Red Light District
"Pray tell, why is it that we are even out again?"
Even among the din of rumbling engines, wailing sirens and abject human despair, that dry, leathery rasp would ring true to Raien's ears - as if no amount of background noise could lead astray that deriding voice. The owner simply would not allow it; no, his words were far too important to go unheeded by anyone he felt the necessity to speak to. In that form, it was the crack of the desiccated whip, the cruel observations of an ancient wretch whose outward appearances and mannerisms belied something far different - something that the one person he snapped irritably at knew and guarded well. One would think that such a choleric disposition would result in frayed loyalties and mounting disinterest in regards to aiding such an individual.
But for those who truly knew him, almost none were willing to betray that man's secrets; well, that, and the fact that this particular companion was fairly inured to his bitter ramblings.
The clack of a weathered cane bounced off the slick-coated walls of the thoroughfare they now traveled, echos bounding down it and well-announcing any approach. It was a deliberate gesture, to lure out any denizens of the night who sought easy prey. When sharp and glowing eyes glanced out to behold the seemingly-easy meal, like clockwork, they would recede into the shadows. They always gave
that one a wide berth. Predators were cowards; opportunistic things that harrowed the weak and infirm. You could not begrudge them for their mindset - it was a sign of intelligence, the understanding that devouring the meek was a far easier and safer task than pursuing entities equal to themselves. When their senses took in the sight of that horrible old man, they would not take in the sight of an enfeebled human - they would feel and perceive an utter, profound sense of
wrongness to that man. Not even the allure of the shapely woman accompanying the hunched figure would be enough of a draw for most.
Of course, there was always exceptions.
"You wished to have a walk while we discussed matters, yes?" Pale, almost milky grey eyes regarded Raien with a measure of both contempt and curiosity. Damnatus had not agreed to this quaint little outing for no reason - he desired to know what was formulating in that brain of hers. Oh, his own labyrinthine mind could conjecture and put together a host of different subjects that would make Raien pensive, especially in light of all the things that have changed up their existences so very much. Briefly, a branch of cognition turned to that one particular subject that had been part of his own consciousness for some time - Selini. The vicissimancer knew that she was finding no recourse in the form of her master; thus, slowly, gradually, her reliance would shift elsewhere - and where else but his awaiting embrace? The Blood Child was a potent tool, and to possess her as an agent would ensure many facets of his work went more smoothly, or, more importantly, open up avenues he could not have explored in the past.
As they continued to trod down that well-worn path, they passed the bend that led to the t-intersection which eventually gave way to Harker Street, which in turn led them to the outskirts of the Noble's District and to the dilapidated husk of the villa. Unfortunately, the way was made more difficult by the presence of something rather unpleasant.
You," Damnatus shot a wheezy bark at the writhing, feminine frame of whites, yellows, and now reds; for emphasis, the cap on his cane came smacking down onto the tile, ensuring that her messy reverie would not continue to grip her so. An almost lipless frown scowled deep beneath a large, hawkish nose; features with far too many crows feet were pulled taught, giving the horrible old man a grimace that looked anything but human.
"Take your debauchery elsewhere, leech. You block my path."
Most other times, the warp sorcerer would have merely grumbled in growing irritation and would have taken another, albeit longer, route to his lair. This night? He was already in a mood, which was amplified by the fact that he had to deal with what appeared to be a damned vampire that did not recoil from the presence of the Empyrean upon his frame. In this guise, Damnatus did not bother to conceal his full identity - he let enough leak through to ensure others gave him a wide berth.
Scowling, the elder waited. Somewhere in the distance, the guttural cry of some sort of avian screeched across the cityscape.
