prompt
During this time of year, the shadows are always growing longer and darker. Ordinarily, it's not something you think about, but for some reason there is something strange about the shadows this year. When walking through the shadows in Destiny City, it feels cold, or maybe even like the shadows briefly clutched at you. You may feel sluggish when passing through them, or you may feel drained or even unnecessarily anxious. It may be easy to brush off at first, but it's certainly unnerving.
Rakovanite was not one to waste time. He could procrastinate by taking on activities he found more favor in over ones he found dull, but he didn't waste what time he was granted in his rather strict schedule. And now that there was an added 'job' in the mix of his life, there was even less time available with which to waste.
He strode briskly down a deserted street in the commercial district, easily the most convenient place to pick out unsuspecting targets for the need of said new job. The civilians that lingered here after hours were businessmen leaving the office late, shopkeepers closing up for the night, a stray drunk couple meandering along the sidewalk. There was little activity, though not zero activity, exactly the selling point for someone like Rakovanite.
He would've preferred to not have to travel more than a block or two from his home, but streets near the campus were some degree of lively at all hours of the day and night... Students kept such irregular schedules. Nataniel would've considered himself the exception, yet here he was as Rakovanite, out in the middle of the night.
It was a Friday, at least. So nothing that would be terribly disruptive to his usual routine.
And this, he'd convinced himself, was the most convenient way to meet with Cavansite again, as the general had requested. They hadn't forged whatever bond was necessary to summon him directly to her, and frankly, Rakovanite did not intend to allow such a thing to happen. He had told Wolframite upon one of their earliest meetings, before he'd even been granted the powers of chaos, that he was not a servant, and he would not behave like one, being summoned at the beck and call and convenience of someone else. He preferred to set his own pace.
And so, as politely as he could manage, he had requested that Cavansite meet him somewhere more convenient to him: the route he'd taken to watching as he acclimated to his new abilities.
Rakovanite wouldn't go so far as to call it a 'patrol,' yet, not in the way more experienced agents went about their tasks, but he'd taken a liking to the locale, already, and had deemed that it would be among the most beneficial places for him to utilize.
There was only the tiniest flutter of a sensation of something being off, that night, though. Rakovanite couldn't quite describe what it was. It was a chilly night in mid-autumn, not so cold as to make him shiver, but something in the air sent an almost uncomfortable tingle down his spine. The lights from the shops were off or dimmed, but the scattering of streetlamps provided well over adequate brightness to see by. The wind was loud in his ears, whipping down the street in a flurry of rattling leaves and creaking buildings.
He was not someone easily unnerved, particularly over something so base as a feeling over logic. There probably wasn't much that Rakovanite would find unmanageable, and yet... He kept within the diameter of an overhead streetlight now that he was where he needed to be. Cavansite would find him by his aura when she arrived, without him having to work to find her from here.
Orangeish Sherbert
