[b]Nestor Grimsley – Demonspawn[/b]

As the others begin to filter in, Nestor gradually seems to rouse himself a bit; a wrinkling of one nostril leads his eyes toward the stationary form of the golem a little ways off – catching a bit of the scent of smoke on the cool evening air, he lurches up to his feet and steps gingerly over the grass toward the hulking creature. He does not speak at first, rather, simply stands a little ways off, eyes on the silhouette of the swiftly fading horizon. After a time, his eyes tilting sideways toward the golem, he remarks quietly:

“Strange – I did not know your kind to take to such things.” Here he pauses, wets his lips – casts another furtive glance out toward the distance; the cold seems to trouble him little, despite the incessant wind tugging at the thin excuse for cloth of his checkered hospital gown. He does not speak again at once, though in the space between you might notice a sudden chilling of the air around him – perhaps nothing to bother a golem, if you even truly know what cold or warmth would seem to a human – a soft sigh of cold winter wind that whispers behind you, words spoken in the keen, icy tones of something inhumanely feminine:

“What our Dear Nestor means to add, I should think – to cut things right down to the goddamn chase – is that he'd like a smoke, and you've got one, but he's too damn stuck-up-the-ass to say it outright.” The words are followed by a subtle roll of the eyes on the Demonspawn's part, a shimmering of the air following in their wake, the icy-hard form of what might appear to be an ice demoness flickering into view on the Golem's opposite side. No mere vision only, but a real, solid construct – or appearing as much.

“Well, yes – now that it's out in the open, I suppose I shouldn't mind one, if you've got it to spare. The last few days have been... hmm... well – difficult...” He trails off into silence, plucking absently at a crease in his rather ignominious attire, before suddenly looking up again and offering a slender hand in the Golem's direction while exclaiming “Ahh, and my apologies – Nestor, Nestor Grimsley; I will refer to you as 'Golem who Smokes', unless you have a more appropriate name mayhap?”

[b]Adam – Golem[/b]
Turning only his eyes, Adam watched the other B&H employee come nearer. The golem recognized the other by sight, but never had he officially met, only silently catalogued in distant golem fashion. Where others might have found an approach followed by a stretch of silence uncomfortably awkward, Adam simply waited. None could wait as patiently as he, and he imagined the other would not have closed the distance without reason. At the golem’s lips, the ember burned a bit brighter; the ashy tip grew. Adam breathed grey smoke out to the side slowly. Waiting.

Then the other spoke. Adam took his time to phrase a reply, as was his wont. Such things, the one before him had said. Was Adam a Such Thing? He supposed he was, in fact. 

The change in temperature was barely noticed by the Golem, not on a conscious level at least. Cold, warm, clothed, naked, it was all nearly the same to Adam, subtle differences. He often had to take the cue how to react from the blood and flesh beings, and this hospital-gowned-one was not giving him the impression of frigid air. The icy words from behind, though… Adam did detect those. His reaction was minimal. Merely a slight turn of his head, the cocking of a dark ear, his large hand lifting ponderously to remove the cigarette from his lips with thumb and fore. He blew slow smoke, processing. Supernatural antics in the midst of his crew was not unexpected, and Adam did not startle easily.

Adam listened. He took a moment to consider.

“Oh,” the golem answered at last, the one syllable seeming to vibrate through the ground with its tonal depth. Spoken as a casual acknowledgment, as if it was customary for the golem to receive explanation from frigid demonic beings in his ear. 

Adam’s shaded eyes crossed gradually back down to … Nestor, as the man had introduced himself. Adam regarded the outstretched hand for several seconds. Without hurry, the golem replaced his cigarette in his own mouth, then reached out, gripping and near mechanically shaking Nestor’s hand with obviously much-restrained strength -- the light touch was just shy of bone-crushing. Then he let go. He reclaimed a fresh white stick and lighter from his pocket and offered to the other.

“I am Adam,” said the golem simply. 

[b]Nestor Grimsely – Demonspawn[/b]

With a whispered breath the demoness' attention suddenly shifts, eyes locking upon the arrival of the elf and her entourage of invisible followers – invisible to the others, perhaps. But not to her, nor seemingly to Nestor, who turns himself and glances briefly; a glance preoccupied, and he takes only time enough to purse his lips in a moment's contemplation before returning his attention to the Golem.

The Demoness, however, has other plans; with a frenzied rush she swoops across the grass to stand directly in front of the Elf; bending down, she peers curiously at the woman, before beginning a slow, stalking walk in a circle about where she stands. Head canted, neck craned forward, eyes shifting to and fro – first to the Necromancer, then to one of the following ghosts, then back to the victim. Finally, only after drawing a long, slow breath and giving a viciously toothy smile does she speak:

“Now here is an interesting one, dear sweet thing... You smell Beau-ti-fuul. Positively gorgeous. Like.... death... but...” There is a pause here. The demoness stands fully erect, thrusts a finger into the air – as though expounding upon some point (though the importance thereof might be seemingly lost to anyone save her) – and glances sidewards at the newcomer before continuing “Different from the other girl – she isn't here yet. Not, not yet. But she will be. Oh yes! I can sense it. Do you see him, standing over there like the lummox that he is?” Here she seeks to gently lay one icy, clawed hand upon the Elven woman's shoulder – and, should she not attempt to slip away – coax her to look in the direction of Nestor and the Golem standing together a little ways off.

But, in the very moment of touching you, the sense of an inevitable death comes sweeping in – perhaps different, than in the past. Not one death, not a pair of deaths... no, rather an endless cycle of painful suffering, the crying and wailing of scores of lost souls – but the sound seems to come less from the demoness, and more toward the man to whom she points; and if you stare closely enough, no doubt you would begin to see his image morph and change on occasion. Now and then taking the look of some ghostly figure from time long past – human, inhuman, monstrous and otherwise alike... Straining to catch any individual death amongst the endless repetition seems to only further the chaos, and all in the moment that you think you might have seen -his-, his alone amongst... She releases her hold.

Steps back with a skip, gives an almost girlish giggle, covers her mouth with a hand and peers at you once more, as if gauging your response. Nestor, for his part, seems quite oblivious to it all.

[b]Anastasia – Necromancer[/b]

Anastasia stood still talking to her friends when she was interrupted by a visit of a strange women. Caught off guard she took a slight step back "Oh..uh...hello" she said giving her a nervous grin but she seemed to not even listen to it. She watched the women talk to her, then stand up using some sort of finger magic. Hesitant to move away she decided she wanted to stay, she watched the women play her tricks on her curious to see what would happen. " wh-what other girl?" she asked slightly confused by this whole situation. Directing her attention to the group of men she had just left she looked at the two strangers. She was about to look back to the women but was interrupted by weird visions of one man, were they even visions she wasn't sure what she was seeing. 

Her thoughts were immediately interrupted, the sounds of suffering an pain surfaced to her mind. She looked at the man she pointed at, Anastasia was used to pain and suffering it was not something she was unfamiliar with.Soaking in the cycles of pain she absorbed it into her body. She could see his image morphing and change slightly she wanted to take a step to investigate the weird images she was seeing more but then all of a sudden it stopped. She watched the girl skip back, seeing her eye her. What was that, what did she just see. Most importantly who was that man.

" No .. she is a friend.. i think. " 

She whispered..

" I'm fine" 

she got irritated now as she waved her hand in the ghosts form as it circled her. She walked over slowly to the group that the girl had just gone back to her eyes not leaving Nestor, she stopped right beside him her eyes not leaving him, and not saying anything. It seemed like almost five minutes before she finally said something " mmm...Hi.." she said giving him an odd grin before looking back at the women with a questionable glare. She looked at the other man with them and smiled at him aswell " Hi.." she nodded but looked back to the original man who she had spoke to first. 

[b]Nestor Grimsely – Demonspawn[/b]

The Demonspawn does not at first appear to note Anastasia's quiet approach – rather, he remains standing a little ways off from the golem, lips pursed and seeming half-distracted with some all-important thought as he puffs away quietly on the Golem's gift (and, the astute observer might notice the occasional flexing of his right hand... perhaps still attempting to shake off the smart of the creature's mighty grip); it is not until the woman speaks that he seems to take notice of her presence. His change in demeanour is sudden – in one moment staring into blank space, in the next gaining a little life as he turns to face the Elfen creature. Tucking one arm behind his back, he offers a restrained bow by way of greeting, then remarks with a faint smile:

“Good evening, Miss; she tells me we are to refer to you as 'Death Girl' – this seems to me... unseemly... but I know who you are already” Here he pauses, raising a hand slightly – as if to forestall any question, denoting an explanation as he continues (and meantime the Demoness – after offering a disgruntled kind of grimace at his words, comes to stand a little ways behind him – fingers laced, arms behind her back, she occasionally gives the Necromancer furtive glances, but remains otherwise silent): “Though don't be alarmed! Nothing out of the ordinary; I simply had occasion to read a bit of your dossier in the company files, and found your particular occupational talents... intriguing, shall we say?”

As he speaks, you might notice a gradual change in Nestor's eyes – for though they appear at first a cold, almost lifeless grey, the colour in the irises gradually begins to change, morphing with ever shifting speed from one colour to the next: blue, hazel, brown, green – even pink, red – then back again to their normal hue; still, his features remain mostly unchanged, even if now and again you might pick out the faint shadow of what seems to be some other face overlapping his own, then fading moments before you can make up your mind. 

Turning, Nestor takes a moment to glance toward the Demoness – who meanwhile, it seems, has taken up a rather thorough inspection of the golem; hands still laced behind her back, she stalks slowly around him in faltering circles, pausing now and then to peer with childish curiosity at some aspect that seems to intrigue her – perhaps to remark “hmm....” or something equally inaudible beneath her frozen breath, but not as of yet actually saying anything.

Shaking his head, Nestor returns his attention to the Elf, finishing his thought:

“As it was, I have long been pondering a certain... hmm – difficulty, shall we say?-- of mine, and was delighted to find you here, as it may well be you could take me one step closer to eradicating the problem. If, of course, you are willing to help! It may well end up being quite dangerous – you may think on it, if you like. And ask anything you like – though I am sure we could have time to discuss the venture more when and if we have a chance after this little meeting; there are a few others I'll be needing as well.” 

[b]Anastasia – Necromancer[/b]

" death girl.." She thought for a moment as it brought a large smile to her lips " I have a nickname.. " the thought warmed her as she jumped for joy inside. Uncaring about the meaning the fact that someone knew about her before she even knew them made her warm inside. She was already liking this man, he bowed so politely and even gave her a nickname,,,, " I think he will be my new friend" she thought. Bringing herself to continue to listen to him the odd smile still plastered on her face. 

" intriguing ... Well that is a first time I've heard that I suppose... I'll take that as a compliment...wait the company has a file on me... " she looked off with a happy grin " oh that's exciting ! I wish I could see my own file... Oh ... Or perhaps not, I do believe ignorance is bliss... " she paused "hmm or maybe I should know what if there telling lies and someone is out to get me... "Realizing she was talking to herself again she tried the hide the fact hoping not the weird out her new friend. 

When she turned to look at him she was oddly taken aback by his ever changing face. This man was quite weird, she nodded to herself, " yes he will do well as a friend..." She thought as she cocked her head to the side getting lost in the Changing of his face and eye colour. She could hear words coming from his mouth but they seemed to go In audible in her mind. "Oh!" She bursted happily " you have lovely eyes, do they always change colours like that... And I think there is someone trying to escape from them but I can't be quite sure... " she started intensely without blinking for a few minutes. 

Pulling herself out of a fascinated trace she clued into what he had asked of her. " you" she said bluntly " want me to help?" She paused as a shocked looked appeared on her face. " I would be delighted to help in any way I can... It's not every day someone needs me" she smiled again at him " when do we start." She clapped her hands together holding the in front of her gripping them together tightly egar to hear his response. 

[b]Nestor Grimsley – Demonspawn[/b]

Seeming upon the verge of replying, Nestor halts awkwardly in seeming-mid thought; one hand creeps involuntarily toward his face as his head tilts a bit to the side. Finally, he manages:

“Change colours... Oh? Hmm, well, I don't know...” But his momentary confusion is eased in an instant when Atticus arrives with a (much needed) assortment of clothing; Nestor's face creases into a grin before, quite briefly, he manages a laugh. Shaking his head, he offers in response to the Demon's remark:

“Perhaps when idle conversation is more prudent, Master Atticus, I might manage to tell you the more interesting details of -this-...” With the word 'this' he plucks once at the gown, before stooping to scoop up the pile of clothes and turning back toward Anastasia and the Golem. The demoness, it seems, is nowhere to be seen – having discreetly vanished moments after Atticus' approach.

“If you would both excuse me... I, well, will return directly. As for you... Death Girl – as you do not seem to so much mind the name!-- I shall let you know; but until then, do not become too eager; it is Atticus that called us here after all, and there is really no telling what surprises might be in store for us before another quiet moment.”

“Insofar as malfunctions are concerned, Master Siren... well, I do believe mine were functioning just fine right up to the point some overzealous hospital staff decided they were defective.”

With that, the Demonspawn offers a grunt, before beating a hasty retreat to the further side of the hill – though not without stumbling across Veti, crouched in the shadows nearby; he seems upon the verge of speaking, though one glance at her tear-streaked face seems to choke the words right out of him. He falters a moment, before simply remarking:

“It does me well to see you, Mistress Veti; as they say – 'Where hopes linger, the heart falters not'...” But some ways behind him, after he has vanished from view, a frigid whisper adds:

“Yet when the weight of the heart becomes too great to bear, the strings will snap... one by one...”