[h1][center][b][color=FFD700]Ahmicqui[/color][/b][/center][/h1]
[center][h3][b][color=FFD700]Spring Valley Community Park[/color][/b][/h3][/center]
[hr]
The ageless creature listened silently to the resolve that the proud former head expressed. It was not something greeted by his usual casual joy or marred by a superficial smirk. All he did was receive and consider it. Only when Kitorai finished his last word did Ahmicqui nod solemnly, accepting it. [color=FFD700]“So that is how you have chosen to pass on.. What your cycle shall be.”[/color] He released a long breath, only for his smile to return before looking upwards to the skies. [color=FFD700]“Very well.. We shall see if you are worthy if the last of you can buy what you seek to gain.. But I cannot say I dislike those kind of people.”[/color] Ahmicqui stared Kitorai straight in the eyes.

[color=FFD700]“I shall not insult you by denying it, I’ve lived a bit longer than most.. Someone has to water these lands after all.”[/color] He said with a fond and loving smile. 

Ahmicqui turned his head towards the park proper, humming in contemplation before withdrawing the sunglasses from the pocket of his shirt. Obscuring his sickly amber eyes before raising a hand in parting, waving it behind him at Kitorai.[color=FFD700] “We shall speak another time.. I’ve been invited to play a bit with the boys.. Of course, you are welcome to join. You may just learn a little bit more.”[/color] Ahmicqui glanced over his shoulders to flash a grin at the aged mage lord before walking off.
[hr]
A quick stroll brought him to the part of the park that was becoming ever more of a mess. Collections of scrap littered all about from a ruined car. The bronze-skinned man reached down, casually weighing a head-sized heap of metal before closing his fist around it, squeezing and crushing it into a sphere with the same ease one would make a ball out of paper. It was not good to let things go to waste after all, even if it was as useless as metal.

Raising one hand to his head, teeth sank into flesh and that dark essence of life dripped from his hand. Shifting the metal ball to his bleeding hand, he permitted his blood, part of his essence to seep into the ball. Turning it into a vessel of his own being, an extension from it and lending it shape before it could fade.

So

		It

	Stirred

				Within

Ahmicqui could feel it, his other self calling out to him. A creature that he had never been able to name, yet their fates had been intertwined on the day of their birth. It was not something that was him, but it was also not something that was something else than him. In the end it was but a part of him, that proud owl. Or he was a part of it, the lines between them had long blurred, and perhaps its thoughts had bled into his own as even he could no longer tolerate the day. 

[color=FFD700]“We shall feed soon, the night is long and we must be patient.”[/color] He thought to themselves in something that could only be felt as extreme fondness. Even as he feels that hunger stir within him, but it was only natural. Owls feed on mice, and Ahmicqui feeds on humans, that is how it was meant to be. Their eyes moved towards the man who danced with anger like a known lover, and they knew what had to be done.

Even the sunglasses of this ageless duo could not obscure the sickly amber glow of their eyes, for what rested behind them were no longer the eyes of a man, but the eyes of an owl, a predator, a creature of the night. They called out to the Soul Dyed In Red and it would know to no longer be speaking to merely a singular being, but also not something that was distinctly multiple things. [color=FFD700]“Allow me to introduce you to a sport home to this land.. One practiced to this very day.”
[/color]

Form was everything, and thus they repeated the motions of it. Placing one leg back while stretching their arm with ball in hand behind them. Amber eyes focused and trained themselves on the shape of anger of Berserker. Hitting a servant as swift as this one was not an easy task, but it mattered little when one knew where it was going, as they could track Archer in more ways than just sight. Aiming not for where Berserker was, but aiming where he would be. 

The rush of air was felt only an instant later.

The ball had been released, cast with the strength of something beyond human at the shape of Anger that was Berserker. Cast with a speed surpassing that of a bullet, but it was not the physical that was the threat. Ahmicqui no longer saw a ball, but an owl soar through the night, a creature that hunted with a single strike in the dark, with swiftness befitting it. A strike not to tear at flesh, but at the spirit itself. To tear and rip it from the spirit of Berserker. Such was the bounty of an emissary of the underworld.

It was only then that Ahmicqui made itself known, laughing in a fiendishly playful way, more befitting of one who teased a friend by throwing a ball at them rather than a monster throwing a heap of death at someone. [color=FFD700]“I hope we do not intervene, I wanted to show a bit off for the red one.”[/color] Ahmicqui waved at the Red Archer as if greeting a friend.