The deck of Sant's ship is lively for once, the entire band of misfits having come out to take in the sights of the sea around them. The usual trip to each of the isles is usually a night's worth, excluding the trip to get to where the isles are. Primo had made a plate of snacks for everyone to enjoy, if only out of what he could find in Sant's minifridge. Despite the limited inventory, he makes an impressive showing. As if that wasn't enough, the deer soon got to cleaning the entire ship for the seafarer, something more than appreciated by him. As punishment, Davanak had been forced to join Primo in this duty. One could tell from land that he despises the act, not that this stops Famiko from approaching him as he scrubs, leaning down to meet his eyes.
"Soooo... how's cleaning going for you?"
"I can't get this stubborn stain out of the flooring, and it's driving me mad. Couple that with me not really being too keen on being puppet Pablo's little helper, and you can see why I'm not having that much fun." He doesn't even make eye contact, soaping his violent frustrations into the floorboards while he desperately tries to get a stain out of them.
"I mean you needed SOME sort of punishment for nearly killing us."
"It was his idea!" The cleaning demon- cleamon? No, that's horrible- nods over to a few rooms over, where the reformed villain is no doubt working tirelessly. "I just helped with the execution! He should be getting the worse punishment, god!" Davanak can't quite see why they like the guy who made them all food over the guy complaining his head off, somehow. The fox sits with her legs crossed on the floor in front of him, softly smiling nonetheless. "Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend being gay or something?" The goat scoffs.
"We're not gay? Even you're not mean enough to call me a guy. How are we gay? Like. That would be fine but. We're not."
"Yeah and grass is blue." The akuma scoffs. He can't believe how gay they are.
"I- nevermind. The reason I'm here is simple, i want to hear-"
"Yeah yeah, "MY side of the story" yada yada yada, I heard it from the chameleon already. You ain't getting anything outta me that you haven't already heard from your prince with disorders over there." He scrubs harder, the stain seems to only be getting bigger.
"...You got into my head once. I want to at least see a glimpse into yours."
Davanak takes in the deepest breath of his nonexistent life.
"...Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh fine. If it'll get you off my ass."
"Yay!" She smiles at him with a smile that would put a diabetic's life in danger. He wonders who the real sadist is between the two of them. He focuses on his work as he rips the bandage off quickly.
"I'll make this brief- my sorry ass was born into a family at the bottom of the bottom of the underworld's food chain. Isanami couldn't care to recall lowlifes like us. I had four siblings, all girls, all tricksters, all... obsessed with romance and... the other stuff related to it... bleh." Miko doesn't even want to unpack why he's so scared of saying the three-letter s-word. She is mostly trying not to have her imagination drift off at the implication of succubi.
"Nehken's the first, and the only soul I've ever been attached to- so, I needed to make sure the guy suffered as much as possible so I could... prove myself. Prove that I'm something more than just prey, more than just a simple lackey, more than some busboy scrubbing Isanami's metaphorical toilet!" The pressure of his rant leads him to scrub so hard he busts a hole through the floor of the deck. The stain is gone at least.
"...So you use violence as a way of proving that worth?... You... don't need to do all of this just to get some sort of approval or acceptance. For what it's worth... I accept you." She tilts her head, no longer smiling. Just... looking. Calmly. Patiently. Caringly. Something stews in Davanak's expression as well, no smile on his face. Did she finally get to him? Is she finally breaking down his walls?
"...You're broken."
"...Huh?"
"That... is the stupidest goddamn thing I've heard you say in a long time... and I've HEARD you say stupid things, airhead. That MIGHT BE the stupidest thing I've EVER heard, and I've BEEN here a few more centuries than YOU have, pal. Here's something you don't seem to wrap your animal brain around- YOU DON'T ACCEPT ME! Accept me?" He stands, clutching the cleaning rag so hard he squeezes out every last drop of moisture from it like the corpse of a small rat. "You've asked me to turn away from my instincts AT EVERY OPPORTUNITY! You can't accept me- IF YOU DID, YOU WOULDN'T HAVE PREVENTED ME from HURTING YOU! I don't need your coddling "acceptance" because I'M ALREADY OUT OF THAT PLACE. I KNOW WHAT I WANT."
She did not get to him. If anything, she had missed her shot, if she even had one.
"Well... what is it you want?"
"Bloodshed."
"Anything else?"
"Violence. That feeling when you overpower another living being and deprive it of everything it has."
"...Any... thing... else?"
"Genocide. Complete eradication of your kind, of-" He scowls, almost throwing up. "Of avaxians. I personally despise every last one of you."
"...I-is there... not... r-really not... anything that doesn't involve-"
"AND THAT'S THE PROBLEM, FOXY! THERE ISN'T ANYTHING ELSE! WHAT YOU SEE, IS WHAT YOU GET."
Miko looks away, starting to doubt herself. She can't give up on him. Her ideology won't let her. There has to be something, anything that she can do to redeem him in any way.
At that moment, something pops into her head. It may not work out, but at this point she might as well try.
"...Your sisters."
"Wh- the hell does that have anything to do with this?"
"Just- hear me out here."
"All I've been hearing thus far is utter bullshit. If it makes you shut up afterwards though, I'll torture myself through all of it."
"Are you... you're not happy. I can see that. But... when I wasn't happy, it went beyond that. I just wasn't... comfortable. You aren't comfortable with yourself at all, are you? I would... kind of be surprised if you were."
"...Are you surprised? Not since you shoved me into this fleshy, hairy body that is. I don't like having straight teeth... or needing to eat... or needing to shi-"
"No no, like- um..." She pauses. This... feels stupid. But she has to try. "Even... before that. Do you... know who you are? Truly? What was it... like with all of those girls? Did you... I dunno, ever-"
"...Are you trying to apply your worldly psychology to a demon? Are you- are you genuinely looking at me and choosing to see yourself instead? Is that what you want? You think that if I was a girl, that I would be any goddamn better?"
"...Maybe. I dunno man. Could also be nonbinary, that'd be cool." Famiko has either lost track of the time of the conversation or chooses to ignore it.
"Are you just PROJECTING ONTO ME?!"
"Noooooo...?"
The two unsatisfied beings meet each other's tired eyes.
"Okay maaaaaaaybe a little."
"Y'KNOW WHAT?! Oh sure, I'll humor your ugly orange-furred ass-" The akuma stirs with an infernal rage. "FOR THE NEXT ISLE I'LL SHOW YOU HOW LITTLE THAT CHANGES ANYTHING- I'll be this idiotic she-demon you so DESPERATELY SEEM TO WANT ME TO BE- and I'll show you that NO MATTER WHAT YOUR PRACTICES DO FOR YOU, IT WON'T SOLVE MY PROBLEMS! WHICH THERE IS NOT A PROBLEM TO BEGIN WITH BY THE WAY!" He snatches her phone, spitefully looking up what a female avaxian goat looks like. Rushes over to the nearest mirror and locking eyes with his reflection, he starts to warp his physique to something that matches the pictures.
Miko stands in the hall wondering what she's done and whether or not anything good will come of it. Still, she's hopeful.
Davanak tries not to make himself look grotesque, a tall order in his eyes, however blind those are. He fills his newfound flesh with energy and molds it like clay, questions filling his mind he's never considered. What is the correct form? What does the idiotic fox think a good form means? At first he's like a child playing with putty, tightening the waist until his organs constrict. Is this right? It feels awful, so he lets it decompress, only moving some of its fat into his legs. His horns shrink, the muscle elsewhere also reconfiguring- his head hair grows, third eye hidden with a large bang. He tries to adjust his very face, not quite sure how at first- what makes a woman? Even after looking at the picture, it's all very uncertain. He goes back and forth over and over again between many masks of meat. Finally, he's somewhat satisfied with it, until noticing his missing touch- Oh. Right. The chest. He sees what fat he has left for it, a bit perplexed as he forms the more developed breasts, confounded by the feeling of unfamiliar weight. He tries to keep them as average as he can.
He stares at his creation. It's not him. The body wasn't to begin with, but this certainly isn't. She's even worse in a way- not hard to look at, maybe even beautiful to kinder eyes- but Davanak only focuses on how much that betrays the heartless being inside. This is the body of a liar. But in that way, it is fitting, he ponders. A body created out of spite, falling apart on the inside and built upon misconceptions- a pretty girl who's really nothing more than a wretched demon.
He smiles.
"THERE!" The goat is angry again when he appears to the fox, vocal cords have shifted too. He can't part with all his rasp, but he's still managing to sound about as average as Miko would want to be, misguided as that is. It's not needed, but it's there. Something anyone would call the voice of a girl. "HAPPY NOW?!"
She stands in shock, everything having happened so fast. "...How do you feel?" She looks at him up and down, confused as to why he did this so well.
"...Like a little girl's dress up doll... but... it's something."
"Something?"
Davanak grumbles, despising having to explain the gore of feelings gathered within the rearranged body.
"IT FEELS- LIKE... an act of violence against nature. Which... is appealing. That's what I hate... the fact that I don't... entirely hate it." He pinches his now properly proportioned bridge of his nose.
She smiles.
"It's not an act of violence. Though if that... makes you happy, I'm glad I guess." The mentor giggles. "Flesh is... flesh though. Right? It doesn't... matter what you do with it. I gave it to you. It's yours."
He SCOWLS at her beaming expression.
"Wanna try she/her?"
"NO."
"...Got it." She restrains herself from hugging the pouty devil.
The group is soon called over by MAN doing his daily MANing, playing a loud noise that signals them to rush over to the front of the deck. Sant looks over at the next landmass.
"Well this one is... different."
They view a large city, colored in black and gold, a large halo above all of it, presumably for decoration.
"I know who resides here... I'm glad you brought me along. I don't think you could get inside otherwise." The deer steps back, his body language showing that of fear.
"You know the bladeholder? Any insight on them?" The wolf pats him on the lower half of his back.
"He is a tyrant, hellbent on keeping peace and order, attaining it in the cruelest of means necessary. His name is Flamainius. My best suggestion is to keep a low profile, preferably sneaking into where the blade is kept, probably somewhere within his church."
"Church?"
"Oh great! He's one of those!" The dolled-up Davanak grimaces. Nobody wanted to piss him off, so that conversation was over quickly. Everyone had to try really hard not to offer any more kind words than strictly necessary, the demon wishing he was on a boat full of assholes instead of this crew.
"Welp! We should get going, then!" The chameleon stretches his back, and with that the five walk off, stepping onto the dock of the city, only for a voice to be heard behind them.
"I'm going with you this time." Sant steps off after them. Adjusting the collar of his hoodie.
"Really?"
"Look. I should probably be taking this a lot more seriously than I have been. You guys have been risking your lives from what I've heard... and it's not fair that I just sit here and wait for you to get back. MAN can hold down the fort. I at least want to feel like I'm a part of this in a way that matters."
Primo looks at MAN, who spins making helicopter noises. How will this thing even serve as a decent security system? He does not question it, for he feels if he does he may lose his mind more than he already has.
"Alright. Just make sure to pull your weight, pup." The reaper leans his scythe onto his shoulder.
"Yes your edginess!" The captain bows mockingly.
"Do not call me that."
They traverse the docs of the island, the place is quiet for a presumed city. Once they step close to the entrance, a guard walks in front of them.
"Name and title, please."
A large, bug-like suit of armour blocks the way, green accents litter the rims of their covering. They resemble that of a large, avaxian cockroach, holding a large axe, standing imposingly in front of the group of six. The deer walks up to it, the knight being even taller than he is.
"Primo. Bladeholder of the spear of longing."
"Reason for your visit?"
He hadn't thought of that. Last time he came here he only had to state his name and title. He ponders.
"We are here to attend the... party?"
"Theres a party?"
"I am hoping there is."
"...Very well. The blade-forge gala is of course being held at the bottom floor of Father Flamainius's church, make sure you and your associates are dressed formally for the occasion."
The deer breathes a sigh of relief. That was far too risky. He had hoped today was when the blades were first forged. Then again, telling time was hard when isolated. They walk into the city after the guard moves out of their way. The city is filled with people who stay silent, only speaking when necessary. signs reading "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil." The sign depicts the silhouette of a bird, donned in robes.
"So are we going shopping now?" The fox asks, raising an eyebrow.
"The gala should be a decent coverup for our endeavours, yes. We shall shop for adequate clothing."
"YAY! GUESS WHO GETS TO BE ALL DOLLED UP?" She turns to Davanak
The goat groans, regretting all of his life choices. The group walk over to a clothing store, the same black and gold color as the rest of the city. Primo opens the door, greeting the shopkeeper with a wave. The person at the desk doesn't respond, only reflexively smiling as necessary.
Nehken looks around, sniffing himself. He smells like dry blood and rotting corpses. When was the last time he had showered? He can't even remember. He looks at many suits, each having their own designs and vibes to them. He settles on a solid black suit with a red, fabric rose where the shirt pocket would usually be placed. Simple but effective, he thinks.
The fox rushes around the many areas of the shop. She wouldn't say shopping is particularly a thing she does often, but she's always wanted to put together a fancy outfit for a party. Funny how this trip has made her biggest dreams come true. A decent reward for having to deal with near-death experiences like what she's had to go through.
After much thinking, she picks out a red dress that slowly fades into an orange at the bottom, along with a pearl necklace to dazzle up her collarbone area. She picks out a pair of heels that she finds not hard to walk in, which is a lot harder than she initially thought. She ties her hair into a ponytail, leaving one bang loose for aesthetic purposes.
Now that she's done with herself, she looks over to Davanak who returns her gaze with an uncomfortable look. She pulls him around, seeing what he likes and what he doesn't. He doesn't like anything that she shows him, but he eventually settles on a simple black dress with fishnet stockings. To cap off his embarrassing outfit, the fox decides to tie a yellow bow in his hair.
The fox waves to the wolf. "Yoohoo! How do we look?"
"Huh. Never took you for the fashion type honestly."
"Not really, but I've always wanted to go to a fancy party so I wanted to look my best! ...Or the best that I could realistically afford."
The demon doesn't even want his former puppet to notice him, avoiding eye contact in every instance possible.
"So. how do you feel?" The intrepid adventurer mocks his former tormenter.
"...Like a piece of shit that smells like a bunch of flowers." He grumbles.
"Heh. Nice to see you suffering for once."
"I hate you."
"Feeling's mutual, akuma."
Shrai and Sant aren't as invested in looking their best, Sant can't even find a suit that's in his size, avaxian dwarfism be damned. Shrai simply picks out a white dress shirt and a pair of pants. He looks at the cashier, paying for all of the clothing. The cashier smiles that same forced smile, a drop of sweat slowly flowing down his face.
"Have a good day, sir!" Unhealthy positivity oozes through his voice.
Primo escorts them out, not having bought anything, reason being his current clothing merely being painted textures on his wooden body. They follow the deer to where the gala should be held.
A talon steps onto the dock of the city, the detective's one good eye drifting across the area. He makes his way across the grey wooden docks, not even knowing why he's still here anymore. His ideology is cracked, trying desperately to grasp every straw he can to justify his actions, yet nothing is working. He has hurt more than the reaper has, even if the wolf has the larger kill count.
Before he could reminisce any further, he is stopped by a large suit of armor, in the shape of a cockroach. It looks down at him.
"Name and title, please."
"I am..." He freezes. Usually he would be able to answer this question without any hesitation any other day, but now, he's not even sure what he should call himself.
"Detective Cross, the best detective on Avaxis." A foreign voice chimes in, the insectoid knight moving out of the way as someone walks towards the crow. A small, grey dove donned in black robes with gold accents. Black tendrils protrude from his back, inky tar dripping from his eye sockets housing piercing white pupils. "What an honor this is to finally meet you, detective." he reaches out for a handshake, a smile on his pale beak.
"You... know me?" The raven raises an eyebrow.
"Of course! You are one of my biggest inspirations! I've always been enamored in the idea of law enforcement. Come along! We may converse further over a meal of your choosing."
The undead bird hesitates, not knowing this man's intentions. He hasn't eaten in days, however. He returns the handshake, following the small dove into the city, extra identical guards accompanying them.
The group walks down the road towards their destination. While they have the time, Sant decides to ask a question.
"So uh, Shrai? You read about the isles before coming here, right?" the captain fiddles with his drawstrings, cautiously optimistic.
"Yup. Why do ya ask?"
"Did it specify how many wishes someone could make?"
"From what I've read, one per person." He shrugs.
"Wait, so does that mean we could all get a wish?"
"Most likely, yeah."
"That changes everything! If we can all get our own wishes granted, then we could ask for anything after Nehken gets his stuff sorted out!"
"Mhm." Shrai nods. It's so much of a prospect that he isn't sure how to wrap his head around it.
"Hm... what would I want? Oh! Maybe... I could wish for all of Nehken's... people to come back. The good ones."
"I... don't know how I'd react to seeing Lucea again..."
"Maybe, but... you don't need to confront her about it if you don't want to. I would probably also revive Lady Silas too. She... didn't deserve to die just because she helped us."
"I want to wish for everyone in this band of idiots to die, myself included." The goat grits his teeth.
"Who said you'll get a wish?" The wolf glares at Davanak.
"Fair point. I barely get a say in anything as is."
"Mine is simple. Get all of the money you two have owed me for months. Simple and efficient. Might even buy a mansion, I don't know." Sant holds his arms behind his head as Miko just rubs her arm.
"Once again, sorry we haven't been keeping up with it."
"Eh. I'm pretty much past it by now."
"...Maybe I could wish for a physical body back. Most likely a decrease in my height as well." The caregiver looks at his wooden hand, pondering.
"I can understand that. Can you still feel pain when you bonk your head on the top of the doorway?"
"Sadly, yes." He rubs the back of his head.
"What about you, Shrai? What would you want to wish for?" Famiko turns to her best friend, expecting the same type of answer as everyone else. The chameleon stops walking. His response is blunt.
"What would I wish for?... Tch. Nothin'."
"What?" She squints, everyone else turning their head to look at the cyborg.
"If I were to wish for anything. I couldn't think of anything. My life is fine as is."
"You wouldn't want riches?"
"Nope."
"Bring back a loved one?"
"Probably died for a reason. I dunno, I ain't Izanagi."
"Not even to become famous?"
"Look at me, Miko. Would anyone care?"
"I-..." She falls silent, trying to comprehend what Shrai is implying.
"...Precisely."
The chameleon walks ahead of the group, then follows him towards the large church in the center of the city. They are greeted by another guard. It seems these lifeless suits of armor are mass-produced. Primo walks up to the guard.
"Are you on the list?"
"Flamainius invited me at such short notice that I doubt I am. However, as I've stated, he had invited me personally."
"No entry to those not on the list." The guard doesn't move from his position.
"Aw." The excitable one's disappointment is palpable.
"We'll see about that." Shrai rolls up his sleeve, placing his hand onto the knight, his cybernetic arm plugging multiple wires into it. The wires pierce its armor, and before it can defend itself, Shrai has already done what he planned.
"Move along." the guard moves out of the way, letting the group pass. Miko just stares at her friend with a baffled expression.
"You can just hack into tech just like that?"
"Mhm. Was in a pretty high-level programming course before I dropped outta college." He shrugs as if he didn't just surpass a high tech security system.
"...Why haven't you told me until now?"
"Never thought it was important to bring up."
They all step into the ballroom, the same black and gold coloring plastering the walls and pillars of the church. The attendants of the party all have masks that cover their faces, all having smiles carved onto them. Church music plays, the entire room being lit by a large chandelier covered in candles with golden flames. The tables are covered in snack boards and juice bowls, all seemingly part of the table itself. Most likely so people don't knock stuff over.
Shrai stretches, pulling his sleeve back down. He doesn't even bother to look around. He gets straight to business.
"Me and Primo will see if we can track down the blade. If something happens here or we need reinforcement, call me on these." he tosses what looks to be hand-made intercoms to the rest of the group.
"W-when did you make these?"
"College. Keep up."
"How many college courses did you take?"
"A few." He starts to walk away with Primo, stepping into an elevator on the side of the room. Miko is still somewhat frozen.
"...What else haven't you told me?"
"Meh. nothing that matters." The elevator door closes.
The crow and dove sit across from each other on a long table. On the table is a sardine salmon soup. Cross takes a bite, it's watery, flavorless even. It's nothing like what his wife makes. He misses her. Why did he leave her all alone just to chase some mysterious killer? No. He's not a killer. Is he? By definition, yes but, he doesn't know what to use to properly describe him anymore.
"So. detective,--" The dove breaks the silence, and by extension his train of thought. "--how is the reaper case going for you?"
"It's... been slow."
"Really now? Not like you to be stumped."
"I'm not stumped. I know his entire situation now. I just... can't come to a conclusion on what to do about it."
"Is that so? Well, no matter the context, he has killed people, correct?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then what's the point? He caused death to occur, thus he should be punished by the very thing he does."
"I can't just execute him. He killed for a justifiable reason. That's... he's probably better than me, isn't he?"
"Hardly. You're a man of the law. And justified or not, he has sinned. Therefore, he deserves punishment. That is righteous, that is virtue, that is resolve."
"...What do you know about punishment and righteousness, Flamainius?" He's starting to get sick of the dove's preaching, ironic as it feels.
"Look around, detective. This city is perfect. No law is dared to be broken, for if my enforcers even catch a glimpse at someone breaking one... the law will stand strong, while their bones are the only things broken." He points to a window, a pair of rebels out in the distance being torn to shreds by the insectoid knights. Such a horrid sight to the raven. He doesn't know the full context, but a part of him knows it has to be an overreaction. "You can see it as a former officer, yes? This is how true order, true peace is achieved. If someone doesn't like it, that person goes against what makes it function. This is a perfect society."
The undead bird can barely speak, his own former ideology practically being thrown in his face like an obtrusive internet meme. This is how he used to think, but now, he can see the flaws in it.
"You're... you're wrong."
"...I beg your PARDON detective?" Flamainius grits his teeth.
"If a predator has to kill to survive, it is justified for them to kill. If someone's... being manipulated by a demon to fulfil their twisted agenda, the person subjected to blackmail isn't the one who should be punished." He puts his hand on the glass, watching as the corpses of the seemingly innocent kids are cleaned up by the ruthless guards. "I feel like... guys like me? We're just... predators making up our own prey."
The twisted saint sighs, his eyebrow twitching in irritation.
"I looked up to you, you know. Guess they were right when they said "never meet your heroes." he turns to Cross, his tendrils grappling around him, he unhinges his beak, two skeletal hands coming out, choking his former idol for daring to question the father's judgement.
The dove's eyes go black, such a small creature holding such demented power. The corrupt priest sees as the raven struggles, he's unable to break free. This is actually how he dies? No. no, he wants to make things right, he needs to do the right thing. He forces his arm into his coat, finding and pulling the trigger of his revolver.
The bullet blows a hole through the inky tentacles enough for him to point his gun at the hands choking him and fire again. He breaks free, noticing that he had accidentally blown off one of his arms with the first shot. He simply grabs it and reattaches it, one of the many perks of being undead. The dove gasps, choking after his failed attempt at killing him.
"EMMISARIES! GET HIM!" he screams as if he were a hawk, the cockroach knights pursuing the fleeing raven.
Miko sits next to one of the counters, drinking a cup of fruit punch. Sant walks over to her, sitting on a chair next to her. The fox can't get Shrai out of her head, such a close friend of hers, yet she doesn't know as much about him as she realistically should.
"So. Why are you sulking in the corner exactly? Didn't you say you wanted to come to a fancy party like this?" The stout canine tries to start a conversation.
"Yeah, I'm just worried about Shrai. He's my best friend, yet it feels as if I've been ignoring everything about him until now." She looks at her reflection in the blood-red juice in her hand.
"Yeah. I understand that. He's not exactly the... easiest to read. You look in his eyes and all you see are pixels, or LEDs."
"When we were facing that ugly clown guy a couple days back, he had to comfort me as I was having an episode. It's almost like he cares about others a lot more than himself."
"Hm. Reminds me of someone." He looks up at her.
"W-what? No! I care about myself!"
"As much as MAN makes sense. I can tell you're not the type to be extroverted like this, especially not for this long. It must be tiring."
"It... can be, yeah."
"Shrai cares about you, and for what it's worth, even though we barely ever talk, I care about you. All I ask is that you live for yourself, and enjoy yourself. I would've evicted you guys months ago if I didn't care about you guys. For now, this is a break you need. Until Shrai calls us, if he calls us, just live for the moment." He smiles and she can't help but return it. Nehken walks over to her, a skittish look on his face. He isn't used to this many people in one room. Famiko grabs his hand, he jumps slightly. She places her drink down on the table, focusing all of her attention on her partner.
"Hey. look at me." The wolf obliges to her command. "Shall we... dance?"
"I-... yeah." The two take the floor. Nehken hasn't danced before, he had never learnt how. He doesn't even know where to begin, yet, looking into Miko's eyes, all that anxiety seems to wash away like he's under a warm shower. The fox's heterochromic eyes glimmer like two shimmering crystals.
"Just follow my lead." and that he does, following her movements. Step after step, he seems to not be doing terribly. The church music is calming, sounds of violins and harps filling the atmosphere of the room. She shows him how to spin her, the motion being clean, effortless to him.
At this point, all of the wolf's worries fade, along with the fox's, only being focused on each other. Despite the room being filled with strangers, it feels as if they were the only people there that mattered at that moment. The weight of collecting the blades, the burden of the reaper's curse, even the danger of being in enemy territory doesn't matter to them. They're just happy they can just be.
"I love you." He holds her close, not wanting this moment to end.
"I love you too." She leans herself back, Nehken holding her all the way, before they share a kiss right there on the dancefloor.
Davanak sits in the corner of the room, glaring at the two. He has failed. His puppet isn't under his control anymore and he's been reduced to a weapon his girlfriend can use on a whim. This is worse than any torment the underworld could conjure. He wishes he could just rush over there and rip both of their hearts out, scare them into submission, anything to feel like he has control again.
"U- Um... ex- excuse me m-miss." interrupting his brooding is a short, male deer wearing one of those facemasks. "I- I don't have a dance partner... W- Would you c-care to... uh..."
Such a shallow backbone. Looks as if he can't even talk to a woman properly without wetting himself on the spot like a toddler. He grabs the deer's mask, taking it off and tossing it to the side. He runs his finger under his chin.
"Sure.~" The goat kisses him on the lips. Maybe leading someone on and violently breaking their heart will fill the void. The small lovestruck deer follows him into the dancefloor like a mindless drone.
The raven rushes through narrow hallways, the black and gold coloring never ceases to change. Everything looks the same, all stale, all stagnate, never evolving, never changing. If he didn't know better, he'd think he's in an endless loop of a hallway, but he is not.
He fires stray shots at the multitude of guards behind him, them flying towards him using their translucent green wings. The bullets do nothing. He assumes the knights were designed to be sturdy as a way of compensating for the small roach of an avivian that is their master.
Hold on, they're metal. The gunslinger holds out his hand, clenching it as each of the guards' helmets collapse in on themselves. Their bodies still go, but they cannot see where the raven hides. He rushes into a room, the surveillance room.
He catches his breath, not having had to run that much from something like that in years. He looks at the cameras, trying to figure out what his next move should be. He then sees him, the reaper. No, he shouldn't call him that. Nehken. He looks to be having a fun time down at the bottom floor where a party is being held. How he hasn't been caught is beyond him, but a part of him is glad he has finally gotten a break from all of this.
"...That's it!" This is how he'll make up for all of those years of ignorance. Without wasting a single second he finds his route and rushes to get to his destination.
Taking a much stealthier approach, Shrai and Primo make their way through the corridors of the higher floors. The chameleon had hacked into the mainframe of the security system and mapped out where to find the blade. He deactivates any guards in their way, some proving to more of a hassle than others. While the chameleon is focused on the task at hand, the puppet-man lets his mind wander.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Well duh, so we can get to the blade easier." The chameleon dismisses the deer's intentions without even knowing it.
"Not what I meant. I mean, why are you doing this for Nehken?"
"The guy's suffered enough. I want to help 'em. It's simple, what's there not to understand?"
"Theres something more to this, isn't there. You want to prove something."
"Tch. to who? I don't have any parents anymore! They died in the car crash that got me my techno-noggin so-"
"To yourself."
The chameleon stops for a second, turning his head to the deer. He speaks, in a much more tired voice, as if this whole time, he had been faking his laid-back attitude.
"If I can make a difference to this one guy, then maybe that'll reignite that drive again. That drive to learn, that drive to surpass, that drive to... live for myself for once."
"...You shouldn't have to prove to yourself that you should have ambition. That's not healthy."
"I know that. I know, but at this point. That's all I feel I can do."
The chameleon opens the next door, hoping to leave this topic rest, only to be greeted by a room filled with emissaries that have not been turned off.
"Well shit."
"Well fiddlesticks."
"Who in the world says that anymore?"
In that moment they scramble around the room, the chameleon trying to deactivate each and every one of them. Since there are around twenty of them it is proving difficult, Primo trying to round the majority up using silk strings that he summons out from his fingertips. One of them manages to get a decent hit on the marionette.
It doesn't leave a large dent, but it chips a bit of paint off of his shoulder. This infuriates him to a degree that shouldn't be felt over chipped paint.
"Oh... oh you senseless piece of SHIT!" The ties strings around the group he had rounded up around the room, whipping his arms downwards, crushing all of the large ironclad insects with the force of a thousand trucks. He dusts his hands off, the cyborg looking at him confused. "Now then, let us move along." He acts as if he didn't just tear a bunch of emissaries apart with strings over chipped paint.
They walk down the path, their trip being oddly silent. The deer doesn't know what to say to him anymore, nor what to ask of him. This is something that he has to face on his own, as much as he doesn't like to admit it. They make their way into the hall that's right before the room where the blade's being held. The guards seem to be destroyed. Did someone get here before them?
Before they can enter, the body of a dove is thrown out, lifeless or unconscious, they would rather not check. The person that walks out of the room is Cross holding the blade of the isle, a small dagger, the dagger of will.
"Oh great. Not you again. Alright put up your..."
The raven throws the dagger down at the chameleon's feet before he can even finish that thought.
"I'll see if I can get the other two weapons for you. When you see Nehken... tell him I said sorry."
He leaps through one of the windows. The chameleon picks the small dagger up, surprised they were just handed it by him. Does he have some sort of ulterior motive? Hard to say.
The two make their way downstairs, back down the elevator, telling the rest of the group through the intercoms that they had got the blade. Once Shrai steps back into the ballroom, the fox rushes towards him and hugs him. No words exchanged.
"Alright. Let's get going." Nehken signals to his former tormentor, who is still egging on the little deer.
"Oh. alright, guess I had my fun." The demoness walks away, leaving the deer alone. He tries to grab his dress, only to be met with an irritated stare with blackened eyes as the goat's form shifts back to its usual, crude form. He lets go, horrified as to what he had spent his night helplessly in love with.
The emissaries, once at Flamainius's beck and call, drag him into a dark room filled with screens and wires. Once the dove comes to, he is struck with a sense of dread. The CEO, slowly turning his head, addresses the small bird.
"You failed?"
"M-my liege, please understand that I tried all I could-"
"Silence. I've poured so much of our company resources into constructing the city, your security systems, and those Izanagi forsaken emissaries, just for you to not even NOTICE WHEN THAT ENTITLED BAND OF FOOLS AND ANOTHER BLADEHOLDER WALK ONTO YOUR DOORSTEP?! Instead, you take the time to worry about the one that's the LEAST of our worries."
He steps down, mechanical hands constructing a temporary staircase for him as he starts to take off his gas mask.
"They hacked into my security system- I- I did not know- m-my lord! please!" The emissaries throw him onto the ground in front of the mad doctor. He tightens his rubber glove, grabbing the dove by the throat.
He looks into his eyes, a putrid yellow with no pupils or irises to speak of. Solid balls of mucus within his eye sockets. He rips off his gas mask, green smoke dripping from beneath his crooked teeth like liquid nitrogen. Flamainius can only feebly struggle as the lizard pulls him close, staring into his eyes, filled with dread and filled with despair.
"You broke my rules, bishop. Therefore, you will be punished like all the rest." More green smog fogs out of his mouth. The demented saint takes his last breath as his lungs are filled with the toxic gas. Within his mind he prays his last prayer to whatever god he may believe in. He goes limp, before his body is dropped. The lizard puts his mask back on, irritated, enraged, and everything in between. Behind him he can hear shuffling and shambling. He doesn't even look at the entity behind him, for at least it knows their place. He speaks to it.
"You're the last line of defense before they get to me. Buy me as much time as you can, and do NOT underestimate them."
"Very well, doctor. I will ensure they are– eradicated." Its voice sounds like that of nails on a chalkboard, like the body itself is being forced to use its own vocal cords. It cracks, him scraping across the ground and out of the room, leaving their headmaster alone once again.