Welcome to Gaia! ::

The rift commanded an ominous presence, looming over its occupants in yawning cliffs crowned with decrepit husks of times long dead. Rife with an eeriness that settled upon skin like thick needles, it spoke of potential disaster should an officer fall into the lulls of security in such an impenetrable place. But despite its desolation, its utter lack of blue skies and green grasses and natural amenities, the cavernous Rift spoke of a strange liveliness unknown to those lingering on the surface: the shadows crept with warped lifeforms of innumerable sorts, from canid entities to avian replicas crossed with the visage of mythical creatures. Within its expanse, a general walked the long, thin path trailing toward a thick cluster of crystals.

One particularly large crystal jutted toward the sky at a near-upright angle, flanked by several violet crystals of varying sizes. Each seemingly hummed with the energy coursing within them, coating the atmosphere with an oily vibrancy that might've felt inviting toward its native denizens. But Bischofite knew so little of them - any claim toward their well-being, their enjoyment of such a caustic, unforgiving wasteland only exemplified his ignorance toward the posthuman counterparts to his fellow officers.

But today marked a learning experience, long foretold for over a week.

Cliffs cut into the horizon with knifepoint precision. Within them dotted various caves, at their base and occasionally within the midst of their height, where he noted various youma some time before. And beyond them, an unrecognizable shape peered out from the mists, still too concealed to determine its true nature. Perhaps it was one of the fabled greater youma, or perhaps simply an odd cliff formation. Maybe there was no differentiation between the two anymore.

Satisfied with the location, Bischofite produced a deep violet dreamcatcher from the confines of his coat. The crystals adorning its tassels produced the same vibrant glow of its much larger counterparts. By lingering here, he felt it too - a certain charge to the air, almost a metallic taste on the tip of his tongue. Likely the device required little energy to operate here - if it needed any ay all. Still, the waning ghost of fatigue struck him as the dreamcatcher drew his energy into its crystals, and from there he could only guess what compelled the youma to reach his location. Was it akin to a dog whistle? An obligatory shock? A nonverbal command broadcast over an unknown radius? It didn't matter; he'd never find out unless he transcended humanity himself.

Let them come, he thought. Let them all come.

The officers informed of this occasion would arrive shortly, should they choose to orient themselves with their predecessors. An array of agents, as varied as the youma who heeded the call... And what would come of such a mix? A cluster of fights, a group gawking at the innumerable permutations of recognizable characteristics intrinsic to any one youma? Perhaps even officers who chose to test their strengths against each other, with a background of youma to heighten the risks for losing? To see the various officers intermix with those long lost to the war, civilians once repeating their very routines, felt reward enough for the action.

Besides, a trip to the Rift might awaken their wilder sides.

Turning toward the path from whence he came, Bischofite scrutinized his surroundings for any sign of an approaching presence. Human, youma, it didn't matter now.

The dark, yawning cavern felt opressive and dank... Cinnabar's skin crawled at the energies that swirled here, like static on the surface of her body. And yet... her heart beat fast as she marched sharply towards the cluster of large crystals, her strapped and ringed boots snapping against the crystal of the 'floor'.

Power was intoxicating... it drew her and made her burn for more, and what place had more raw power than this one? Its why she had joined in the first place. Well, that and the threat of Painite ripping her starseed out and leaving her in the snow... with a choice between death and power, there was no question what the new lieutenant would choose.

Today was less of a life or death choice and more about finding out more about this strange facet to her faction. Cin knew about youma, in a second hand sort of way, but this was a chance to see them up close and personal, in their own environment... risky and involved getting here through a superior, but it was a promising venture.

Rounding a corner, the tall woman broke free into the large, flat area occupied by only one person at the moment. His signature was a harsh beat against her senses, indicating someone far superior to her meager power. Time to display a respectful attitude, at least for now, and she offered him a salute as she stopped a comfortable distance away and turned to study the cavern, feeling eyes on her.

For the most part, Lellouch had ignored the others that had either been or passed through the hall. Her attention was instead focused on the hall around her and the guardians with in it. The blonde cast them a glance but continued her slow pace as she looked about. The senshi watched the various figures behind the glass wall as they moved about and clawed at it. "Creepy." She mumbled. It wasn't until she heard the click of another set of heels did she finally look at those around her that Lellouch looked at the others. A blonde and blue haired senshi practically jumping up and down as she followed a pink haired Negaverse Agent farther down the hall. She threw one more glance at the wall before darting after them. "Whoa whoa whoa wait up!"



Fangite looked about slowly. "Ya know... if it were under any other circumstance, seeing something like this would be amazing inspiration.." Then his gaze turned to the Corrupt beside him. "And you're sure you're not staying?" Or if it was even a good idea to him at some sort of gathering with out some supervision.

For as long as Xenotime had been a member of the Negaverves, she had payed the rift very little attention. It was a part of what it meant to be an agent of chaos, a meeting place, an origin, and still she only ever ventured into the strange plains when required of her. It was interesting enough, almost pretty in a way, but she wasn't drawn to the strange environment. Still, the rift held it's appeals. Some more appealing than others.

Telepotation let her arrive on the edge of the small cluster of agents, and with arms folding she'd stride over the crystal strewn ground until she was within that loose knot. "General." The title rolled off her tongue in a purr. Warmth in her tone, fondness and something more. She took up post at his side, sterling eyes drinking in tall, dark figure until narrowing on familiar gold. How long had it been now sense she'd seen him? Two months? Three? Too many. Their own phone call had alleviated her immediate fears concerning his well being, but had done little to placate her worry, let alone her want to see him.

The smile she was was a veiled one, a mask to hide behind while emotions were still raw. She smiled, and knew he'd see it for the lie that it was, and no one else would be the wiser.

Curiosity marked cool features as she glanced down at the dream catcher in the general's hands, but she gave only a small arch of brows before turning her attention outward towards the gathered soldiers. Some familiar, some not. She recognized the lieutenant in red with the long, dark hair. And of course Bazzite, though she'd never seen him in his present form. He would receive a dip of her head in greeting, dark lips twitching into a genuine, temporary smile. "Long time no see, Bazz." The last time she'd seen him he'd been blushing. Quite unsure what to do about the pretty lieutenant and her bold attention. "You look like you're adjusting well."

Wandering slowly down the corridor and into the Rift, the furry dark mau briefly thought to himself that this was stupid of himself, and he should go back topside. Alas, he'd volunteered for this when the invitation had come up, if for nothing else than to gather more information for his self-claimed pet project of an actual information hub within the Negaverse. Things were far too word of mouth for his taste, and it appeared as if new agents knew next to nothing unless they managed to find a personal tutor.

As uncomfortable as he was being a Guardian Cat down in the rift, and as much as his still damaged hind leg rebelled against him within its kitty-sized splint, he secretly didn't feel comfortable letting senshi, even corrupt ones, down here to fend for themselves. At the very least he could try to help dampen their signature, make them LESS noticeable though he knew he couldn't hide them entirely.

Walking slowly, each footstep carefully made to keep the most weight off his hind leg, he hissed at a small snake looking youma, its long tongue tasting the air as if to see if the small furry thing was food. It backed off, deciding the hissing furry thing was either not food, or not worth the effort, either way Khayman was bemoaning the fact he was stuck in his cat form still. Approaching the group quietly after the single indiscretion, he held his head high and aloof, appearing as quietly regal as an injured cat could.

Nodding to Bischofite out of respect, he'd never met the man before, but took it upon himself to quietly listen to the gossiping of agents at the apartments, wandering through the halls for hours sometimes simply to glean information. He knew of the generals fearsome reputation, along with many of the other high ranking officials.


As he did though, out of the corner of his eye a small jingle of chains and flash of red alerted him to a rather familiar face. Cinnabar was here? Worry burned brightly in the forefront of his mind, and his eyebrows raised for his little lion. He'd had a brief albeit entertaining training session with her, and since then had been pilfering snacks now and then, dropping by to give an aloofly affectionate hello when he could. Perhaps Pippin was rubbing off on him to be so protective of this young kit so quickly, or perhaps it was his better nature pushing through his austere outward appearance. He sincerely hoped she didn't do anything reckless.

He was injured, and doubly, here only for information and research for his database (which he would need to find some tech savvy agent to help him with, he reminded himself quietly, seeing as he had no oppose-able thumbs nor technological experience yet). No matter how he wanted to, he couldn't really do much protecting, not that that ever stopped him when needed.

As with the sudden influx of youma, fellow agents and senshi accumulated to a significant size in response to his rare invitations. Familiar and unfamiliar, old and new, varying ranks amassed for similar reasons to his own: to learn of the peculiar beasts that now ringed them in both curiosity and compulsion. With the dreamcatcher's duties now complete, the general tucked the strange device into the confines of his coat to address the loose-knit crowd before him.

Due to rank, a select few greeted him with a reverence owed to those of power. He disliked it, but dismissed the gesture as hollow ceremony owed to strangers above. Others showed far less propensity for rank acknowledgement, either through their previous interactions with the Saarlander or a brazen disposition in the company of their peers. For these reasons, he strongly disliked the growing presence of human populace... But their collection here had little to do with mocking him.

Curiously, even humanoid youma turned up in fits and starts - stray stragglers attending out of their own interests, and among them was Bazzite himself. "Yes, Bazzite, I am holding a party. You haf' my permission to eat ze insubordinate ones before ze night is over. If not..." A sly smirk cracked his mask of stoicism, and he shrugged offhandedly. "I can't tell Benitoite of your good behavior here, can I?" From what he heard of the youma from the days when he wore a human face, Alois would've hated the snow-haired teen. Abysmal unawareness aside, Alexandre's recital of Johnathan's demeanor spelled out a heinous lack of understanding for the world around him. Only in the evening days of his human life did he develop a taste for reality, before a deep change ensued.

Now Bischofite found him the most tolerable of the lot.

Not long after his greeting bade to the youma, another familiar ghost swept into the gathering. She greeted him in a tone he knew all too well, and his scrutinizing gaze fell on her features for several long moments, probing her outward demeanor. She looked tired, likely weary of waiting to hear from him, and only through such a paltry, clandestine invitation did she finally hear of his presence. Regrettable, but the past weeks yielded far too much for her to see. As he finished drawing his gaze across the fine details of her expression, god eyes darted to her hand moments before diverting altogether to the coming agents.

With them came the blonde senshi he discovered a number of times now, all chance visits in the teeming expanse of Destiny City. Always prone to pain and suffering, he expected her to endure great changes during her tenure in the Negaverse. Lellouch, the bold senshi who called him by names far too abysmal to acknowledge. Idly he wondered if she mocked him due to the gaudy accouterments and face paint. "Jägerin. Vögleln." He acknowledged in his native tongue. Slowly he strode toward the tall blonde, hesitating only a breath from her ear. "Mind yourself around me here. Wis' our assembled audience, I may not haf' ze impulse control to resist srowing you to zeir starving, wretched hate for your kind." With a grin, he parted from the senshi and backed toward the large crystal jutting from the center of the mass.

"Agents," he greeted as he addressed the crowd. "You are here because you caught wind of a message - zat several youma would amass at zis location. Look around you!" Spreading his arms wide, the general gestured to the plethora of feral youma assembled around the group of varying signatures. Many of the monstrous faces appeared curious, perhaps too dull to comprehend the reasoning behind their arrival, and some still appeared distrustful, perhaps even hostile. Among them were interspersed a few humanoid youma, likely interested in deducing the nature of this congregation. "If you'f ever been curious to ze nature of your posthuman allies, observing zem firsthand will gif' you great insight. If you'f ever been curious about ze Rift itself, now is your chance to explore its wild expanses. If you'f ever wanted to test your prowess on ze battlefield, I can sink of no greater place to do it.

"If you haf' questions beyond ze easily discernible, consult Bazzite or myself. And should you require some assistance in... subduing one for your personal subordinate, Xenotime or Lellouch will help. Now, be mindful of yourselfs - you stand among beasts now. Zey care little for etiquette once zey smell a weakness in you." His piece finished, Bischofite clasped his hands together and paced from the crystal, returning a nod to a curious cat as he walked.

Why the hell did those damnable furry bastards have to turn up here?

Natron was most definitely not intending to stay. No, he was just running ferry service for Lieutenants - Erythrite and Chalcanthite, specifically. Ery because he owed her, Chal because, well, Chal was sort of his Lieutenant, and so he was going to help even if it meant going somewhere he disliked. He dropped the two in the Hall of Shadows, just in time to catch a glimpse of wild green hair and - yes, black and neon blue. Persephone was gone before he could say anything, but that was very definitely Fangite. His eyes narrowed and he exhaled.

"You kids have fun," the General said, "Rift is that way." He gestured, and then vanished.




Erythrite exhaled, and she immediately started in the direction Natron had indicated. "Well, no reason to stand around," she said, and there was an edge of eagerness to her voice. Getting to know a youma or thirty sounded like exactly the path she wanted to go down. Being a better officer was really all she had left, now.

Keen, sterling eyes were quick to flick towards the blonde corrupted that flung arms around Bazzite's neck in warm greeting, and she'd have smiled at the sight of it, appreciating how young she seemed, now terribly new. Like a freshly minted penny that had yet to circulate, shiny, untouched. Both refreshing and altogether amusing, because that newness never lasted. Those bright eyes would dull, that smile would grow jaded, and she would be stronger for it. She watched the unknown blonde with a touch of amusement on darkly painted lips. It lingered on as Bazzite returned her greeting, growing into a grin as she gave a small shake of her head towards his question. "I suppose the latter is the more accurate. Mustn't let any of the rookies be eaten," she paused, briefly considering it. "'Least not unless they've earned it." Then to hungry mouths they'd go. Good riddance to wasted spaces.

The smile had remained, genuine now with Bazz as a pleasant distraction, until the blonde turned her attention the general beside her with pet names passed between them. It froze pale features, leeched away the warmth until all that remained was a sharp curiosity that left pale eyes exceptionally chilly.

Lips might have curled if her own personally dubbed title hadn't fallen from thickly accented lips. It was all that kept her rooted to the spot as he strode towards the leggy blonde to murmur near her ear. Oh, but the captain's blood did boil, ever so slightly. A slow simmering heat that was uncomfortably foreign to the fighter. Jealousy, an ugly, useless emotion that she had never before tasted so acutely. In her mind she blamed the vicious general and his distance. Whatever it was that stood between them. She cursed him for the hold he's managed to gain on her. For burrowing beneath her skin and making her care for him.

She'd never been jealous like this before. But then again, she'd never felt strongly enough about anyone to care.

Fingers were dimpling the flesh of her arms as she listened to him greet them as a whole. Back straight, posture absolutely rigid. And maybe she should have been pissed that he volunteered her services to the gathered masses. It was presumptuous, wasn't it? To simply assume she would simply go along with it? No, he knew her better than that. It didn't matter her annoyance with their situation, she was loyal to him, in all things.

A long, low sigh had the girl's chest rising and falling, but by the end of it she seemed, at least outwardly, calmer. Impassive, untouchable, cold. Even her stance shifted, weight rolling to rest on one curved hip as she stared out over the gathering of agents the wider ring of youma surrounding them.

Perhaps she'd get the chance to relieve a little stress.