alive long ago
[21:22:46] Arilma: That is little better; you will have to face King Eredis, someday, but if you do as you have agreed you may just scrape through with a terribly lucky, ill-deserved pardon.
[21:22:46] Escher Arch: I wanted to bring my illusions to life, so did this friend.
[21:22:46] Escher Arch: Alright
[21:23:37] Escher Arch: Well, lead the way.
[21:23:37] Arilma: ... Is your pet capable of moving himself?
[21:23:37] Escher Arch: ...
[21:23:37] Escher Arch: Maybe
[21:23:37] Kyrian Hayes: *Follows behind Cyano* Cyano. . . you do know if my magic is binded. . I won't be able to move
[21:24:28] Escher Arch: I'll think of soething for it
[21:30:27] Into the defiled city they go- a place of monsters, Azraelites and corrupted or long-maddened magisters of woeful powers. The city looks little like how it did under Judas; the streets are broken, heaps of broken, splintered wood and scrap lie in crudely-cobbled heaps where Nostvale's succession of hungry conquests left rampant destruction, the scope of which is all over: the walls, the foundation itself, the cobblestones of the streets...

... but repairs, of a crude sort, show: the trio- and some Yokai- pass by other fiends of the latter ilk, a rare Malpercian or two practicing the dark craft in deep-trance meditation and even groups of wayward Oscuri. The city shows signs of a new- and very different, Mortem Azrael influenced- mode of life.

To a single two story house they go: a gloomy, vine-covered thing, though its lawn is kept. Arilma brings them within and into a foyer of lab-tables cluttered with apparatuses and surgical instruments; from the ceiling there hang chains and hooks, the whole place looking like a grisly cross between a butchery, and an alchemist's lab...
In truth, his mother used it for both purposes.

Arilma reaches for a single table- producing a pair of rune-scrawled adamantite collars- standard possessions for the ill-rumored Executioner and jailor of Nostvale, an interrogator of Custodian ilk and ruthless inquisitor of Krausites to be persecuted...

He hefts a single of the collars aloft. "Present your collar aloft; once I seal it, it's not coming off for a long while." He harshly utters- still regarding the woman with a reluctant disdain.
(Arilma)
Kyrian would begin after Cyano and Arilma. Entering back into the one place that he hated the most. But it was Cyano's orders. So he would keep it under control. She was the sole reason for him still living. That and his ancestor, but its not like that was any important.

Kyrian would notice as soon as he had entered the city. That it was nothing like Danarium. Everything was out of place. The streets were broken, structures were destroyed, everything was mixed up with the other. It was just mayhem all around. There was even a some type of green aura'd people as he passed by. Which made his eye follow as he followed the two.

There was also plenty-ful of Yoki, as well as very depraved people. He didn't even have to try to sense it. It lingered on and about as if it poisoned the atmosphere with just its existance. But that didn't bother Kyrian for the time being.

It wouldn't take long for Kyrian to reach to house in which Arilma had led them too. Entering the house was nothing but breeze. But what did shock him was how Arlima kept such a clean cut of the grass, but did nothing of the vines covering the house. Maybe a type of design.

But then, it wouldn't take long for Kyrian to come crashing to the ground.

" Ack!"

Falling short to his side as he hit his head on the floor hard. Soon to be dazed. Kyrian would notice that his makeshift leg was gone, and not only that. But the mana that was circulating from within his body to only flow back inside. Was gone. Now it was just flowing within his body. This made Kyrian take time to notice that he was sweating and that his breath had even wavered.

Truly it had been some time after the day in which Kyrian had attempted such a unique technique. But he had forgotten that it had such a strain. It was probably because he was using Ancestral Wrath. That was probably why he didn't feel himself slowly being drained as he slowly pushed himself off the floor into a plank position. In a matter of moments would he curl around to grab at the nearest bar and pull himself up to a one legged stand.

"I once had tried runewriting. . . but it didn't make alot of sense to me so I dropped it. It's interesting that it could do such much though. . . " he said longingly.

Kyrian would attempt to once more use his unique technique to see if he held it long enough if he were to have a collar latched onto him. That it would stay. But as he tried. The more his breathing wavered as he attempted to form another makeshift leg. So he quickly gave up knowing that he'd need to save his strength just to move from now on
(Kyrian Hayes)
Well, this was certainly memorable. Cyano remembered the first time she came to Nostvale as a prisoner. Though, at the time things were certainly in better condition. Somehow the Belial cult, the people forcused on blood and sacrifices, managed to make it look far better then a group of Azraelites. That was, in a word, pitiful.

Cyano would be led into the house. It looked about how she expected it would be. Warm, Cozy, instruments of murder, torture, and the like out in the open. Very fun, very fun. She just hoped it wouldn't be used on them. While she was certain she could take it, it just didn't seem like something she wanted to do right now.

Taking the collar handed to her, Cyano would slip it on. Though, she wasn't sure what to do after that. Though, it was probably up to him to handle that part. So, she would lift her neck up for easy access. So compliant indeed!

"Well, turn 'em on for us"
(Escher Arch)
Arilma nodded and shifted forward; with a sharp *pang* of colliding metal, the rune-lit adamantite collar is affixed to the Occultist's neck, sealing about her with a replete disruption of mana... it stung even to touch the thing, evidenced by the way the fellmage shook his hand as if he'd touched something hot, thereafter!

The Ookami boy is soon to follow; the would-be swordsman hobbling along is held standing by a pair of drooling Yokai, only so long enough as for a second anti-magic collar to be clasped about their neck. Thrown out one moment- returned the next; it seemed Kyrian was to live out a cruel existence here.
At least he wasn't mangled further-

With a crisp sound of his bootheels rasping over the old but polished floorboards, Arilma turns, handing a single pitch-black letter to a bat-yokai whom flutters out of the house hastily. "The ghouls of Nostvale's lich-king will be watching you two; try to flee the walls, and a swift doom awaits- there's not much luxury afforded to your stations." He issues- at which point...

... the Yokai begin to tug Kyrian out of the house. "... You're free to roam the city, otherwise, lest a citizen issues a complaint- at which you'll probably fall into the dungeons." He spoke- and just after, the Ookami-bladesman would find himself hurled to the streets!

He wasn't even getting a room...

Something very different, though, awaits Cyano; the young man hooks an arm around the middling-aged woman's own, before gesturing the way of the stairs to his own quarters. "He's outside, you're with me- shall we?" Brusquely issues the fellmage...
(Arilma)
Staring at the collar which was soonfound itself attached to Cyano's neck would cause him to wince. He remembered how tight and choked he felt by wearing those type of collars.

But soon it would be his turn. Kyrian would only think to be his turn. In which he struggled to move forward to have it placed upon him. But the Yokais had seemed to notice it as they grasped him by the arms and brought him forwards. Before he knew it. The collar was once around his neck. Freezing him in place as he felt the shock of it zapping at his skin.

"Err. . . ."

Kyrian had tried not to yell out as it wouldn't take long for his aura to vanish away. His eyes returning to its normal hue. Then he was pulled out of the house without a warning.

"Hey! Wai- "

Boom

The door was closed on him as he was tossed outside to tumble in the outside yard. Kyrian looked up towards the house and wondered what was going to happen. With this collar on him, he was sure to be sent back to the dungeon. . . or worse.

Death. . . .

They would probably think that he escaped the dungeon or did worse to earn such a thing. It wouldn't take long for Kyrian to stand up and head over to the side of the building as the yokai had disbursted.

Leaning against the building, he would sit down against it and close his eyes. He would be there at the slightlest sound of a yell or scream to come to Cyano's aid if she needed him.

' The fool, why didn't she just wait in Danarium . . . ' This could've just been avoided he thought as he sat outside of the house. But deep inside, it was truly glad to know that someone had came for him
(Kyrian Hayes)