[21:46] Miura was insanely lucky to have survived the battle. However, it came at a cost. Betelgeuze's life. A reminder of the Oracle's wisdom was left behind in the figure of an entity. That person, was Zefa.

A prosthetic hand tapped her shoulder, and if she was to look behind, she would likely see the depressed gaze of the scarred swordsman.

"You. You're Zefa… aren't you? The one Betelgeuze kept on ranting ona bout whenever I met him outside."
(Miura)
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[21:48] His attention was piqued when Miura arrived, speaking of Betelgeuze. "Isn't he that one prisoner? The one with the blonde hair and looked like he'd knock on your door until you convert to his religion?"

The vagabond sat up, now planting his feet onto the ground. "Interesting guy. He gave me free sake."
(Jabril)
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[21:55] Greyish eyes were locked upon the fire dancing in burning flames before her. That glare gifted to the fire seemed more- fatigued then the usual. A chapter of her existential book ended this day, her eyes making to last acquaintance with the only one amidst this cold world which ever understood her words. Digging between those many lines she displays.

However... That glare was soon gifted to the cloaked man. Glimmering under the stardust which falls from the crown of flower to cover her thin frame as if a crystal raindrops were falling to wrap her form.

Despite all those glimmers and that sensation of arcane light that could not do better, but poke the cloaked man. Her glare displayed a visage of sorrow. Even if she attempts to accept fate, even if she accepts that it is a mere grain amongst the others amidst this existential hourglass.

She cannot help, but be hurt... Feeling a sort of pain through each poundings of her heart and even. At the mention of his name, her eyes grown dim by the suddent glimmer passing by as moving stars to symbolize that slight existence each is forced to pass through.

"... Yes... I am Zefa… Hm..."

Her attention once again shifted back upon the fire burning before her, another tear falling upon her cheek before she could speak again.

"... Who are you?..."
(Zefa)
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[21:55] * You have been awarded 1 Roleplay Points! *
[22:07] It was only natural that Zefa had continuously suffered from the Oracle's death. Miura did not understand their relationship, although, he could piece together that they played an important role in Betelgeuze's founding and life. And... It was too soon to give up.

The prosthetic dropped, lifelessly. It symbolized the nature Miura possessed, a persona devoid of life. Such was the fate of a Struggler who was subject to the death of those he held credible.

The single hazel pupil hid inside his hood, only for Zefa to see. It carried pain, darkness, suffering, hatred. It had been consumed by an inferno up until this point, but no longer. It sequenced itself to transgress into that of a Volcano erupting.

He planned carefully. He always did, just as Betelgeuze had taught him to do.

The tear dropped, and whilst it may have aggravated Miura somewhat, he let it pass. He had done the same all those years ago when he lost everyone.

"Miura. Listen carefully, Zefa. Just because Betelgeuze has died, does not mean he has died."

That didn't make sense. How could one die, and not die?

"-- His will falls upon those he held dear. That is both you, and me. So I tell you, it is far from over. I was too weak to save him, and I sincerely apologise from my weakness. However, if you don't come to terms with his passing, it will scar you for the rest of your life. Just as it has done to me for years." Miura said, before turning back to the flames.

"Vengeance has only begun. I will serve it in the blood of my foe, and my Sword will taste the bittersweet crimson it deserves. But, I can't do it on my own, Zefa. I need your assistance. I know where you stand in Illsburg. You are needed."
(Miura)
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[22:14] "The priest died?" He'd call out with a hint of sorrow. He didn't know the man very well, and the two had only conversed once. The only reason Jabril remembered Betelgeuze was because of how odd he was when the two had met.

There was a heavy air lingering around the square. For a moment, it felt as if it were better not to speak, but he relented. "Sorry for the loss," whispered Jabril as he pulls out a battle of sake.

He flicks his thumb, tearing off the cork, and in a single motion he began to pour some of it out onto the pavement. It was the very saem sake bottle that the now deceased priest had given him. "I didn't know him long, but he seemed like a good man."
(Jabril)
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[22:35] The words had yet to blossom from the mysterious swordsman that she could already feel that scorching flame within burn. Even how cold that world can be, even if we are yet again stuck in that cycle of season, the winter surrounding the still growing tree, to allow those willowing leave which had grown upon those wicked branches of hers. The leaf being Betelgeuze which had been aiding her during that moment of warmth in her life until he falls and rot like every single souls which she considered as being a part of herself amidst that wide garden of her memories.

Each memories of the falling leaves blossomed into a beautiful and unique flower which survive from each cycles. Even if the flow of life is known to be cruel, an obligated existential voyage which demands resignation as it is known that each paths as an ending.

However... Her eyes once again shifted upon the single hazel eye manifesting itself beyond that shadow which hid his visage. The lupin had yet to speak the single word, it was not the right time... Not now. A first step followed by a trail of stardust allowed her to approach.

That one moment when she had found herself in less then a meter away from him. A lithe hand flourished to allow of a mellowed caress the hood to be taken off. Allowing his visage to be exposed. Exploring with that visage of sorrow the face of the man before her, one of Betelgeuze's chosen. Merely visioning that one execution done by one of an iris of a darknened sun. A blindness to a light that merely exist to guide as a lighthouse to the lost boats amidst a tempest.

A light smile soon blooming upon her face to display that golden petal from that flower amidst the garden of her memories hidden behind that thick shell of introversion. That one golden flower, the oracle being the gardener, the rains to this one.

She could not help, but smile to his words. His apologize.

"It is not your fault... Miura... There is nothing that can ever change the turning of fate..."

Her lithe hand which soon rested upon the cheek of the taller injured man soon glew. The golden flower blossomed upon her palm to wrap the man's visage, in order to bring him a warmth. A feeling of understanding, that she is with him and that... He should never feel shamed toward himself for such things.

"... There is nothing that can ever bring the grains under an hourglass from falling... Ever... Yet..."

As Betelgeuze once told requested... Share the light. Beseech that golden flower within another.

Her head tilted, the smile upon her face widening.

"... If Betelgeuze had belief for you..."

Her essence soon gifted to the man, nourishing his flame... Nourishing his will, allowing him to feel stronger. Such a day of rain to a blossoming flower. Zefa could already feel weaker from this action, yet she believes it as a worthy sacrifice.

"... Allows a new chapter under his existential book... His tale to be written..."

Jabril's words could not be unnoticed, even a glance would have been gifted to him, with a light smile being locked upon her face. A smile to symbolize acceptance to the turning of fate, understanding.

"Hmm... He truly was... It is not your fault... Each paths as an ending and it is to learn from those paths taken that is important to remember..."
(Zefa)
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[22:51] A glimpse of hope? Even after the bloodshed, a ray of hope found it's way into their interaction. It was the feeling of empathy, personified into the silhouette that was Zefa. This was a feeling Miura had not felt in days, months, years. He hadn't thought it was possible, until the light broke its way into his darkness.

In a response, Miura's eye widened, and his mouth fell agape. A shimmer of light found its way into his rigid personality, and penetrated his defenses. It was too much to handle.

Yet, he was too far gone. Too far trapped into the burning inferno that resided inside his core. He snapped out of his trance, the prosthetic palm gripping onto Zefa's nimble arms. The same eye that saw hope, had not seen a goal.

It did not squeeze, but it did stay there.

"You're right, Zefa. There is nothing that can ever bring the grains under an hourglass from falling, there is nothing that can change the turning of fate..." Miura said, fluently. Accompanied by this was sufficient build up, gesturing him to grin as a remark.

"-- Until I struggled my way to this point onwards. I've come back from the brink of death. I've seen what's on he other side, and I damn well know this ain't over. Just like you said, it allows a new chapter under his existential book, the commemoration of Betelgeuze, as Disciples. This was his final goal, his outcome. He wanted to elect us as Disciples, but now that he is gone? I refuse to not fulfil his wish. But, will you?"
(Miura)
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[23:08] She is known as the free bird which flies toward the flow of life. She flies straight up toward the far ending of that existential forced voyage. She flies to learn from each paths taken or even forged by those who can break those binding chains. She gifts those which attempts or do already understands the flow of life to the pictures given to her perception from high.

Will she create a path? Who knows at this point, so much happen during that spark of glow of a moving star merely passing by. It indeed does not take long before she felt that burning flame within scorch, that mythril hand of the muscular man before her allowed his digits to lie of a mellowed touch despite how rough of nature this man can be. She could sense it.

It is obvious that Miura could feel her empath, her attempt to make him feel better. That blooming sorrow, a shattered heart. She brought the heart to beat in a will to keep up without falling, that soul to spread it's inner wings behindthose scorching flames.

Her browns lifted at his words, her eyes soon shifting once again upon hisvhazel eyes before she made a step back. The slowness of her movement making the tiredness being relevant.

"... You are a still growing tree, yet... You have lost so many leaves to those passing winters... I can feel it... I am the same... Betelgeuze had changed my life for the better, I have come to understand and accept the turning of fate... I will never allow that golden flower within that wide garden of my memories to die...", she affirmed after a nod of her head. "... I will aid you in your quest... To keep that book he had begun... He is gone, yet his tale is unfinished..."
(Zefa)
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[23:21] The grasp loosened, content with her decision. The mithril would finally drop, and for sure, Betelgeuze could rest easy with the actions taken by both Miura and Zefa. For the first time, in a while, the smirk on his countenance could feel the warmth of happiness.

But, there was still much to do, too much to collect, too many pieces to put together. However, there was another step Miura could take, and whilst it may have been too much of a big step, it would slowly make its way to fruition.

"...Thank you. I haven't said those two words in years. Since I was a child. I hope we can work together well, for the sake of the crown he left you, you are now an Oracle, just as Betelgeuze was."

"-- In any case. . . I have a few ideas going. But it's better you rest for now. You've been through too much Zefa, I'll talk to you in a bit. You're free to rest."
(Miura)
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[23:26] Zefa says, "Mhm.... Let us speak about this later then and... It is no problem... It is where to flow had guided me and i will forever keep following it. I may now rest..."
[23:26] Miura says, "Very well."