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[Kaie]

90th of Spring, 515 AV
Nightfall


You said you weren't going to do it, you stupid savage, the Myrian berated herself as she settled into the shadows of an unfamiliar tavern. For the entirety of Spring in Zeltiva, the tawny-skinned woman had mulled over the horrible turn of events, which resulted in the Scars' retreat from Sunberth. To say they'd been bloodied and battered would've been an understatement of legendary proportions. Their leadership had collapsed with the attack on The Quay. Orvin, the loyal wolf that belonged to Fallon, had been slain in their own compound. The Myrian herself had been badly wounded, one of her Sisters sicked upon her, almost drowned in the icy bay, and chased onto a departing vessel with Sunberth's infamous mob at their heels. Her days as a dog running with her tail between her legs had long since passed. Now? Now she was furious. The steady beat of a never-ending lust for vengeance could no longer be ignored. She would kill the people who set out to bury her adopted family, even if it led her to her own grave.

But first she'd need a strong drink.

A bar maid approached the savage where she was seated at a table in the corner of the musty tavern. The candles scattered around the business were little more than pitiful stumps, ghosts of their former taller glories. Melted wax dribbled down from the candle stick holders and hardened upon the beaten wooden floor.
"Can I getcha somefin?" the boorish wench asked the hooded woman with a tone that clearly conveyed her lack of interest in her job. "A pitcher of ale. Please," came the response from the Myrian bathed in darkness. The wench's face contorted with something just short of out right contempt. Exotic features could be masked. Her profoundly Myrian accent, on the other hand, could not. Bony chin gave a nod, and just like that the tavern wench disappeared. The foreigner was left to brood in much needed silence. Yet it did not last long.

"Ya bastard! Ya holdin' out on me! I know it!" a voice boomed with the throwing open of the hole-in-the-wall tavern's door. The hinges screeched for mercy before two figures shuffled inside and the door slammed shut behind them. "Hah! Oh, I'll tell ya, mate. The bitch was good," the first voice's companion tittered with a wicked flash of crooked teeth. The first man offered a pleased laugh and the two found themselves only a few tables away from the savage hidden in plain sight. Great. The first man clapped the second on the back.

"Come on now, Brennan. What'd you do next? Out with it!"
"Alright, alright!" Brennan assured the first man with a chuckle before rubbing his grubby hands together in nefarious fashion. "So by now I'd had a bit to drink. I waited for Big Tits to go, right? Then I followed her. It was too easy, her bein' all alone and all. Sneaked up on her real smooth-like...and got her into the nearest alleyway."
"Did she fight ya?"
"Gods, did she fight me? Here, take a look." Brennan twisted his head so that his face was exposed to the dim candlelight. Red, claw-like gouges rested in his flesh across his cheek. "Had her screamin', cryin', ya know how they get. Bent her over some merchant's barrels in the street, tore her dress up, and..."
"You boys lookin' for somefin'?"

Brennan's story trailed off, leaving his companion in utter suspense and literally at the end of his stool. It was as if he truly didn't know how the story ended. Kaie certainly did. Several seasons in the wretched city had exposed most of its horrors. Brennan's conquest was a nightly occurrence. Had the tavern wench not interrupted, the Myrian wouldn't have remained rooted in her seat much longer. Disgust filled her, and with each tick that passing that he told his tale, her fingers itched that much closer for her sword. It had been a mistake to leave the ship. Leaving had never been her plan. She didn't want to be seen. Not until the deed was done, which was still a long way off considering she didn't even know who she was hunting yet.

"Aye. I'm always lookin' for a li'l somethin'," Brennan flirted with a wink. With the tavern wench's back to the Myrian, Kaie couldn't tell whether the woman swooned or rolled her eyed. In either case, she was unphased by the common advance. "Ales for me and my buddy Tim, Wendy." Then Wendy the tavern maid was gone again. Tim nudged Brennan's shoulder with an eager fist. "What else ya got? I've been gone a season! What other shyke ya been into?" Brennan considered that a tick, a hand scrubbing at his scraggly scruff. Another flash of crooked teeth and his hand dipped down to his hip. Wendy returned to place some ales before the two men, noticeably snubbing the foreigner in the corner. "Oh, I've got a story for ya. Proof, too." Tim's eyes practically sparkled at the sight of Brennan's procured artifact. A cleaver, shining boldly in the candlelight. Something in the Myrian's chest twisted.

Zedra.

"The petch's with it? Ya steal from a butcher?" Tim scoffed, arms crossing as if unimpressed with the presented object. The way he leaned forward, however, told anyone watching the exchange that he knew the story behind it was anything but ordinary. "Aye. A butcher. You remember the blasted Scars and the little Red Bitch leadin', 'em?" Tim gave an enthusiastic nod. Brennan toyed with the cleaver, tossed it from one hand to the other. "I was in the mob that ran 'em out of the city. Kept hearing folks talkin' 'bout a petchin' Myrian in their merry gang. Well?" The cleaver hacked into the unbalanced table before them so hard Tim gave a jump. Brennan roared a throaty laugh. Kaie couldn't help but stare at the weapon where it wedged into the wood. Thoughts escaped her. Words didn't come. She didn't move. Yet the rage built, and built...and built.

"You killed their Myrian?" Tim had him then, face conveying his absolute skepticism as he stared at him with his dirt-brown eyes. Brennan scowled. "No, but I saw her go down. What a bloody battle that was. With all of us and the one of her? More like a slaughter. The one who put in the killing blow kept her cleaver as a trophy. Won it from them later that night at Johnny's."
"I knew you didn't kill the damned savage."
"I could've! If I'd gotten there quicker."
"Sure, mate. Sure."
"Ah, petch off, ya twat. I've gotta go take a piss." Brennan rose from his table with a final chug of his ale. Tim chuckled and did the same, waving the man off passively. In a few ticks the door creaked back open and the man disappeared into the dark. A few hammering heartbeats later and the Myrian was right after him to his friend's ignorance.

[Hwyn]

There is something to be said for those who would reside in a place like Sunberth. In their own way those who would live willingly in such a lawless city are impressive. Not in a good way mind you, but impressive none the less. They didn't tip well, and the smelled even worse than they tipped which wasn't exactly the best news for a budding musician. Sitting in his corner Vayle rested from his last song he had been playing little jigs in the tavern for his meal that night and some coin if he was lucky.

The night was still young so it was entirely likely that Vayle would be here tell the time when the fires banked and the last drunkard had staggered out of the tavern. This particular night Vayle had chose a seedier tavern than was his usual preference, his goals lying in gleaning some information about potential targets within the city. After all ninety percent of detective work was foot work. Or at lest that had been what he had been told.

Propping the long bound package that contained his Scythe and mask against the wall with his hooded cape wrapped around it. Watching the people in the Tavern Vayle looked for irregularities, Those who drank alone tended to be the most dangerous, Or tragic. Looking about Vayle spotted a lone figure who had just ordered a large amount of Ale for a single person, and they were Icily staring down a man telling a rather, Unpleasant tale. and laughing heartily while doing so.

As the man continued to talk he pulled out cleaver and beganto talk animatedly about it. Though who the scars were Vayle didn't know his ship had only landed in this god forsaken port city this season and had managd to avoid any run in's with the Local gangs. That said Vayle did know what a Myrian was he had meat many Myrians and there Ghosts on Black rock and while they could be unpleasant at time their understanding of Dira's ways was quite impressive even to Vayle. Though Vayle declined to join in some of their more Savage Rituals.

As the man finished his story he put the dagger away and left the tavern off t take a leak or catch a breath of air most likely. Though what was interesting was the woman leaving right after him, that was likely not as much of a coincidence.The question was, follow, or don't?

Against his Better Judgement Vayle left his corner tailing the woman. Pulling his cloak over his shoulders and his dark mask over his face, it was likely that this night would not be a good one for being conspicuous. Stepping out Vayle looked about, the question now was now that he had followed the woman, what would she do, and what should he?

[Kaie]

The mild mannered foreigner cautious in her actions and mannerisms were gone. The desire to remain hidden and camouflaged in common attire was abandoned. Amber eyes had turned absolutely wild. Flames blazed alive in her irises as she moved through the candlelight, slipping out the door only a chime after her target had disappeared through his. Wendy, the wretched bar maid had sauntered her way to find Tim alone at his table. So very quickly did he find himself distracted in the presence of her cleavage. A shame he didn't see the hunter pursuing familiar prey just at his back. Yet it didn't matter. The tick the Myrian found herself into the cool, filthy Sunberthian streets it was too late.

Kaie rounded the corner into the nearby alleyway. Shadows untouched even by Leth's dull glow embraced her cloaked figure, hiding away both woman and man the deeper they ventured into the blackness. Akajia, conceal me. Let this be done. Brennan hummed an unfamiliar tune, relieving himself against the tavern building without shame. The Myrian's bladed boots worked for stealth, her heel pressing into the street firmly before rolling to the balls of her feet with each step. When his stream dribbled to an end and he'd stowed away his manhood, the savage made her move.

Slender but muscular figure slammed into Brennan's back to send the man head-on into the building's side. His face rebounded from the splintery wooden siding with a gruesome snap. In that same moment, the Myrian's right hand fished at his hip to take the cleaver into her own possession. Brennan gave a protestant moan. Her left hand wrapped around the nape of her neck and hurled him up against the siding again, pressing him there with ferocious, inhuman strength. The cleaver appeared threateningly beside his throat. Its cruel edge pressed against the vulnerable flesh so roughly it was a wonder it didn't result in blood. Kaie's curled lips were up by his ear.

"Make one move and I swear to all the petching gods, I'll kill you," she hissed between grit teeth, fingers more like claws about the back of his neck than a mere vice. A sputter came from the man and then a gasp. She could see blood trickling down over his lips and off his chin. He'd broken his nose. "The petch do you want?! Mizas? I'll bloody give them to you!" he pleaded, trying to wean his way away from the pressing cleaver.
"Shut the petch up! I don't want your petching coins. I want to know about this." The Myrian lifted the cleaver from his throat for a tick to gesture with it before his eyes. It quickly returned to its place. "What? It's just a petching cleaver!"

Wrong answer.

With a snarl she tugged him back to knock his head into the building again, stunning him with pain so that she could spin him around. A brutal shove pinned his back against the wall and the cleaver bit against his Adam's apple. He lifted his hands in defeat up against the wall. "Alright, alright. What do you want to know?" Her free hand twisted up in the fabric of his shirt, clenching in a tight fist.
"You were part of the mob. Who gave the order."
"What are you talking about?"
"Who gave the petching order to attack the Scars?" Her fist removed itself from his shirt only to recoil and slam into his solar plexus. Brennan sputtered again, gasping as air left his lungs. His knees crumpled beneath him and he sank to the earth of the rotten alley upon his hands. Her leg followed to strike his side, bringing him down to lie on his back. Kaie fell upon him then, the cleaver finding its resting place once more and her body weight pinning him down.

"I won't ask again." Brennan moaned, hands coming up to to clutch over his bleeding nose. A palm came up, bidding her to wait. Head rolled to the side and he hocked some blood. "I don't petching know who gave the order. I was just in the Castle Commons. We all were." His chest heaved much like the savage's, but hers was not from breathlessness. It was from the rush that flooded her, the slow release of pent-up fury and retribution begging to be let loose. Little restrained her but the need for answers. "Then how did you know where the Scars were? How did you all know to attack?"
"City crier. At the Establishment."
"Name?"
"Tua. Tua Scully. Who the petch are you anyways? Who gives a shyke about the Scars or some dead bitch's petchin' cleaver?" Kaie couldn't help but quietly laugh in a rather sadistic fashion at that notion. She flung her hood down, revealing her wavy hair and tawny skin, which glowed even in the dim moonlight. Exoticness revealed only for the man close enough in the shadows to take them in. His eyes bugged wide at that, mouth slowly opening as if to say something. Words failed him.

"My name is Kaie, and you lot killed the wrong petching Myrian."
"No, no, no!"
The cleaver left his flesh and returned in a heavy, unskilled arc down into her victim. It buried unceremoniously into his chest, resulting in a loud cry from the man. The savage grit her teeth in displeasure. The cleaver was ripped away from his flesh. Blood pooled on his torso, soaking his clothes. Before he could get out another shout, it came down again. This time it planted itself into his shrieking face. Silence followed but it did not end. The restraints had vanished. The encounter no longer could be imagined into a job. It was personal. And thus the Myrian tore the cleaver from his skull, took the handle in two hands, and hacked it downward with all her might again, and again, and again...

Until the notion came that she might not be alone.

She sat up over the mutilated corpse of her enemy. Her lungs heaved, arms burned. Amber eyes searched the stars above before they looked over her body. Blood splattered across her middle, bathed her hands, and spotted across her face. Kaie rose from Brennan into a crouch and wiped the cleaver clean upon his untainted pants. Then she tucked into her hip the cleaver that once belonged to Zedra of the Scattered Bones, her fellow Myrian that had been a part of the sinister crew tasked with assassinating the Scars before they could escape, but who had ended up saving them right at the bitter end. "Blessed Myri, your daughter hunts those that have hunted us. I fill these barbarian streets with the blood of our enemies in your name. Zedra, find peace in his end. With your cleaver, Sister, I avenge you." Kaie murmured hastily in her native Myrian tongue, the language as brutal-sounding as the people who speak it.

No further time was wasted. The hood was thrown back up to cover her exotic features. Then she vanished from the shadows to reappear out the other end of the alleyway. Just another blood bathed Sunberthian thug wandering through the crime-ridden city streets. The woman did not run. She did not hide. She merely behaved like all the others walking in the darkness as if she had no guilt to hide. And yet, only one name lingered in her homicidal thoughts.

Tua Scully.

[Hwyn]

Had it not been for the sound of something being slammed into a wall it was likely that Vayle would have lost the woman as quickly as he had found her. Coming to crouch in the shadows of the alley Vayle watched quite a scene unfold the woman had pinned the man to a wall and was interrogating him in a fashion most brutal the man simply didn't know what was on him until it was too late for him to do a thing about it. The woman molded the man like clay in her hands though this was certainly more violent than pottery it was an art form all the same. The man was sputtering in his defense as he woman pressed him harder and harder with questions that the man had been reluctant to answer but with a knife pressing against him words came forth like water from a breached hull.

And then the Moment was over and the woman said on last thing to the man, Her name was Kaie, and they had killed the wrong Myrian. The look on the man's face was sheer terror it reminded him of the stories of those who had angered Dira, the last face they made before she sent them into the cycle. Like Dira the woman, similarly ended the man as he too late realized that his payment for his information was a swift death. After ending the man’s life she uttered some guttural prayer over the man’s body. Truly this woman was like the Myrians that had impressed Dira so the woman showed that she too understood the importance of death. This woman was someone that certainly embodied the Ideals that Vayle held. The woman then pulled away from the bloodied corpse her work done her information gathered. Pulling her hood up the woman exited the alley walking with a newfound sense of purpose quickening her pace. Creeping out from his shadow Vayle followed the woman taking a moment to bow to the new corpse whispering, “you are in Dira’s hands now friend”. Pulling his hood down Vayle threw his bagged Scythe over his back and gave chase to the woman, it was nigh impossible to follow stealthily so instead of sneaking he merely followed after her from a safe enough distance that she couldn’t lash out at him given the chance. The woman had a smell of death about her, one that reminded him of his home Black rock, Perhaps he could be of some help to her after all death was something he was rather familiar with. perhaps after all if the woman needed to get hold of someone who was dead then that was something Vayle new about.

As Vayle was following the woman the sound of shouts arose from the tavern they had just left perhaps the body had been found, the question was, in a city like sunberth did anyone care enough to investigate it? Pulling his hood lower over his mask so that all one would see if they looked upon his face would be a dark shadow.

[Kaie]

It happened quicker than the Myrian expected it to. No sooner than she had rounded a corner to emerge from the other side of the alley and wander elsewhere, the telltale shouts of the discovery of carnage arose. It was Tim's she heard first. His was perhaps the only was out of the small number of voices she heard in the darkness she'd escaped. Words faded from anything distinguishable as distance was put between the killer and the crime scene. All she could understand from the tones were the initial howls of angry grief. The man would be looking for the murderer of his slain companion. Yet Kaie was determined to ensure he returned empty handed. After all, she had been careful to wear a hooded cloak that concealed just how foreign and inhuman she was. Even if Wendy had heard her accent, so few Myrian roamed the greater world that she was certain the woman wouldn't like place her heritage. All that was left was to execute the disappearing act.

Kaie weaved through the small crowd that lingered in the streets. Most were drunkards heading home from taverns, many of them sailors and Svefras wandering back to the nearby Docks. Few paid any mind the the blood-splattered figure that passed them. Those that did seemed to lose interest rather quickly in a familiar happening. The Myrian made a twist this way, wandered through an alley that way, and soon enough found her own way in the direction of the Docks at a leisurely pace. Yet even when she swooped around the most abandoned of corners...there was always the sound of foot steps soon behind her. At first she allowed it to pass for coincidence. When it happened plenty more than twice, the paranoid woman grit her teeth. I'm being followed.

All sorts of questions rummaged through her head as she continued to move, attempting to ensure her behavior didn't change to alert her apparent stalker. Did they see what I'd done? Did they catch my name, that I'm a Myrian? Could they be from a gang? I could talk my way free from attack by someone from the Sun's Birth, but even then word would get out that I returned. There's only one way to correct this mistake. Kaie made a sharp turn, boots moving noticably quicker as she darted into a dark and narrow alleyway. As soon as she had, she turned to hide against the wall of the alley corner.

Her gladius slid slowly from its sheath as the foot steps drew closer. As soon as the follower rounded the corner to follow her, the Myrian would spring from the wall like a track. She'd do her best to reach out before he could spot her, and hurl them against the very wall she'd hidden behind. If she succeeded, she'd try to restrain them against the barrier and place the gladius to their throat. Only one chance would be given for them to say their piece before she made a decision on what to do next.

[Hwyn]

Following the huntress was a trial of it's own, even the way the woman weaved through crowds of drunkards made her difficult to follow, her sudden sharp turns not to mention her general way of moving. It was graceful like a dancer among plebeians. That said no matter how harrowing the challenge Vayle didn't have many plans to let her get away she had piqued his interest and for better or worse he would follow this through to the end.

Dodging around corners after the woman Vayle tried to muffle his steps as best he could though it was far from a prefect attempt. Following the woman began to become difficult the further he followed her it seemed that she was aware that someone was following her though she hadn't looked back a single time so she hadn't spotted him.

Following the woman Vayle lost sight of her when she entered a particularly dark alley, moving in to follow he Vayle felt an arm grabbing him and slamming him into a wall, his head reeling Vayle tried to grasp the situation that he was in, The woman he had been following had quickly turned the tables on him pinning him to a wall effectively pinning his Scythe behind him. Vayle found himself facing a very angry, very attractive, very angry Myrian with a knife against his throat. The woman would find herself facing not a face but a dark mask fashioned after a crude skeletal face. Resisting the urge to struggle Vayle new that would likely only anger the woman, raising one arm that wasn't pinned to the wall Vayle raised his hand to his mask pulling it off to reveal his face. "I'm on your side, I think. Though it'd me more accurate to say that I'm on the side of the unjustly murdered. I-i'm a spiritist in training you see... so.. I'm trying to get to the root of some of the more displeased dead in this city. And well you have a, uh, well watching what you did back there, made me think that our goals might be aligned on some level, at the very least I might be of some use to you on your hunt, Miss Myrian." Saying that Vayle placed a finger on the edge of the gladius at his throat tentatively pushing it away from his jugular. "so yeah, I'd appreciate not getting sent back into the cycle if you don't mind".

[Kaie]

The sight of the grotesque, skeletal mask was enough of an initial impression to make the Myrian more inclined to shove her gladius through the dark figure. After all, when one turns to face an apparent stalker, they don't plan on finding a non-human face staring back. Lucky for her follower, they was smart enough to tear his mask from their face. The reveal left more questions than answers. A girl, was Kaie's first observation in the pale moonlight. Upon further inspect while the person spoke, however, and the woman was quickly second-guessing that deduction. The features of the face opposite hers were feminine in nature. Long curls fell into their blue eyes. Yet there was some masculinity to be found in the soft voice, and slowly there came the realization the "girl" was indeed a man.

The petch is with the mask? The Myrian glared from the mask in the man's open open to their face, sharp eyes challenging despite the confusion. Vaylen, a man she slaughtered Ivyess alongside, wore a mark as well. It too had been eerie and skeletal in appearance. His explanation of why he donned it was vague. He'd brushed her question off and claimed it an heirloom with some sort of family tradition linked to it that he was required to uphold. The event puzzled her to that day, and yet the individual babbling in her grasp didn't seem nearly so well-versed in killing as Vaylen had. Kaie's brow fell to cast a deep shadow. Her lip curled in obvious displeasure, teeth bared.

"My side? And which petching side is that? Justice depends on perspective. What might've looked like justice when I did whatever it is you saw 'back there' to me looked like senseless murder to his mate , no doubt," she began rather harshly despite how low she was able to keep her voice's volume to avoid drawing attention. The gladius was pulled away from the man's throat. She took a step back from the man, pivoting to block his exit. It was good planning on her side, running him into an alleyway with one way in and one way out. A solid position regardless of the path she chose. "What is your name, boy? And what are your apparent goals you presume we share? What could a 'spiritist in training' want with me as far as dealing with the dead?"

[Hwyn]

Letting out a short laugh at himself Vayle rubbed his neck were the knife had been glad to find it whole. Slumping back against the wall Vayle tried to put his thoughts in order the woman had rebuffed him quite well. The fact of the matter was, he didn't know who's side she was on, Vayle didn't really know who's side he was on either.

The woman had also made apoint about Justice that was quite true, it was a matter of perspective most standpoints. "well, let me start from the beginning and I'll try to keep it ass short as possible. My name, is Vayle. As far as my perspective is concerned on justice, well the natural order is for the strong to consume the weak, and I must say that you made it quite evident that you are strong." Saying that Vayle stowed his mask. in his cloak. Standing up a little straighter Vayle looked at he woman. [d] "As a spiritist, it's my job to help send lost souls onto the cycle, and this city has more lost souls than most I've been to. That said.... you know what, I really don't know what possessed me to follow you, I saw you tail the man in the bar and then I saw you deal with him in the alley. But you didn't take his coin, or anything from him except a cleaver, and some information. You're killing for a reason, and well I dunno why, but i feel like I could learn something from you. So, yeah I'm on the side if the cycle and on the side of vengeance. Or at least, I want to be" Saying that Vayle tried to not show how new he was to Sunberth or killing. Th Myrian could certainly prove to be a horrible mistake for Vayle after all Myrian's weren't known for their mercy, bit for their lack of it, another reason that even Dyra herself had given them their own part of the cycle.

Vayle was at a loss for words after speaking his mind, after the woman had thrown questions at him that made sense in the face of his irrational reasons for following her he had come to realize that his reasons weren't rational at all, why had he tailed the woman he could just as easily stayed in the tavern and been none the wiser, but there had been something in the woman's countenance then and there still was now, and Vayle found it exciting... Though that wasn't exactly something you could just say to a person. Thinking sometimes brings clarity that is best left unrealized but then a thin smile crept over his lips, he did have an angle, and he had just realized it. "You're doing this alone aren't you, nobody is watching your back else they would have taken me out as soon as I started to follow you. From what I heard, I'd say that doing whatever you are trying to do alone will be difficult without any help.." Though, he still hadn't given her a good reason to let him help her he might have at least given her a reason to not kill him, maybe. "I mean, I'm here anyway, why turn down a helping hand?"

[Kaie]

The boy's a talker, her thoughts all but growled as he rambled. Perhaps it was a good idea he had. He had much to explain. Very little of the information he'd provided thus far had been of much use to her. In fact, it left her with far more questions than answers. Amber eyes merely stared into the feminine face rather blankly, expression still remaining just as unwelcoming and cold as before. She'd still killed a man chimes ago. His blood still lingered on her clothes, and the rage still lingered in her heated thoughts. She'd punished Brennan for his part in her kin's murder. Now what to do to punish the follower for his offense?

He speaks much about power and the natural order of things. A balance between Dira, Caiyha, and Kihala. Yet his take on justice is corrupt. He believes might makes right, that the strong dictate the power to exercise judgement. Maybe he is right. Power, justice, and vengeance. Such ambiguous thing. The gladius was never lowered. Suspicion was evident in her risen brow and harsh stare. Now and then she'd turn this way or that to check over her shoulder, but it would seem the two were very much alone. A fact the clever spiritist was quick to point out in a way that made the savage strangely uncomfortable.

"I answer to no one, but I did not come to this city alone. What makes you so sure those beside me aren't loyal? Ever think the company I keep would wait for confirmation from me before striking, Vayle?" Bronze fingers tightened their grasp around the blade hilt. She'd been so very cautious up until that night. Rarely had she left her quarters before now, resigning to plot and plan to her heart's content in the safety of shadows. That path hadn't proved fruitful given her lack of information. Strange how overhearing a conversation by chance provided her with more ammunition to investigate and pursue than a season of forethought. "You didn't answer my question about what exactly it is you want from me specifically. I deal with the living, not the dead. I know little of spirits or spiritists. I understand and follow the Goddess Queen and Dira's wishes before considering my own, and nothing further. Unless you planned of meeting the Goddess of Death prematurely, you have much to learn. Namely, not to follow a known killer into the dark."

The Myrian shook her head firmly. In Sunberth there was little room for ignorance. Though Kaie herself had come largely unprepared for the brutality and heartache the city readily provided, she'd learned much in return. Being bold only got one so far. Given Vayle's recent choices, she had a sure feeling his boldness was leading him no where but into a grave. Her mind vanished to think of Aider, the lover she'd left behind in Zeltiva. He too had struck her as ignorant and innocent almost to fault upon their first meeting. In her mind, death waited for him around every corner and lurked in every shadow. An easy target, she saw him. Sunberth had sucked away the easy-going, happy-go-lucky nature she'd admired in the man once. Oftentimes she thought it sucked away his happiness as well. Guilt struck her for but a tick, but it was quickly forgotten so that she may deal with the presence first. After all, not even Aider would've been so foolish as to follow a murderous savage into the dark. Or so she hoped.

"You want to help me but you don't even know what it is you're asking. You've no idea what the nature of my war path is...and yet you swear you believe you've something to learn from me. Killers are common, Vayle. I suspect just about anyone you bump into on the street had blood on their hands. You could just to learn from any of them. If there's a better request, one that's more specific about what you think I can teach you, now's the time."

[Hwyn]

Vayle sighed inwardly, This woman was as smart as Vayle was bad as at explaining things, not a very good combination. The woman was right Vayle could a thousand different ways to kill a man in the streets of Sunberth. In fact even in his first season Vayle had seen many deaths in this city. The hopeless faces of those who had died in this city alone and afraid haunted him to no end. Yet Vayle wasn't strong there was nothing he could do but console the spirits that lingered and send them on hoping that they get a better shot in the next cycle.

Steeling himself Vayle faced the Myrian. "I'm fully aware that you can end my life at any moment as well as you could have, and perhaps you feel that you should have. But, I truly feel like you are one of the few people who I can learn from, sure any man in this city could teach me to kill another, just as easily as they could run me through. Though, I don't want to learn to kill I want to learn conviction. When you say that I don't know what it is I want, And you are right when you say I don't know the nature of your war path is, The fact of the matter is I lot my path in this city"

Vayle felt very old all of a sudden as if the stress of the spring season had aged him and taken the purpose he had had. Pulling his Scythe from over his shoulder Vayle slowly held the large blade out to the Myrian offering his blade both in literally and in the figurative. "Myrian, I desire the power that you have, the power to kill like you, not for selfish reasons but for conviction, I truly believe that you are one of the few people who can. I don't want to lose myself to this city. I'm not good at words but can only hope my gesture proves my point, allow me to join your warpath. I feel that it's something I should do. Vayles outstretched hand holding the scythe trembled slightly. It was well within the Myrians power to Kill him, in fact it would probably be her best option all things considered. Vayle wasn't strong like her race, he hadn't been raised to kill and to hunt. All Vayle knew he had taught himself, and in the end, It wasn't enough.

"Brave Myrian, allow me to lend you my strength, so that I can learn of yours. That is my desire.

the strength to decide what is wrong and right.