Welcome to Gaia! ::

Azra'iel sat somewhat sulkily in the seat his host had shown him to before moving off, laughing happily, with his parents. Why he had been included in his parent's invitation to this garden party, he couldn't fathom... until he had arrived in the park to find a table full of children; all within five years of his age by the looks of it. The adults were a way off at their own tables with a string quartet nearby, leaving the hustling servants to keep an eye on the group of youngsters.

The eight year old barely managed to resist slumping in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest, but knowing his mother's insistence on manners, if she saw him, that just would NOT go over well. He did not want to be here. He wanted to be reading or riding his pony or... no, he really wanted to be reading. His new tutor would be arriving in less than a month's time and had sent some books ahead for Azra'iel to look at. While most of them were classical literature, there had been a fictional adventure book hidden in the middle of the pile. He had been determined to avoid it, he didn't have time for some silly kid story...but the curiosity had quickly gotten the better of him and now, he could barely bring himself to put the story down!

So rather than socializing properly, he pretended to pay attention to the chaotic babble around him---and let his thoughts linger on adventures involving daring swordplay, brave youths, and blood-thirsty pirates.

A devastating loss between Azra---er, the young hero, and the evil pirates forced Azra'iel to begin to surface from his musings. He couldn't keep imagining the story because he didn't know what happened next! Absently noting that the tables were all full, but there was still not yet any sign of food, Azra'iel sought to loose himself back into his adventure and make up what happened next when a soft, disgusted sound, drew his attention. Before, there had been an empty seat across the table, now a girl was there and Azra'iel noticed her just in time to see her turn her nose in the air.

Since she wasn't looking, Azra'iel felt slightly less rude watching her from the corner of his eye. She dressed and affected the mannerisms of the young ladies reaching their debut, but her face still held the roundness of youth. Obviously, she did not want to be here either. Since she didn't want to socialize and he didn't want to socialize, he was perfectly happy leaving her alone for the rest of this stupid dinner.

But his conscious quickly got the better of him. Or perhaps it was the Glare he was sure he felt from his mother over at the main dinner table, Azra'iel wasn't entirely certain. Clearing his throat to catch the girl's attention, he stood and offered a polite half-bow.

"Pardon my rudeness, Miss. I did not see you arrive." Such formality coming from a boyish soprano voice was highly entertaining, but Azra'iel was not aware of the dichotomy. "Has a servant seen to your drink or would you like me to assist you in getting their attention?"

"A-azra'iel Einar, at... your..." Azra'iel trailed off and tried to not squirm. Wide champagne eyes blinked twice before Azra'iel fully processed the stern set-down he had just received; Rosel's glare was almost as scary as his mother's.

He could drop the act, huh? He wasn't sure what she meant, he wasn't acting. But if she was going to be rude he could certainly keep up with her!

He huffed, petulantly.

"Well excuuuuse me, Rosel Shimala, I was taught that it was proper to be polite to ladies. But I suppose since you're just a girl, it doesn't matter so much."

Forget her! He didn't need to talk with some snooty girl, he had never met the Shimalas. He was certain his grandmother knew them, she knew everyone in Moonfall! Of course, since she wasn't here, that probably didn't really matter. Not to mention, a swarm of servants had just appeared with food! His stomach grumbled audibly as soon as the scent hit him, annoying girl almost completely forgotten.

'Finally! The sooner we eat, the sooner we leave! And I'm hungry!!'

Rosel's comment merited little more than an eyeroll. Especially since he was quickly occupied offering a polite thank you to the young woman serving his meal! Of course he was a child, he was only eight! Well, almost nine, but still, he didn't have to worry about grown-up stuff until he was... twelve or so? That was forever away. All he had to do now was mind his manners and behave for his tutors!

'Well, our host seated her over here, should I point that out? I wonder if she'd lose her temper... no, that isn't lady-like. Maybe she'd just get all red trying to not lose her temper?'

Laughing to himself and fidgeting a bit in his seat as he debated, Azra'iel draped the linen napkin on his lap and methodically began to cut his food. It would probably be smarter to let Rosel think she had won so he could eat dinner without having to make polite conversation. He was glad they had skipped a salad course for the children's table, he didn't like salad very much. He wouldn't have minded some soup, but perhaps since it was so pleasantly warm there would be a fruit soup for dessert...

Chewing thoughtfully, Azra'iel swallowed and took a sip of water before speaking.

"You know, our host seated you here, so obviously, you're the only one who thinks you're a lady."

Oops. So much for small talk about the delicious food.

"But if it makes you feel better, I concede you have the best manners at the table!"

Azra'iel's eyes twinkled mischievously as he lifted another bite to his mouth. The older girl was kind of fun to bother.

Champagne eyes scanned the ancient runes book held before them by strong, elegant hands. Runes were not a specialty of his, but knowledge was a valuable thing to acquire. As his flaxen bangs fell forward into his eyes yet again, the witchling gently closed the book on runes and then violently blew his bangs away from his face---watching, exasperated, as they landed in the same spot he had been trying to remove them from. Today was just not his day.

And he was not hiding.

He was NOT hiding!

Azra'iel sighed, quietly, to himself: even though there was no one about to hear. A Grave of Fairies trial had been announced and it seemed he was one of the only witchlings who qualified for the trial that was not anxious to see it through. In fact, he had not bothered to practice any spells and did not plan on leaving Makai to go to the trial grounds. He was not hiding, he was not scared, he was not worried; he was simply not ready to leave Makai. He definitely did not find any interest in staying to teach; but he was not done studying.

Okay, so maybe he was hiding a bit.

But the huge library was such a wonderful place to disappear into! He had almost gone to Lumena to go to the bigger library there, but after the Hallows Eve Ball... well, he had no plans to return to Lumena just yet. So here he was, deeper into the Makai stacks than he had ever been. There were not restricted sections, per se; but there were areas where it always seemed one would be somehow distracted before entering. But since most of the school was at the trial grounds, Azra'iel was taking advantage and looking around without the usual library staff about to play guard dog.

He certainly would never try and of these arcane spells and incantations, not until after he spent more time with Headmistress Miusa and passed his trials.

...though they were rather tempting.

There was one book, in a far corner shelf, that just called to him. It almost appeared to have an aura of light around it when in his peripheral vision. He had not dared touch it yet, but he knew he would have to look right before he left... or after he finished scanning the one he was holding... or maybe right now...

Before he knew it, Azra'iel was standing in front of the siren book, watching his hand hover over the binding without any memory of walking to the book or commanding his hand to reach for it.

A soft voice shattered the haze of silence and the spell of the book, causing Azra'iel to jump and turn quickly, rapping his elbow on the bookshelf behind him and showering him with dust. Rubbing his elbow with a wince, he dismissed the oddly overwhelming sense of disappointment he felt and found his eyes dropping to meet those of the girl who had spoken. Even bundled in her bulky sweater, he could see that she was beautifully delicate and pale and, judging by her hair clips, had an affinity for bones.

Just like Ruria...

...he appeared to have a skill at finding odd women.

Azra'iel raked his hand quickly through his hair to loosen the dust and get it out of his eyes. The other witchling's rather direct gaze caused him to rub nervously at the back of his neck as he offered her a sheepish smile. "I am certainly thinking about it, especially since the librarians are not here to glare me away!" Reaching out and sliding the book in question off the shelf, Azra'iel added it to the small stack he was carrying to take back to his room. As soon as he had, he felt an odd sense of satisfaction. It was similar to the previous wave of disappointment; a wave of emotion that he understood but experienced as though it was outside of himself. How strange.

Realizing the other witchling was still standing there, Azra'iel focused back on her. "I apologize if I am in your way, this is the only book I need here." Forgetting how close he was to the bookshelf, he stepped back to move away...only to have his elbow once again come in contact with the bookshelf. Rolling his eyes as a slight hiss of pain escaped him, Azra'iel wondered how he was at all capable with a sword. Put him in close proximity to just about any female and he became the world's largest clutz for no apparent reason.

'Whispering breezes shifting the fleeting shadows---where did I read that?' Azra'iel shivered and mulled over the thought while noting that there were no actual shadows, just denser patches of darkness. It seemed to him to echo the heavy sense of foreboding that surrounded the evening's task.

Hunching in on himself, the usually-confident young witch loitered in a small clearing some-what near the area where Professor Miusa had asked Cerberus Knight and Ars Lilium trainees to meet for an exercise. He did not fear the dark, per se, but he was not as confident of his abilities without the assistance of generous ambient light. Assuming he would need his powers at some point, he was in the clearing trying to gather as much energy as he could from the dim moon and stars.

...and vaguely hoping for someone to join him. While he enjoyed silence a great deal, the silence cloaking the forest this evening was far from the comforting embrace of the silence in the Makai Library and company might ease the wait. Interlocking his fingers and arching his back, Azra'iel looked up toward the sky as he stretched and started whistling softly. In his mind, he sternly told himself to move forward into the forest, but his feet refused to comply. For now.

The library was closed. The library was closed. What else was Azra'iel supposed to do with his night? He had written to his little sister just a few days prior, he was completely caught up on his work, honestly was too worn out to practice any further, and had eaten before heading out into the rain to find out the library was closed!

Champagne eyes blinked owlishly at the change in light level as he moved from the halls into the dining hall. Running his hand through his hair, shoving his ever-disobedient bangs out of his face, Azra'iel glanced quickly around the room. It seemed no one was really about this evening. Must have been the rain. Shrugging to himself and moving toward the hot beverage counter, the witchling retrieved a cup of mulled cider and turned to head back to his dorm room...but a colorful flyer for the Hallow's Even Ball caught his eye hanging on one of the discreet corkboards near the doors. In the back of his head, he could already hear his mother lecturing him the next time he visited home in regard to his 'lack of a social life.' His hand slowly squeezed the mug of cider it held, until his knuckles were white and his eye twitched slightly at the corner. He hated being lectured by his mother. Especially about his 'social duty.'

And he really could not believe he was standing, practically in the door of the dining hall, worrying about a theoretical lecture from his mother. Who was in Moonfall. And did not even know about the ball. Probably.

Now this was why the library being closed was bad. Without new books to distract himself, Azra'iel spent far too much time thinking. Far more important than the stupid ball was the unease that had been growing as the number of murdered witches climbed. The air was heavier with panic and suspicion every time Azra'iel ventured outside the grounds of the academy. He rarely did so now, preferring to somewhat lose himself in his studies. As ashamed as he was that he was hiding behind books, there was nothing he alone could do to help, nothing tangible that he could protect.

With a frown settling between his brows, Azra'iel turned back to the room, eyes scanning the tables and skimming over one occupied by a man he thought was a professor he had yet to meet before settling on a dark-haired witch and a witchling with pink pigtails. Moving over slowly, so as to not seem too intrusive, Azra'iel waited for a break in the conversation to see if he might be able to join them.

He certainly would not do well to go sit alone in his room to think all evening.

Consciously smoothing his brow and summoning a lopsided smile, Azra'iel offered a half-bow to the witchling and as he sat across from the pair, swiveled his head to nod at the witch, Rajih.

"I am Azra'iel. It is a pleasure to meet both of you." Hesitating slightly, Azra'iel looked down at the warm mug he cradled in his hands. He did not mind meeting new people, but he feared he might be disrupting a private conversation since they had been speaking so lowly before greeting him. Looking back up, he smiled apologetically. "I hope I am not interrupting too private a discussion. I... greatly appreciate the offer of companionship. It is not the most pleasant night to be spending alone, studying."

A bit surprised to have apparently entered a discussion on magics of all things, Azra'iel glanced over at Rajih, realizing he must have been demonstrating his powers earlier. Not that it was an odd concept in a school of magic, Azra'iel simply acknowledged that he was a bit more studious than most and did not expect conversations and demonstrations of magic outside of class and immature posturing. Intrigued by the opportunity, he shook his head in response to Ruria's off-handed question.

"Oh no, please, Ruria, do not allow me to prevent you from continuing your previous conversation." A genuine grin lit his features, brightening his eyes and making him look far friendlier. "I certainly do not wish to impose and how can any student of magics refuse a demonstration of another's powers."

Azra'iel leaned in, almost forgetting his manners enough to put his elbows up on the table. What a wonderful distraction on such a dreary evening!

Well! He had asked for excitement! Azra'iel blinked off the slight daze after one of Ruria's summoned skulls cracked into his own. Really, for a student witchling to even be able to summon something like that was quite impressive! He himself could summon some somewhat impressive barriers, but his more offensive spells were---in need of work. And he'd never been that close to dark magics before and was intrigued that it did not intrinsically....spark against his light powers. He had always half-thought it would.

Taking Rajih's offered cooling pack, he placed it absently against his head as he started to focus on the light in the room around them.

"Ah, thank you, Rajih. And to... answer your earlier question, ah, about my magic..." Speaking somewhat haltingly, as he was mostly focusing on gathering light energy, Azra'iel forced the light around them to form a softly glowing dome about the skull that Rajih had picked up. "...I manipulate light."

Looking over to Ruria, Azra'iel hesitated to offer any assistance with containing the other skull; mainly because in his limited experience, females, especially those with powers, were far more independent than most males gave them credit for and they frequently did. not. want. help.

"Are... you... alright, Miss Ruria?" He held his focus in case he could offer additional assistance.

Backing out of the bookstore, still calling his thanks and goodbyes to the owner, Azra'iel was lucky he did not trip backwards down the two steps leading up to the shop or bump into some unfortunate soul walking by. As a breeze whipped past him, the pale-haired witchling burrowed his chin further into his scarf; his only concession to the chill in the air. Moments into being back outside, he was regretting not grabbing gloves and maybe even one of the heavy sweaters his mother had forced on him.

Turning to face the bustle of the town square, Azra'iel was surprised to see a number of familiar faces. There were many more people about than when he had entered the bookstore earlier that morning. Now he was going to head back to the Castle Inn, get some mulled cider, and settle into the sitting area by the fire to enjoy his newest acquisition.

As he set off across the square, a figure in a gorgeous, fur-trimmed cloak stepped down off the curb across the street from him. The owner turned, scanning the square and flashing brilliant green eyes; eyes that sparked torrents of memories from awkward childhood and early teenage social gatherings. Champagne eyes flared as wide in response as Azra'iel froze where he stood, hoping that if that woman truly was Rosel Shimala of Moonfall she did not see him.

It just could not end well for him if she did.

Locking his eyes on the door of the inn, Azra'iel gulped down a deep breath and crossed the street just outside of Rosel's line of sight, keeping his eyes away from hers.

Azra'iel was experiencing tunnel vision; first-hand. If all he focused on was the door, that was all that existed and he would be there in no tim----

The moment the softly rounded feminine hip [rather roughly!] bumped his own, the witchling knew he had left any and all luck he might have had back in his dorm suite. Straightening further, if that was possible, he forced a socially pleasant expression onto his face and turned to address his some-time childhood menace.

Gold met green and clashed violently, hidden behind flawless society masks. Azra'iel was deliciously smug in his inner most thoughts that Rosel now had to look up to meet his gaze. His very inner most thoughts.

Keeping eye contact, the golden-eyed boy took a deep breath and managed to summon a smirk. He offered a perfectly executed half-bow, capturing Rosel's hand to bow over. She had addressed him informally, so it was most proper to greet her more intimately. It would also make her twitch. How wonderful!

"Miss Rosel Shimala, what a marvelous surprise to see you here in Lumena! I was unaware you traveled this way. It's been years since I've had the pleasure of your company; why, last I heard your lovely name, it was linked to approaching nuptials!" Azra'iel had not planned on bringing that up, he had planned to avoid this situation entirely, but there was a man escorting her so now he found he was genuinely curious as to what being could put up with her constantly. "Is this your incredibly lucky husband? Your family must have been thrilled! How are they and how have you been? Have you come for the ball?"

It was kind of like... watching a play. He could not quite believe the things coming out of his mouth. As a child, she had made him stutter. Apparently, now, she made him babble. He was never this talkative or this antagonistic and he hated the societal game of small talk! Why did the green-eyed siren bring out such...vindictiveness in him?

Interesting, apparently Miss Rosel had become quite the actress. No really, Azra'iel was certain no one's personality could change that much in two or so years. The older witch had never shown herself to be a giggling debutante; at least not to him. She had been superior, sly, and remarkably patient for one so short-tempered.

He could almost admire that ...if those traits together in her did not do so much to make his skin crawl.

But regardless of whether any or all of her speech was an act, Azra'iel could not stand to see a woman cry or even come close to it. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to assume the true state of her feelings on the past. Pale golden eyes rose, cleared of both apprehension and challenge and met her distinct neon gaze.

"I am sorry to hear the suffering you have endured, Rosel." The younger man's voice dropped to a soft, solemn tone as he reached out to gently squeeze the hand closest to him. It was probably the most genuine overture he had offered her since they had met. And in the back of his mind Azra'iel realized she would not even appreciate it; it would in fact probably come back to bite him somehow.

Breaking away from the seriousness of that exchange, Azra'iel offered a cautious smile and a nod to the witch Rosel had introduced.

"A pleasure, Master Salem. I hope the day finds you well. Are you a resident here or traveling through for the upcoming spectacle? If Miss Shimala here is able to attend, I highly recommend you request a dance. As I recall, she can be the life of the party if she so desires."

Seeing the distinct pink pigtails of Ruria out of the corner of his eye, Azra'iel thought to at least attempt to escape from his trip down memory lane. Perhaps his fellow student would offer a means to that end! If she would just turn her head a bit, he might be able to catch her eye...

"As I said, a pleasure to meet you, Salem. Rosel, charming as ever; I am so glad to see you well and perhaps I'll see you both at the ball." Childhood training would not allow him to just leave, and Rosel knew it. He wondered if she would be rattled enough by his earlier sincerity to dismiss his company without a fight. They were playing the game of civility well, but how long could that truly last?

The faintest dusting of pink appeared on Azra'iel's cheeks; though whether it was from the nick-name Ruria had bestowed upon him or her insinuation of him and Rosel attending the ball together, he could not have said.

Intimidated by Rosel's unexpected silence and slightly nervous about the odd gleam in Salem's eye as he spoke of the pink-haired witchling, Azra'iel mentally stumbled about trying to figure out the proper behavior for the situation. His training told him introductions were in order; his instincts told him to run away and try to keep Ruria from getting involved. At least with Rosel: Salem was a completely unknown entity. He seemed pleasant enough, but he was willingly escorting Rosel so... well, Azra'iel was amazed with all the risks he had undertaken to touch the lightning wielder during their conversation. She had zapped him for far less than the statements he had made today... was her control getting better? THAT was a terrifying thought.

Azra'iel's eyes flew over to catch Rosel's, but she was not paying him any mind what-so-ever or perhaps she was letting him answer just to watch him squirm... figures. Shifting his eyes skyward for the moment, 'she never reacts predictably, why be silent now?' Wide, slightly panicked champagne eyes met Ruria's, but his voice remained relatively smooth. "U-unfortunately, she is not my date; I have not found someone to attend the ball with me yet! Though if I am able to attend I certainly cannot deny...the request of an old friend."

Azra'iel blinked once.

Then after a moment blinked twice more.

Really, the idea of those skulls in bowties...

Then, suddenly, it occurred to him that Ruria had just asked him to attend the ball with her. She had asked him! That was somewhat backwards! The young man felt the dusting of pink on his cheeks explode into a true blush. He was used to conniving debutantes who would play words games to coax a man into offering what they wanted, not sometimes-bubbly, sometimes-apologetic witchlings who could summon crazy talking skulls out of thin air! Ruria's slightly blunt, innocent manner was really ...well, quite refreshing!

An almost shy grin lit his face as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. "I-I---uhm...hmmm." Azra'iel cleared his throat and forced himself to stand straight and look Ruria in the eye with a more confident smile. He was most certainly not some coy schoolgirl. "I would be honored to attend the ball in your company, Ruria. I rather think Bitter and Biter could quite possibly look better than I do in a bowtie, but I do suspect I am the better dancer." He tried to keep a straight face after his comment. He did not know his fellow student well enough to gauge her sense of humor, but he had had a pleasant enough time talking the other night to know he could enjoy her company. Though preferably without the summoned skulls. She was... really rather cute.

Amused and rather charmed even though he felt slightly out of his depths, Azra'iel had almost forgotten about their audience. Rosel would not let him live this one down and Salem? Why had Ruria called him a ghoul? Oh well.

New tension had blown in to replace yesterday's chill.

Azra'ial watched from the corners of his eyes as people cautiously moved about the town square; conversations and general noise all seemed far more hushed than the typical clamor and specters of reapers haunted the out-of-the-way shadows about the square. Not that their presence had made a difference last night... another hollowed out witch had been found: this time a living shell with no magical heart, what a horrific fate. Azra'iel's fists clenched at his side, knuckles white around the grip of the sword he had brought with him and now felt compelled to carry. Why was this happening? How could he help? How could anyone help...

Rosel and Ruria had in fact ended up dancing about the square during the previous evening, to himself, humming, partially remembered tunes. Salem had left before that started, probably to spare himself the torture. Azra'iel had a pleasant enough voice: thankfully, Rosel had enough material to pick on him with; but it had been an awkward situation and singing certainly was not the young man's forte. But it was at least a moment of amusement in the darkness that was pressing in closer and closer. Drawing in a deep breath, the witchling also drew the weak sunlight into himself, mingling the energy with his soul's light and hoping to warm himself.

The wind pattern changed abruptly as he moved into the covered passage to the festival grounds. Most of the detectives had left earlier, but Azra'iel found himself drawn to the area. He generally was not sensitive to ambient energies, but even he could almost feel something here... until vaguely familiar, rather abusive voices jolted his concentration. Looking around, Azra'iel saw Ruria sitting on a nearby bench all but buried in a dark scarf and in the company of her summons. Not wanting to frighten his new friend or draw the wrath of the skulls, he called out a soft greeting.

"A good morning to you, Ruria... and, er, gentlemen? How are you finding the day thus far?"

'....wait a minute.'

"They can eat?" Azra'iel gestured to the skulls with his eyes as he sat in the spot the girl had freed up, murmuring so hopefully only Ruria heard.

But at her quick turn in the conversation, Azra'iel became serious; dropping all hints of teasing.

"I had heard. It is... unfortunate." Unfortunate. What an inadequate word. It was horrific. He could barely muster a whisper as his gaze followed the direction of hers to the hovering detectives. "What a horrific fate..."

Were any of them safe, really? Azra'iel couldn't offer any reassurances beyond his protection and he wasn't sure that was worth anything to his new friend. He wasn't sure the offer was worth anything in general, not against an unknown foe and with his lack of magical experience.

Golden eyes wandered away from the sobering sight of confused officials and landed on the bulky package in Ruria's lap. "Were you shopping this morning, Ruria? How his mother and sister loved to drag him shopping to carry bags! "Have you more shopping to do? I could keep you company if you like... I dislike the idea of letting you wander off alone after last night. I dislike the idea of me wandering off alone after last night." And wandering alone would allow him far too much time to think.

A brow rose and amused champagne eyes followed the now-clacking skull. "Never fear, sir," Azra'iel's tone was droll; " I do not think I could replace your... unctuous self." Endless repetition had Azra'iel rising mere moments after Ruria had moved to do so herself; easily strolling forward as she did, the angle of his arm automatically adjusting at the light touch of her hand. Laughter danced in his eyes at her antics; she was obviously as socially trained as he.

"But of course, m'lady, the relic shop it is." Looking down into bright ruby eyes, the young man offered a hint of a grin in response to her own. "And of course, a true gentleman would have relieved the lady of her burden as well." He offered his free hand to take her bag, not wanting to just snatch it away from her if contained something delicate she preferred carrying herself. He had learned, the hard way, that, with his fellow witches, this was a foolish move. "I hail from Moonfall, originally, and must admit, am rather enjoying the more relaxed pace of life here. Where did Makai draw you away from, Ruria?" Small talk had never been his forte, but he felt he was stumbling through well enough.

Though he could not keep his eyes from scanning their surroundings as they moved back toward the Square.

Azra'iel frowned at the streets, listening to Ruria and her companions, absently placing his free hand over hers on his arm when he felt Ruria's grip tighten. His parents had stopped plotting to arrange a marriage for him once his magic had revealed itself; he was forever thankful for that. Honestly, his mother had been devastated: but, his father had convinced her his life-path was forever altered and he may be called to serve the Royal family or the Reapers and he could not be tied to Moonfall... well, he did not recall the full argument, he was just grateful for his father's ability to placate his mother.

"I... traveled a bit as well; I have been to Clarus Arbor, but do not remember much other than the quiet. My father is a very minor noble, but he married 'below' himself and took over my maternal grandfather's trading company." He gave an off-hand chuckle. "Perhaps our fathers did business at some point."

Azra'iel restrained a reaction to the sullen tone of her voice in regards to her affianced. He suspected a laugh would not go over well... and the girl had at least partial command over some rather vicious skulls. He looked up at the shop front Ruria had slowed before and blinked in bemusement. 'Wompee's Graveyard Relics' He was aware she had powers over dark magics, he should not be surprised by her choice of shops. Nonetheless, he was entertained.

"I cannot say I have been to this particular shop before;" he stepped up and pulled the door open, gently disengaging Ruria's hand from his arm. "After you, milady."

Calmly brushing a stray leaf from his shoulder, Azra'iel strode into the ballroom; admiring the spacious room and amused at seeing vaguely-familiar-looking classmates decked out in their costumes and finery. Running a hand through his wind-blown hair, he scanned the crowd for Ruria. At some point during their time together shopping the previous day, his date had mentioned the purchase of a dress and Azra'iel realized he had not even considered a costume or clothing more formal than his Makai uniform. So after helping her back to the inn with her purchases, he rushed off to the office of the courtier his father commonly used to send a rushed request home for more formal clothing. The fact that he also escaped the abusive banter of Biter and Bitter was ...inconsequential. Really.

His clothing had arrived early that afternoon with a scathing note from his mother inquiring about the ball and his date. It was amazing, really. She had been so busy when he was younger between the family businesses and Moonfall society. Now that he was 'of age' she took great pains to forcefully insert herself into his social life. Which was a joke because he did not have one. But he had a female accompanying him to the Hallows Ball and he had not informed his mother. This was a grievous sin and he was not to soon forget it. Azra'iel rolled his eyes. He would have to write his father and beg a gift suggestion or something to distract his mother from, well, himself.

But all of that aside, he was safely at the ball, wearing what was secretly his favorite formal outfit; a modified frock coat that transitioned from a deep brown, almost black at his shoulders to a warmer brown at the ends of the sleeves and skirting and lined in a deep burnt orange. Decorative embroidery that trimmed the sleeves and skirt was gold and cream, and he wore it fastened over a variegated autumn-toned vest, cream shirt, and black pants. He had bought one new item for the ball, a cravat in brighter oranges and reds than his more subdued vest. He personally thought it far more fun than a tuxedo for a formal costume ball. And since he had to wear it, he might as well enjoy it.

Seeing the distinctive pink locks of Ruria down on the floor almost directly in front of him, waving to someone just out of his sight, Azra'iel moved further into the room and came up behind her. She wore a simple white dress, or at least far less complicated than most that were in the room and it stood out elegantly because of the simplicity. Laying a light hand across the small of her back he leaned in slightly to be heard over the music and general din of the room without raising his voice.

"Good evening, Miss Ruria," amusement at himself gleamed in his eyes as the overly-practiced words flowed from his mouth; "You look absolutely stunning. I apologize for not thinking to make plans to meet you so we could arrive together."

Thankfully, he had not yet seen Rosel. Or not thankfully? She intimidated him, but for some reason he could not help but try to ...spark her temper.

Blinking a bit in surprise, Azra'iel found himself looking at the back of Ruria's head as she spoke of a teacher he had heard much about but not yet studied with. Was he too formal? No, he simply could not see it. That was the proper way to greet a date or dance partner or... alright, perhaps he was a bit stuffy at times. He would consider working on it at some point. He did not really interact with enough of his fellow students for it to matter and now was not the time to think on it.

Amused by Ruria's observation, his low chuckle melded with hers. "You are quite right, I believe this is the first time I have had the pleasure of speaking with my date before an event as well." He had noticed other couples gearing up to brave the rather sparsely populated dance floor and smiled almost shyly, turning to offer a hand, palm up, to his companion. "Since we have gone entirely backwards, speaking before dancing, shall we make up for it now? Or do you prefer to seek conversation or refreshment?" He had to ask, there was an entire table of beautiful confections.

While waiting for a reply, golden eyes darted around the room before focusing again on the girl before them; a feeling of being watched was ever-present. What he could only assume were Reaper forces were stationed periodically about the perimeter of the room and the dais reserved for the Royals was nearly empty. How...odd. From what he had heard, this was generally a highly-favored event.

The young man wondered if trouble was expected or if precautionary measures were being taken to ensure safety. Both options kind of put a damper on the celebratory spirit!

Dread filled Azra'iel the moment the lights went out and his hand immediately went to his hip, in hopes of the reassurance of his absent-sword hilt. He watched, hand clasping the air next to him, almost numb, as a fellow student he had run into in the library was attacked and tossed aside like a doll. When the ...was he a Reaper? A Black Heart? Either way, the man calling for assistance made his heart ache to join the battle, but he resisted, knowing his youth made him more hindrance than help.

Ruria's words repeated in Azra'iel's head as the battle raged around them. He did not want to run, but he knew neither of them stood much of a chance in the fray. He was not even certain he could successfully protect himself or his date if it became necessary!

As her hand tightened on his, he gently pulled Ruria closer against his body so he could more easily cover her if trouble approached. Backing away from the action, he muttered more to himself than to her. "Of course you wish to stay... I am not certain we have a the option of leaving anyhow: we cannot get to the door." He took in as much of the light around them as he could, hoping a barrier might offer them some protection.

A stray spell sent stone or wood flying in their direction, nicking Azra'iel's cheek; but the witchling stood transfixed watching the battle, his arms loosely circling Ruria. The flashes of the Black Heart's blade mesmerized the young man and the flails of the mysterious Reaper in charge of the situation fascinated him. When the headmistress he had yet to have class with moved in to protect another student, Azra'iel swore his heart froze in his chest. Even from across the room he could feel the Sage's power. He was still recovering from it as the corrupt Reaper fell.

Golden eyes cleared slightly from their fear-laced daze and moved down to the pink-haired girl still in his arms. He knew they should move or leave or, well neither of them were healers, they could not help here, but... "Are---are you alright, Ruria?" The residual magic swirling through the room was oppressive, making Azra'iel feel tired and slightly disoriented.

Well, at least I was on my way out of Moonfall, so Mother will not be worried for me just yet...but what a way to end my first trip home since graduating.

Azra'iel flinched, narrowing golden eyes as he quietly emerged from the back of the carriage he had just recently awoken in. Unlike the shapes around him, he had been propped in a corner and nearly upright, so his extremities were not nearly as numb as they could have been. He had received a bit of a shock from his bindings when his first response had been to summon a soft glow of light, informing him that his captors were quite serious; then, as the ringing in his ears had cleared, he heard the mumblings around him about a 'field trip' to Poena Privus.

The young witch could not help but glance around almost curiously: he had no inclination to join the Reapers but his love of knowledge could not help but prompt him to see all he could in what would likely be a once-in-a-lifetime... 'visit' to the secretive castle. He could easily see over the heads of most of the other captives, so continued forward toward the center of the group of mostly witchlings. He was surprised to see some older, familiar faces, but thankfully no one he knew well. Not that he would want to see anyone in this situation... the perpetual frown that had been lingering on his face since he woke deepened, hardening his features. What could the Blackhearts want with this ragtag group of nearly untrained witchlings?

Well. He was human, purely human and to his knowledge, had no dealings with Majin. Even if he had, he had never been involved in underhanded dealings of any sort! So while Azra'iel was at a loss as to what the Reapers' organization had taken him for, they had no right to keep him---but with the rough handling thus far and constant shushing, maintaining silence and cooperating seemed the best course of action. For now. Any power and protection he had to offer might be needed later to help the younger ones.
Shuffling along slowly and as steadily as his bonds and the others crowded around him would allow, Azra'iel kept his head forward and slightly drooped as to appear still woozy from the spell that had captured them. But behind his swinging bangs, champagne eyes were alert and constantly on the move, observing everything he could see.

The castle was darkly stunning, haunting, and elegant. Thick rugs lined the stone floors, muffling the sounds of movement and halls branched off the one they traversed: the maze-like quality enhanced by the low lighting. It seemed that retaining memory of their route through the castle would be impossible, so he had almost immediately stopped trying. More interesting to the young witch were the faces of the other occupants they passed. A majority of them revealed confusion, some even appeared alarmed as the captives passed...how strange. So knowledge of this kidnapping mission was not wide-spread? That was ...discouraging.

Azra'iel was careful to avoid making eye contact with anyone throughout their trek. But he could not help baulking at the sight of the cell they were being ushered into. It was not so much a surprise, of course they were going to be contained; but as a being connected to light, the dungeon they were being held in had him completely on edge and it was harder to appear compliant. The witch slowed, unconsciously trying to stall the inevitable. Narrowed eyes whipped to their captors, resting on the dragon mononoke who was rather menacingly blocking the only exit. He had not meant to make his full awareness known, but as he reluctantly dragged himself into the cell, Azra'iel was relatively certain the Blackheart was aware of his glare.
As soon as the last of the kidnappers had wandered up the stairs after locking the group in, Azra'iel straightened and shuffled as quickly as he could to where the cage met the wall. He needed to get a better look at the charms plastered around the room! The light levels were low, but even without good light, he could tell they were to prevent the use of magic: what he really needed to see was the rune used---aha, that one would seal the room, yes, but not entirely. He reached tentatively into the soul of his power and was able to draw it forward, albeit sluggishly. Satisfied that he had access and even some control over his magic, he returned his attention to the huddled group near the door of the cage.

But before he could move back in toward the group, a tentatively raised and fleetingly-familiar voice rang out, trying to rally them. Raising a brow, the light witch tried to make out who was speaking. Seeing it was one of the other captured witches and vaguely recognizing her, his keen eyes narrowed, digging for her name to come to mind.

'Cedar. That was her name; I attended a training session with her while back'

Moving cautiously forward to be back in the midst of the group, he spoke up loud enough for his voice to reach all, but hopefully not ricochet up the stairwell to their rather loud captors.

"No solid ideas just yet, Miss Cedar, and before we discuss any... is anyone hurt or still feeling effects from being held unconscious so long?" He looked around, face still stern and set with a slight frown, attempting to make eye contact with everyone. "If not, I think our first order of business should be removing the restraints, if we can. They are not inherently magical or blocking our magic themselves; that is the seals spaced about the room. But even those should not fully block your powers if you reach for them slowly and do not try anything ...foolish."

Focusing above the heads of the group, Azra'iel felt sweat break out on his forehead as he coaxed a small sphere of light to form so they could all see a bit better, at least. It was difficult without having his hand available as a focal point but he was doing it none-the-less. Though, he was panting and slightly nauseous from the effort.

'Interesting. I was not aware I could do that.' He gave a pragmatic mental shrug as he tried to collect himself. 'Desperate times and all that, I suppose.'
Glad to see those who could starting to help others loose their bonds, the blonde set to work on his own restraints. He had not been able to break through any part of them, but they had loosened a bit and tempted the young swordsman to test his flexibility. Bracing his shoulders against the bars, Azra'iel was able to slide down enough to get his hips through his arms. Slowly, feeling a strain in his shoulders, he slid down further. Now that he was sitting on the floor, he pulled his knees to his chest and was able to draw his legs through the loop of his arms: so that while his hands remained bound, they were now in front of him. Throughout this maneuver, Azra'iel was facing away from the stairs. Standing and stretching, his guardian-like nature had him unconsciously watching over the other captives as he massaged his wrists to restore circulation to his hands ...when out of no where, the most entrancing voice he had ever heard sent a warm thrill down his spine. His head whipped around, seeing the reassuringly-empty stairwell was now full of Black Hearts and Reapers, led by a sinfully beautiful creature. How had he not heard them? He had only a moment to curse himself for feeling secure in their solitude before the power of that voice pulled at him. Most of him wanted to sink into that voice, to do as it asked so it would continue speaking to him---but his flippant nature would apparently not be denied.

Feeling cornered and somehow rude, he turned to fully face the speaker. Etiquette always second-nature to him, he bowed to the regal woman; sheepishly aware of his altered bond as he opened his mouth to obey and give his name: but that was not what escaped his lips.

"Forgive me, milady, but if you are aware of such grave danger to our persons, how is it you do not already know our identities? Surely, whatever warned you of this danger would have informed you of whom you were ...gathering to protect.

Golden eyes shot wide as he listened to himself speak. Terribly embarrassed, but unable to take back words he had not planned to say, Azra'iel shifted his weight, warily. He was not in a position to provoke anyone! What on earth had come over him?
At the simpering words of the vision before him, Azra'iel felt a growing, all-encompassing panic at the idea of displeasing her. But at the same time, something else was urging him to move away from the edge of the cage. He did so, backing away from the bars slowly, as Runa stroked the cheek of the green-haired boy next to him; still feeling as though his body was obeying the command of someone else.

Once he was a bit further from the aura of power the woman was exuding, the young witch suddenly felt the reassuring brush in his mind that he had come to associate with his partially-summoned familiar. Mentally reaching to draw her forward where he could use her power, Azra'iel was surprised at how faint her spirit felt.

'Shad'ya?'

There was, for once, silence. Usually, Shad'ya was somewhat obnoxious, taunting the young witch for mishandling situations. But currently, he could barely feel her presence and even what was there was fading fast. Before the spirit of his familiar disappeared entirely, he heard her words tickle his mind like a near-forgotten memory.

'Be on your guard, Azra'iel. The wards there are strong... I do not have the power to assist you again.'

Then the fleeting whisper of her touch was gone. He was on his own, now.

Wary champagne eyes refocused and watched the mysterious woman outside the bars speaking of freeing the captives, of the ball he longer to forget, and an infection she did not much elaborate upon. One of the others, a nearby witching girl standing somewhat protectively in front of what appeared to be a skunk mononoke, spoke softly, offering her name and the green-haired boy Azra'iel had moved away from appeared completely entranced by Runa's touch.

Surprised to find his back against the wall, the light witch took a deep breath. Well. Shad'ya had done what she could for him, so he lingered as far back as the cage would allow, determined to keep to himself and listen as long as possible. He somehow doubted it would be very long.
He could almost feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. That statement was ominous; all parts of it.

Azra'iel was not sure what to believe.

He did not trust this woman; the famed, mystery-shrouded leader of the Reaper Organization, and did not wish to believe her words...but she injected enough truths to make any lies she wanted to add palatable. He had been at the ball she spoke of before leaving school; had been feet away from the battle and it remained one of the most horrifying things he had ever seen. His friend and date for the evening, Ruria, had been so inspired by the events she had gone on to pass her Grave of Fairies trial shortly thereafter to pursue training as a Reaper. Azra'iel had not been so certain that that was the direction to take then and he certainly would not wish to take it now. He had been unsure what direction to continue his training and had just been stumbling along to help his poor familiar manifest. But after this? Being kidnapped, shackled, and now possibly to be "cured" all against his will? Perhaps the Cerberus Knights were right to keep an eye on these so-called protectors, and perhaps that was where he could feel at home. If he survived this ordeal intact, anyway.

Ironic that the beauty before him should speak of rabid tigers. The light witch rather felt that was how she herself ought to be handled; with all the respect he could muster and even more caution. A name, she had asked for a simple name, and he could probably give her that without too much repercussion. Perhaps he could word his statement well enough to get at least a bit more information on their fates in return; or at the very least draw more attention himself so that the more outspoken of their little band would not suffer anything just yet. The light in the room was meager at best and the wards quite strong, but he drew as much of that light energy into himself as he could, knowing his eyes would now glow golden from the shadow he had taken refuge in. But it was all he could think to do. Almost everyone in the room was more powerful than he was at full-strength, but having the security of a tiny bit of power to tap into was reassuring; considering he felt what he was about to do was terribly reckless.

"Please, ah..." Azra'iel cleared his throat nervously, "Please forgive my earlier abruptness, madam. It has been a rather trying few hours for us and perhaps fear of the unknown has us lashing out unnecessarily. My name is Azra'iel Einar," if he was going be brash, might as well go for broke...perhaps she would have reason to remember his name some day. With an internal, sardonic, and self-directed smirk, he continued slowly. "You mentioned possibly releasing us? If I may be so bold, where are we going now? Somewhere to quarantine this...infection?"

/blushes slightly and tries to not stare or anything/ Ru. Ree. Ah. You are... this is... not appropriate

/closes eyes and looks slightly pained...and holds rather still/ It is ...kind of you to be so generous in giving comfort.

yes Ruria, that is the hilt of my sword. You kind of dragged me into your arms at an awkward angle. /drops voice/ You would prefer it be something else, milady?

/turns his head enough to side to n** exposed flesh and breaks Ruria's light hold; standing, easily straddling her RATHER ERSTWHILE leg/ Hmmm, pudding? You taste sweet enough to earn that distinction. /smirks slightly, leaning down in to be nose to nose/ I am not sure I have anything to offer with a sweet taste. Perhaps it is best you search elsewhere

/smirk widens to a full grin as he presses in a little closer/ Why am I so close? Why are you still holding on?

/stands to his full height and supports Ruria with light hands behind her shoulder blades as he moves back slowly to lean against a wall/ I suppose that is not a sword... /looks amused as he traces long fingers down along her sides to squeeze lightly at her hips/ So as I do not believe I am fighting back, pray, tell me how you have determined whether you have won or lost, Ruria~ is it a competition of blushes? If so, I must warn you... I am done blushing milady, you escalated this ...competition.

/chuckles softly at the feel of her tongue but restrains any additional reaction/ You are quite the troublesome little minx. /traces light patterns along the top of her thighs/

/swallows hard, suppressing a groan and sets his jaw, swiftly flipping their positions and pressing Ruria higher against the wall to restrict movement: one hand protecting her head, the other retrieving her... exploring hand; mouth at her ear, lips brushing against the lobe as he speaks/ You play as dangerously as you fight, little one.

/notes her slight relaxation and breathes a soft chuckle against her ear... as he pins her wrists above her head and twists out of her legs/ Nothing, you minx. /offers a smouldering grin and tightens his one-handed grip on her wrists...before striding [admittedly uncomfortably] away/
/lifts a hand in a causal wave without turning... and smirks to himself as he continues walking/

/staggers slightly, compensating for the sudden weight and growls under his breath as his breathing is slightly restricted, muttering/I am not certain 'dead' is the correct word. /twisting his arms free and reaches for Ruria's ribs to see if she is ticklish/

/raises a brow and matches her grin, taking advantage of the slight loosening of her legs needed for her to lean over his head to flip her over flat on her back/ This would not be my first rodeo, Ruria. /golden eyes narrow slightly, glittering with amusement/ But I do not really think I am the one you want to play with, hmm? /attempts to coyly flutter his lashes ...but laughter can clearly be heard in his voice/ I do not wish to be a toy for your convenience, madam.

/raises the other brow and pokes Ruria in the nose/ I have no informant, I simply had not gotten the previous impression that you ...felt I deserved such attention. I am game, Ruria, it is not wrong. I apologize for making such an assumption /quirks a smile and playfully flips a pigtail back over her shoulder/

/carefully maintains a straight face/ Well. Terrible things. We would not want terrible things to happen, would we?

/blinks, mouth opening then snapping shut as he sits back on his heels and laughs under his breath/ Minx.

/stands slowly and glances down, still amused/ I suppose it is not. And I suppose I did. /grins and moves close enough to force Ruria to look up, but not touching her/ Your point?

/grins unrepentantly, almost boyish for a moment/ Light creates shadow. /breaks eye contact, still grinning, and scratches the back of his neck/ More revenge than a man-boner, hmm? I will have to make sure I at least try to be ready. I am not certain anyone could truly be ready for you though! /winks and starts to move away/