[center][h2][color=92278f]The House of Death[/color][/h2][/center]
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[indent]After Ren walked away to study the gems with Gabriel, Devlin stood quietly watching the gathering group until the orc managed to destroy the stone door with a single strike. The ensuing rumble of the ground was like a call of prophesied doom from the underworld, and yet the following gust of icy wind somehow pleasured her. As the chill sent goose bumps over her skin, she closed her eyes while her nostrils flared to inhale a lungful of the stale, frigid air. It was pleasant; the ominous essence of events relaxed her as the electric sutures faded from her lips.   

She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the moment until Jack announced his theatrical question. But she was feeling no need to rush, she was used to working alone and was sceptical on just how efficiently a mottled group like this would perform, especially if the coming endeavor required the need for discretion. Subtle tact had already been forsaken. With reticent acumen as her only remaining ally, she secured the grip on her sword while awaiting the others to first proceed into the house of death.[/indent]