[center][h3][color=skyblue]இ [/color][color=#7BCDC8][i]ℭ [/i][/color][color=#57A3C6]h a r l e s[/color] [color=#4E99C6][i]Λ [/i][/color][color=#3F88C6]e o n[/color][color=skyblue] இ[/color][/h3] [sub][h3][u][b]Time[/b][/u][/h3][h3]Arc 2, Day 1~ Afternoon[/h3][h3][u][b]Location[/b][/u][/h3][h3] Charles’ home, Ominar [/h3][/sub][/center] [hr] [i] As night swallowed the dim lamplight, lengthy shadows flickered across the alley’s walls. Their distorted shapes fleshed out the bleak atmosphere, empowering it. The rain heavy clouds collected overhead to release their burden. A low, rumbling resonated through the air before icy drops tumbled down. They drenched the streets in blinding sheets. When lightning streaked across the skies, it illuminating a lone figure. Then it died in a sudden earsplitting crack. Charles Aeon. His outline was blurred, rain tracing it in its path to the ground. Numbness sliced past his thin coat into his skin. The sensation replaced the chill. His frame was pinned into place like a silently screaming moth trapped within a display case. Two years… It had taken him two years to find them. Now the hidden fury broke his deadpan expression, contorting it into an ominous one. His eyes bore into the apartment constructing the alley’s end. Yellow light spilled across the gloom, alongside the sounds of laughter and music. Obvious signs of life despite its deteriorating state caused Charles' gaze to tighten in disgust. Her murderers were inside without a care in the world. Their crimes stained their hands, but they still walked free. Even while her body rotted in the ground, defiled and her memory left to haunt him. Guilt shredded his heart into a festering wound, an infectious need for retribution. Reaching his patience’s limit, Charles took a step forward. Water sloshed from his path as his vision’s edges became red. The anger started low and built, it began to devour the settled chill. Charles’ hand rose from his side. Vis glowed then shot along his ostium, his fingers grasped the solidified sword’s handle. She shouldn’t have died... Regret hammered the words into his head like a fact punctured into his skull. Each time they claimed fact but failed to change reality. His grip tightened until his knuckles became white. Tunnel vision began to take hold causing the edges to blacken. Yet Charles refused to yield to the fever consuming him as his free hand reached for the door.[/i] [hr] The memory faded as expected. Charles filed it away in the recesses of his exhausted mind, swallowed by his sorrow and shame. Cautiously, his youthful eyes opened to the present. A defeated ambiance bled through the weathered irises, burdened by his failure. It hadn’t occurred to him how much the years had dulled the pain. At least, until now. The bile in his throat soured his tongue and threatened to push past his pressed lips. Casually his eyes turned to his hand. A metallic bead reformed within his palm, hardening once more. It looked innocent and harmless. Silently, he knew it was far from the truth. The professor’s free hand reached for the ivory jewelry box. Lifting the lid, he gently set the small bead down among its fellows. He closed it with a soft thud. Unseen gears whirred and clicked, causing it to lock. Gripping both sides, he relocated the box onto a pile of newspaper clippings. Each was yellowed by several years and the edges worn by constant handling. Memoirs of his actions, but Charles was never officially connected to them. As he stood, his chair slid out from under him. He had wasted enough time and energy dwelling on this. From the corner of his eye, a mirror’s reflection caught his attention. Casually, his head turned to absorb the image. It took a few moments to recognize the haggard individual in it. Himself. He blinked at the uncharacteristic change in his appearance. His usual stoic mask replaced by a dispirited demeanor, embellished by symptoms of fatigue. Positive proof the man’s desperation had cost him several restful nights. He was forced to admit he was no closer to understanding the problem now than he was then. The very memory he had relieved always cut off at the same critical point. Like someone had snip an important scene from an old film reel. If not for the fact it made his stomach churn, he would’ve let it rest. Charles wasn’t immune to sentiment, either from a loss or gain. To expect himself not to fall to the follies of pain was unrealistic. This truth about himself caused him avoid it whenever he could. A flaw in his own nature. A kettle’s whistle sounded off drawing his attention to it. He accepted the distraction, noticing his water was finished boiling. It was better than wallowing in his own thoughts at this point. Charles forced himself to approach the stovetop. In a well-practiced movement, more automatic than planned, his hand twisted the knob. The flame died instantly. He then placed the kettle on a nearby trivet. As the steam wafted off the spout, he turned to the cupboard. Withdrawing a cup and tea bag, Grey Earl, he prepared it to his liking. When finished, Charles then rested his hips against the counter’s edge. His hand held the cup to linger underneath his nose, the heavy aromatic scent savored. It provided a departure to his situation as his face marginally softened. Hopefully, today would be uneventful. [center][h3][color=PaleVioletRed]♪♫ Lily Quarin ♫♪[/color][/h3] [sub][h3][u][b]Time[/b][/u][/h3][h3]Arc 2, Day 1-Night[/h3][h3][u][b]Location[/b][/u][/h3][h3] One Night in Hell (Nightclub section), Entertainment District in Ominar [/h3][/sub][/center] [center][sub] Club tracks for scene: [url=https://youtu.Be/X46t8ZFqUB4]I Want You to Know - Zedd and Selena Gomez[/url] [/sub][/center] [hr] A familiar, feminine chuckle found amusement in Marcus’ offer. The sound erupted near enough his ear that the man could’ve sworn it came from right beside him, but the moment he looked he would find no one. Unfazed by the fact it disrupted nature’s law, the voice went on to playfully chide the man’s ambition. [color=PaleVioletRed] “Aren’t you going to be in hot water with the owner for already being late? Then again, you don’t strike me as the type to mind it. Especially for a pretty woman.”[/color] The line behind Corinna parted, revealing the voice’s owner. Someone she had already met upon her visit to Victorious Secret. Lily Quarin sauntered closer as she materialized from the crowd. Her obvious confidence and curiosity powered every step. She subtly rolled her hips causing a few eyes to turn and stare in her wake. Noticing it, the woman’s smirk deepened. Her right hand idly twisted a stray strand of hair about her finger. She was careful not to ruin the braided ‘crown’ that started from the front edges and swung to the back. The loose leftover curls cascading down underneath, bouncing slightly along her shoulders. Her outfit’s main design sported a wine red colored body suit literally tracing her curves. A false coat tail fell to about ankle length and skirted behind, playfully chasing her. A wide plunging v-neck laced up across her bust, exposing a comfortable amount of cleavage. The flesh on her legs goosebumped in the chilly night air thanks to the open, short-like front. Just heading back from her break, her heterochromia eyes flipped from one to the other. She mentally sized them both up. Mischief glinted in her irises before Lily’s arms crossed under her bosom, slacking into a comfortable posture. [color=PaleVioletRed] “A very pretty dress, Ms. the vibe is so different from what I first type saw you in.”[/color]