[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/WIA4zqR.gif[/img][/center]
[color=ec008c][h2][center]New York City[/center][/h2][/color]
[color=ec008c][h3][center]Demonic Whispers[/center][/h3][/color]

Accounting for the changes, it was safe to say that the thought of normalcy was a concept Milo had left behind when he stepped onto the train for New York a few days back. It was true what they said about the big city, about its highly supernatural underground community. Perhaps [i]community[/i] was the wrong word to use in describing New York's denizens of darkness, but as it was, Milo found himself within their world only days after arriving. Darkness calls to those it would like to claim, as it was. Tracing his fingers over the barely visible marks scratched into the wall, the boy found himself asking the question of [i]why[/i] in a repeated fashion. 

The constant dripping of a leaking pipe added to an eerie atmosphere made thicker by a heavy scent fogging the long since abandoned subway. It was safe to say that no one in their right mind frequented such a location, other than the homeless and those of less savory ilk. As it was, Milo was in short supply of decent spots to sleep, thus an old, abandoned subway fit the criteria. It was quiet, empty and most of all, it was somewhat safe. In the future, one could consider erecting a hideout in one of the distant corners of this underworld. Perhaps [i]safe[/i] was misplaced, however. Indeed, it was safe from the mundane world but one should not toss aside the darkness of New York so casually. Beneath the tumbling city above, beneath the heavily trampled ground resided denizens Lost Haven could only dream of. 

One such path to the abyss was carved into the stone wall. Milo ran his thin fingers over the markings, feeling the etched surface against his skin as it was barely visible to one's eyes. This was the third such etching he had come across so far. What did it mean? It could have been nothing but a boy's imagination, though Milo felt more than a little uncomfortable in the presence of these carvings. It was what brought him towards them, what lured him from the bench he called a bed for the past few days. Indeed, there was a story behind these symbols but where did it lead, how did it sound when words reached a person's lips? Turning to the more experienced individual in the duo, Milo found himself indulging in Masamune's wisdom more than once throughout his search. [color=00aeef]"Looks like cult symbols."[/color] Shedding light on the mystery at hand, Masamune shared what he knew but it was a stretch to assume his knowledge on the mystery so early on. 

[color=ec008c]"So then these might be wards..."[/color] Milo continued, his assumption holding merit within the odd sensation running through his body upon coming in contact with the symbol. Though faint and old, the energy within remained a remnant of ancient magic, be it drained and weak at this point. 

[color=00aeef]"Well done, Milo! There's some wits in the noggin' of yours after all."[/color] A loud chuckle filled the boys head, earning Masamune a sigh and roll of Milo's eyes. The blade was a tease to say the least, its witty remarks often at the expense of its master. Though, Milo didn't mind much as the lighthearted personality accompanying him on his travels shed some light on an otherwise dark situation. [color=00aeef]"This means that the little cult following should be close by. You know, if they haven't packed up and left."[/color]

[color=ec008c]"Worth a look..."[/color] The boy finished, following the stone wall as he continued through the dark tunnel. Would this subway still be in use, many trains would come and ago across the rusty rails but as it was, one could traverse the ruined path without such obstacles. The heavy atmosphere and dust particles freely flowing through the damp air made it rather difficult to breathe as Milo delved deeper into the darkness but the occasional light bulb, though flickering and dim, allowed for limited vision.

[color=00aeef]"So, how do you like New York so far, kid?"[/color] One could argue that this was no time for casual conversations, though Masamune had proven such assumptions wrong time and time again. 

[color=ec008c]"Big..."[/color] Larger than Lost Haven, Milo had never been much for enormous cities. The people, the stirring, the endless days, it was like living in constant rush hour. Of course, some parts of the city had their charm but Milo didn't come to take in the sights. Ten minutes turned to thirty and Milo found himself deeper into the darkness, the air growing heavier with each step. It would be foolish to dismiss the continued feeling of eerie discomfort accompanying the darkness, though at this point it was safe to assume magical intervention.

Something was stirring in the dark, something which could never reach the surface lest many lives be lost in its wake. Indeed, Masamune made sure to warn Milo of the dangers ahead, but it didn't hinder the boy's progress. He had come to New York to combat these beings, the denizens of the dark, and something did indeed stir within the confines of this underworld. Like ominous whispers, Milo found himself drawn deeper into the abyss in an attempt to uncover the veil to see what resided below.