Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by PapiTan
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~1430 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE


“Ahhhh, can you guys, like, hear me?” Sigrun’s voice drifted from her trademark stickers, this time cut into the shapes of Sanrio characters, fine script etched in shimmering ink on each one. “Okay, like, this job’s a little weird compared to normal. Like, the mayor’s lackey said we don’t usually run prevention like this, but Miss Death and like, even her grouchy old buddy said this might turn out pretty bad if we left it alone.”

Clearing her throat, the blonde continued.

“Anyways, like… the show venue is no big deal, but Celeste is a toooootal bad juju magnet. Creepy stuff follows her around like a bad odor. Last show had a few of her fellow models drop dead a few days later, which, like, is definitely a sign that she’s got some wispy fellas following her around.” Sigrun sighed, drumming pale blue, gingham-patterned nails on her desk. "Prevention might not be, like, totally possible, but if something starts to happen, there are way, way too many peeps at the show to sit back and wait. Like, first sign of trouble, definitely step in."

A pause and a chuckle.

"Also, like, enjoy the show? You guys can totally blend in, but I totes think that asking around about the stuff that's happened before can tip you off on stuff that might happen this time."

The venue loomed dozens of meters above the ground, glass windows reflecting a sunset sky streaked with thick painted clouds. It provided a serene image compared, but just behind the proverbial curtain, it was exactly the type of chaos that one expected from a fashion show.

Between frantic fixes and changes, the talk of the entire ordeal revolved around the potential merge between Jeunes Fleures and L'île aux fées following the engagement of their owners. It was, by and far, happy news. They came from money, but both had paved their way with their own styles–if they were to fully merge, it might be a sight to behold.

And yet, those whispers stopped when a particular pink-haired woman stepped in: the woman of the hour, as far as reapers were concerned. Eyes turned to her, a thick tension starting to muddle the air.

Celeste glanced away, brilliant blue eyes cast toward her feet for a moment. She gathered herself quickly enough, turning her head high again and moving through the crowd with deliberate steps to be fitted. It was admirable, if not for the evidently unseen individuals trailing after her. A teenage girl, too skinny and with hair cropped into an asymmetrical bob, a man in a suit following a few steps too close, a young child clutching a flower-shaped bag close to her chest–at least ten. Most didn't look out of place in Paris, but that was easy to say in an ugly city filled with beautiful visions.

A single one seemed to keep the others at bay, but it was far from human. It looked more like a skeletal dragon, approximately the size of a horse. Ghost lights burned in its skull where eyes should have been, lighting translucent bones with a glimmering radiance. When one stepped too close to the model, it moved between ghost and human with a single, fluid motion, ethereal flames brightening for an instant to force a backward step.

But at the very least, it didn't seem dangerous. Not yet, at least.

~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI


The offices of Reapers R Us were always busy, a general hustle and bustle of movement and paperwork the norm for their duties. With that in mind, some commotions could be ignored.

Mochi sprinting full force through the halls with a few of HR's usual suspects scrambling after the mayor of Decibitus was surprisingly included in that list. Mochi was, after all, a dog that enjoyed his exercise, and the non-reaper workers of Reapers R Us were usually the unfortunate victims that simply couldn’t ignore the presence of a corgi sneaking off with someone’s cookie. It would cause no harm, so Elliot had learned over the years to let it be.

As the corgi sprinted as quickly as his legs could take him, Elliot knocked on the door of Miss Death's office and waited for the usual call to be let in.

Thumpthumptaptaptapthud!

Mochi made another round.

"Hm?"

The mayor’s assistant knocked again, this time with more force in case the woman’s attention was taken too deeply by some new spell. When the response failed to come after Mochi had made another two rounds, Elliot had little choice but to conclude that Miss Death wasn't in her office. A rarity when it came to someone like Miss Death. He had his suspicions on where she’d gone, but after enough meetings with the woman, Elliot was confident he had at least some knowledge of her mindset. Sighing to himself, the mayor’s assistant shook his head and knelt to the ground.

"Mochi." The corgi came bounding into Elliot’s arms, tongue lolling with each excited pant–whatever snack he’d stolen was notably long gone. The dog’s tail wagged excitedly as he tilted his head up at his owner, his snout nudging Elliot’s chin. "Let's go to the lobby and wait for some reapers. I'm sure someone must know where Miss Death is."

Stepping around the now-exhausted members of HR with a small nod of his head, the man went to do exactly what he said–wait.
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by OwO
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Lucian

~1430 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

Lucian was in his element. Fashion shows were like a second home to him. While he often got lost in his day to day life, the directionally challenged Lucian was able to perfectly navigate any venue. It was as though his compass' north star was the nearest dressing room.

Unlike his compatriots, Lucian was not a literal who within a fashion venue. No, his time on the runway made his face (but more importantly, his body) known to everyone in the fashion world. It wouldn't normally have been an issue, but his death was listed within celebrity magazines almost immediately. Of course, Lucian didn't exactly have the presence of mind to be aware of this fact. No, he was the sort of person to instantly cause a PR disaster on accident.

It was a good thing Lucian also had quickly tuned out Sigrun before she suggested to converse with the industry. No, Lucian had become preoccupied with something quite critical:

Cubes of cheese on toothpicks.

He was busy spiriting the little devils away while nobody was looking.

Frankly, it didn't quite matter if someone was watching. They'd simply see a bit of cheese float into the air and subsequently vanish. Instead, what caused him to keep it secret was the massive guilt about eating something so bad for him. Like a toddler without object permanence, if someone didn't see him eat it, it was like it never happened.

Thankfully, he remained close enough to the rest of the reapers that he could jump in if something happened.
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Lasrever
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Amelia Dupont

~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI



"What do you mean, banned from Paris?"

"I don't make the rules, Miss Dupont."



Amelia had been in a poor mood today. For various reasons, her gun sat heavy at her hip, and she was under very clear instructions that she didn't get to fire it here. Not even a little. Her pockets were light, as they so often seemed to be, but there was only one job on the board, and after the last time she'd been back home, it seemed that Amelia couldn't take it. Not by her own choice.

They really did hold a grudge over simple misunderstandings up here. Or at home? It was unclear where the blame lay.

Inconvenient, how these things panned out. It had her heading to the lobby anyway, in hopes that there'd be some last-minute panic, or failing that, that she'd find someone to talk to. It hadn't been too long since she last spoke with the boss, and she was pretty sure she was close to getting the terrifying immortal on-board with workplace pranks, so that was always an avenue to pursue. She would need to prepare for that, mind you, given how good their other bosses seemed to be at tracking these things to their root cause. The sacrifices she made to liven up their workplace were great, and measurable in disciplinary pay-cuts.

She wondered if there was a limit on those. Did reapers have a union? Then again, they also tended to impose standards, didn't they...

Clearly there was no solution to this. Elliot would tell her that she could just 'stop making suggestions', but other than that, there was no solution. Things would have to continue as they were, in that case: his assignment of blame to her was doubtless another excuse to keep her from walking the mayor.

She'd been standing in the lobby for some time now, the receptionist looking upon her with some measure of unjustified suspicion. looking for an excuse to act, the sound of panting caught her attention, and she looked towards it with a wicked grin.

Well, well. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear with his little dog.

No doubt he would be thrilled to see her; Mochi would, at least. He always was.

"Elliot! You look harried. Looking for something? Need help? Someone to keep Mochi company while you run around?" She spun around to look at the man, bouncing on her heels a little. "Apparently, I can't be in Paris because I am 'not to be trusted', so I would like to have something to do."
Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by banjoanjo
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Aron Carvajal


~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI


“D-doesn’t have to be like right now but maybe, I dunno, there’s like a waiting list? Some request backlog?”

The receptionist’s gaze turned steelier, and though the logical part of his brain told him it was very clearly directed at someone behind him, Aron gulped.

“...if it’s not too much trouble.” He took a thick forearm off the reception desk to scratch at his beard sheepishly.

The lady muttered something under her breath (something about collateral reports?) and looked back at her screen. “I’ll put the request for a desk relocation in. For one Aron Carvajal… reason: …’the rats keep breaking in’. Is that correct?”

“I… wouldn’t phrase it like that exactly…”

“And these rats are coming from…?”

“The bloke next to me likes to collect - or he has this spell or something - well, he has a bunch of them. And he keeps losin’ them. And I guess there are snacks in my drawers and it’s hard to remember with all the papers in ‘em sooo…”

“You guess?”

“I. Yeah.”

She continued typing but brought a hand to knead at the bridge of her nose. “And you can’t just… clean your desk to prevent them from smelling whatever’s in there?”

“I. It’s.” He coughed. “I, uh, don’t come in very often?”

The ‘yip!’ of a noble saviour shook Aron from the awkwardness of the situation, followed by the pattering of corgi paws making its way through the lobby. At last, an ally in his quest for a rat-free desk. Aron took a moment to search his shorts pockets before surreptitiously shaking a half-crushed sleeve of cookies in Mochi’s direction.

“You know you’d have to clean your desk anyway to actually move, right?”

“Solid point. Yeah. …A-are you still going to put the request through?”
Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by BayRat
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Edward Bennigan




~1430 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE




Edward had always hated crowd. He was never fond of cities either. He didn't think he'd have to relive such claustrophobia after dying, yet here he was. Another job for the afterlife. At least he didn't have to force his way through a crowd, being incorporeal had its perks. The wizard was deep in thought as he drifted through the crowds, not bothering to show himself nor engaging in the event.

Despite his reluctance on the assignment, a prevention job seemed apt enough. A job that doesn't necessarily mean anything drastic will happen, and yet will also provide experience. Still, the lack of any specific task meant that until shit hit the fan, if it even would, he was more or less stuck at this..this 'fashion' venue.

A scoff at the very idea. What could be more fashionable then a sick eyepatch and an entire set of robes that highlighted how much of a master of the arcane he was. Aside from the food, there was little to enjoy from this locale. He had standards, unlike a more empty-headed coworker that was already indulging himself in cheese.

Well, at the very least he could study the target of intrigue. It was curious how this mortal somehow drew in so many dangerous spirits that would even warrant such a vague job to begin with. Perhaps the true culprit is a cursed placed on her. Or maybe its something to do with a horrible tragedy. He was vaguely aware of charlatan spiritualists, who failed to even account for a city in the afterlife, that would make comments on how emotions can attract spirits. Was that even true? Its not like Edward himself was ever drawn in by such an affect. Hogwash, most likely.

For now, he'd have to settle on following this Celeste character. The necromancer came to a stop as he spotted the target of interest. Though, whatever curiosities he had about her curse or what have you was overshadowed by the larger specter stalking just behind her. Nevermind the other ghosts that followed, there was a god-damned skeletal behemoth just behind her. A dragon? That alone raised so many questions. Dragons weren't real animals, right? That couldn't just be a ghost. And yet the nature suggested skeletal remains. Perhaps its some form of, magical being? No, no this was extremely unusual. The bodies of ghosts are more based on will then their actual living bodies, true, yet this was too specific. It wasn't just a monster, but the apparent remains of one.

More important than that, this was an amazing reference. His imagination ran wild with what he could do to re-create such a spirit of bones. Perhaps he could raid a museum for parts or try to sculpt the shapes of the more unnatural bones from scratch. No, he needed a sketch first. Detailed sketches.

Edward hovered closer to the trail of spirits. He kept a distance behind so as to avoid a direct disturbance, but kept close enough so that he could maintain a good angle to begin sketching the creature. With his tome in one hand, and a pen in the other, he drew furiously multiple sketches of the monster. A stupid, wild grin on his face as all manner of thoughts and plans as to his next, newly inspired project raced through his head.
Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by PapiTan
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~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI


It didn’t take long for someone to enter the lobby, though the smile that crossed Elliot’s features–in the form of the slightest twitch of the corner of his mouth–wasn’t exactly what one could call “pleased” in any form of the word. He knew Amelia well. Too well, considering she was but one of the reapers employed at Lucema Regini. Even before his increasingly frequent visits to the building with the sudden failure of the Departure Rail, she had been…

‘A disaster in motion.’

Mochi, however, gave a yip of glee, even as he scrambled off to god-knew-where. That was probably for the better, though Elliot was certain that the little dog would demand his offering of cheese after his curiosity had been sated.

“Ah, yes, I can think of no better place for you to be than in a crowded, glass room suspended dozens of meters off the ground floor with an unpredictable outcome looming overhead,” the mayor’s assistant said with no shortage of sarcasm. He didn’t bother catching himself with it–Amelia had visited enough times with hopes of walking Mochi that he’d found the front of extreme civility wasn’t doing either of them favors. “But as luck would have it, you might be one of the few that can help at the moment.”

Glancing back toward the way he’d come, the brunette turned back to face Amelia with a small, helpless shrug of his shoulders.

“I came to ask Miss Death for her usual oversight on the yesterday’s arrivals to the city, but she seems to have slipped out of her office.” Which was odd, in and of itself. Miss Death wasn’t the type to leave her quarters and even less likely to do so without giving anyone forewarning. “You talk to her more than the typical reaper, right? Any chance she let slip that she had a meeting somewhere? Maybe with Uchi?”

Elsewhere, Mochi was haphazardly pawing up at Aron’s hand, his nose wriggling in the air to catch the scent of some sweet treat being held out. Though his head was turned to the reaper, the canine’s eyes kept darting back to his owner and Amelia, tail wagging and feet pattering on the floor with a sort of impatient apprehension usually reserved for young children waiting for Santa on Christmas Eve.

Then, a light of mischief that seemed far, far too human for any dog to attain came to life in the corgi’s eyes.

He dropped back to the floor with a soft tap.

“Worf! Worf worf!”

Then, a set of tiny, terrible teeth was at work, Mochi’s small-but-mighty frame tugging at any part of Aron’s shoe that he could latch onto to try and drag the much-larger reaper toward Elliot and Amelia. The force was hardly anything to write home about, but the dog’s excitement meant missed nips and an overeager snout ramming into Aron’s shin with each attempted yank.

After all, Amelia meant he was going to get cheese! And he could still get the cookies if he brought the snack man with him!

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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Abstract Proxy
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~1430 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE



Noticing the resident encyclopedia wandering after the strange procession of undead with a stupid smile plastered on his face that she had learned to associate with matters of arcane academics and related projects sure to waste what little funding afforded to the Reapers, Vera muttered a string of silent curses.

"Cheese boy," she hissed at Lucian, as she moved to follow Edward. She did not trust the wizard on his own. The unwillingly deceased had little patience for art, much less hurried sketches."Our friend who wears glasses goes, we should follow him, before he disturbs the caravan."

Silently shifting, Vera felt a hint of adrenaline. If Reapers still felt such things. She could taste tension in the air. She didn't like it. She didn't like the civilians. She didn't like that the civilians gathered around them. It was a danger. It was a problem. They would have to move carefully. They would have to move slowly. The ghosts would have to be dealt with, eventually.

The dragon.

The fucking skeletal dragon was a bigger problem. Where was St. George when you needed him?

Thinking on the matter, Vera considered, not for the first time, that the reapers were being criminally underpaid. Easy job. Easy job. Easy job was all Sigrun kept saying. Vera nursed a growing suspicion that easy meant something else to the administrative personal.
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by ERode
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~1435 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE


As it was, Saint George was taking a much needed vacation, watching a Broadway production of She Kills Monsters with his pet rat. And what was there to worry about anyways? If a dragon was dead, it couldn’t have made for that big of a threat. Now the living dragons, those were the ones to be afraid of!



Not that the ramblings of a bygone saint meant much to the present situation.

Unseen and unheard, Edward was lost in his own little world as he sketched away at the skeletal dragon, noting the fantastical nature of its structure. Despite evidently taking its cue from fantasy and mythology, the size of the creature and the length of its skeleton-limbs seemed to beggar disbelief at how viable it truly was. If this truly was the ghost of a dead dragon, it certainly wouldn’t be able to fly, and its skull too seemed more reminiscent of a child’s approximation of a dinosaur than anything else. This, at least, despite its fearsome visage and impressive gouts of phantasmal flame, didn’t seem to match the necromancer’s own image of a city-destroying reptile…but perhaps that was for the better.

The beast continued to stalk its quarry, snaking around and warding off the ghostly parade that Celeste Arnaux attracted. Despite the tension around her, however, the pink-haired model handled herself well. Back straight, smile always on, she greeted guests and journalists one by one, the spotlights interspersed through the venue always seeming to catch her at just the right lighting to give her that sort of graceful yet dramatic mien. It reminded the reaper, for a moment, of Miss Death’s own countenance, yet wielded to a more exacting, deliberate effect. But beneath the exterior of an eminent fashion model laid too an uncertain fear. Her eyes traced the shadows interlacing with the crowds. Glided over the spotlights and the rafters. Searching, perhaps, for a sign of the fatal misfortune that had stalked her.

And then, stopping.

Vera could read it there, reflected in the woman’s blue eyes. Surprise. Recognition. And then…

The woman excused herself from her acquaintances, her steps gaining a click-clackering tempo as she maneveured herself through the room, each movement a bit faster than the next. The dragon trailed her, jaws swinging open, but the parade recognized the threat at a glance, the possibility of total annihilation.

Lucian saw her, of course. Saw Celeste walking right towards him, staring right at him.

But he was eating cheese. As in, the cheese was in his mouth. As in, there shouldn’t be any floating cheese in the air, so he should totally just be invisible, which meant that she was obviously just looking at someone behind him.

Until, of course, she grabbed his very tangible wrist and pulled him away with her off to an isolated corner of the venue. All it took was a few seconds, and she was looking at him once more, her eyes now mixed with shock and…something more calculating.

“Lucian! Mon dieu, you’re supposed to be dead!”



Reddish-brown hair, parted and combed.

A well-tailored suit, one that yet managed to accentuate his decidedly average build.

And, most interestingly, a set of green eyes. The green of a murky lake.

Close to the stage, a young man watched the happenings in that isolated corner.

Then, he turned to the woman by his side and took her hand in his. Skin against leather.

They’d begin, soon.
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by BayRat
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Edward Bennigan




~1435 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE




Edward was no biologist, but he knew bones well. He’s worked with them since he was a child after all. The creepy kid that played with dead rats and bird skeletons at one time. He had a general awareness for how bones were. The structure, the shape, the pieces. How it all assembled like puzzle pieces. Despite the wide variety of vertebrates there was some sense of order to their scale and anatomy. This Skelton thought, upon his thorough observation, wasn’t like that. Joints too small, pieces too large. Bits and parts that looked like they were put together from different animals. It reminded him of those videos of people faking skeletons of monsters, or how people fashioned monsters from miscellaneous dinosaur bones. Like, someone’s imagination of a monster’s skeleton rather than the real thing.

Well, this at least gave him inspiration for how he could recreate it. Maybe he could raid a museum? Well, personal hobby aside it did strike him curious. Perhaps this was indeed a spell rather than an individual spirit. In that case though, that raised the question if this is Celeste’s spell, branding her in league of the arcane, or if this was placed on her by someone else.

The mystery deepens! In fact, why the hell was her hair pink? It was like she was the protagonist of some kind of anime. Life imitates art he supposed, Maybe that’s why all those specters followed her.

Through the moving line, Edward’s pace made him appear almost in sync with the lines of ghosts, aside from him being busy with his book, and occasionally walking out of the line to try another angle. At a distance, the dark purple robes he wore probably didn’t look to out of place in the venue by its shape and color, though the distinct pointed hat, eyepatch with a skull design, and vibrant white pants shattered that illusion of being any well dressed or fashionable ghost.

The necromancer had gotten a few sketches in before he noticed the head of the spirit line stopped. Having looked up to observe, he saw Celeste recognizing the empty-headed cheese enthusiast Lucian before dragging him off. Unaware that Lucian was indeed incorporeal to most mortals, Edward’s natural assumption that he was just trying to blend in and eat some cheese. He wouldn’t be trying to eat corporeal food while being incorporeal in a giant venue after all, he wasn’t that stupid right?

Nonetheless, that bastard knew Celeste?! Why didn’t he tell any of them? Or, maybe no one had bothered to tell him. It wouldn’t be the first slight of disrespect his co workers expressed. The fools. Throwing away his rat skeletons for “Sanitary Reasons.” Bah, as if they had any need for such things in death.

Still, this was a bit of a shock. The fool should have hid himself instead of just, sitting around in plain sight getting his fill of dairy.

Maybe he knew more about her curse? … No, Lucian was an air head in death, he doubt he’d retain such information even if she told him.

Ed stood there to process his thoughts while Lucian was led off. Surely he had to keep following, but he felt like he was forgetting something.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by banjoanjo
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~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI


"I'm glad to know we're in agreement. The issue, though, was not the particular location, but the city." Amelia's grin only widened, as she adopted one of her more common strategies and completely ignored Elliot's obvious sarcasm, taking it as the sort of compliment she was obviously due more of. "Such is life, I suppose."

It wasn't ideal to know Miss Death was gone, mind you. Amelia's expression became slightly perturbed, as she thought it over. "Are there any special occasions coming up? I was trying to introduce her to the concept of surprise parties, it now occurs to me that I may not have thought my descriptions through."

Amelia caught herself before she elaborated too heavily. She had the strangest sense that Elliot would actually be deeply upset at certain choices she'd made in that conversation. "I don't think involving Uchi is the natural next step, but I suppose I could follow the logic..."

Surprise parties? With... Miss Death?

Elliot felt the burgeoning headache start to take root at the thought. As much as he respected the pink-headed immortal, some things simply weren't gong to mix well with her mentality. Surprise parties sounded like one of those things.

"I..." The brunette sighed, removing his glasses with one hand so he could pinch the bridge of his nose with the other. Amelia was probably the last person that should explain the concept of a surprise party, especially to someone like Miss Death. "And what exactly do you think would have been the 'next natural step' based on what you told her?"

Amelia cleared her throat. "I believe my advice to her was 'the more surprising the better'. I may not have said what would constitute unacceptable means of achieving surprise. She didn't ask." She thought on it. "I'm sure it would take at least a little time to procure fireworks..."

Perhaps that pyrotechnics were Amelia's first instinct for 'surprise' was a problem in itself. Probably not, though.

That Elliot wasn't surprised spoke more to his experience in dealing with Amelia than anything else. Once again, the corner of his lips twitched up, an exasperated reaction that was becoming a reflex more than anything else.

"Not to rain on your parade, but Miss Death's concept of 'surprise' probably doesn't include fireworks." Because fireworks were predictable, even if their appearance was not. The faintest traces of strain appeared in Elliot's expression as a realization dawned upon him, the barely-there smile turning into something more akin to a grimace. "Right. I'm going to be borrowing a few reapers to look for her then."

A voice from the reception desk. "Sure, Mochi, but after I get this paperwork done, oka-- hey, h-hey!"

The great beast continued forward with its quarry, poor Aron left to clumsily hop wherever his abductor decided. A desperate prayer came unbidden to his mind when he saw who he was being led towards, as well as an outpouring bargain of, "youcanhaveeverythinginthebagjustplease-- oh, Elliot! Hi."

Aron crammed the bag back into his shorts, no doubt crushing the contents even further. Perhaps if he turned slow enough he'd make it back to reception with no further embarrassment.

"I am... I will walk that way now."

Amelia, halfway through putting together a justification, leapt on the opportunity to distract. Abruptly grabbing the nervous reaper (Aron, wasn't it?) by the back of his shirt before he could leave, she decided she probably had the power to conscript people.

"It would seem that the mayor has heard your plea." She smiled at Elliot in a manner that was less friendly and more akin to a cat showing him something she'd caught. "Assuming that you won't let me take care of Mochi while we--" she didn't bother continuing the request based on his expression, "yes, thought so. We'll have to discuss that later; for now, I'll help you! And so will... this one."

She shook Aron a little. Helpfully.

"Oh, I was actually gonna..."

He looked back to the receptionist, hoping for assistance, but could only watch her diligently attending to someone from HR. Traitor.

Elliot couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the poor reaper Mochi dragged into the ordeal. That was an unfortunately familiar situation. Still...

"Well, two or three bodies searching is better than one," Elliot admitted with a small nod of her head. "Hmm... I'd like to ask one of you to ask Uchi if he has any ideas, but asking someone to head to Mulch alone is a little..." The brunette gave a slight grimace. No, probably not great. "But I guess taking shots in the dark won't get us far either."

"Shooting in the dark's fun! It adds an element of unpredictability. But if we must do our research," Amelia's smile widened, "then what about asking two someones to head to Mulch?" Her grip on Aron wasn't loosening.

"M-Mulch?"

Despite his best efforts, Elliot couldn't find a real reason to deny Amelia's suggestion.

"I... it would be safer if you both went." It occurred to the man that he wasn't sure whether it was safer for the reapers or the surroundings, given the parties involved. "And it's just to Uchi's workshop. You two know the way, right?"

"Of course!" At least, she thought so. Pretty sure. She could ball park it. "We will get right to that. And then," she finally released her grip on Aron, squatting down to scratch the mayor behind the ears, "I can come back and walk Mochi!"

He was such a good boy. So clever, finding her a minion - sorry, coworker - to get through this task with. Once satisfied with that, she stood up, looking at her bewildered fellow reaper and holding out a hand for him to shake.

"So, it's you and I to Mulch. What's your name again?"

What just happened? "Um. Aron?" he said, tentatively taking her hand.

"Amelia! A pleasure to work with you." She shook his hand a little too fast, before dropping it and looking to Elliot. "We can go now, right?"

Were they going to be okay? Elliot didn't dare think on that too long, lest he give himself the obvious answer.

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll try and see if anyone else has seen Miss Death around in the meanwhile."
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by OwO
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Lucian

~1435 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

Being called "cheese boy" didn't really phase Lucian. He was too busy eating cheese to properly parse out what Vera said. It could have just as easily been "cheese, boy" which was an equally ambiguous statement. So, Lucian did what he did best: he shot Vera one of his patented magazine cover smiles as if she were his photographer. It was, of course, the exact wrong meaning of "cheese boy."

Quite a problem occurred directly after.

His wrist had been grasped; he was dragged away from his earthly delights. In one last panicked hurrah, he grabbed as many cheese cubes as he could with his open hand and shoved them into his pockets. He wouldn't be taken away from them that easily.

What a surprise when his brain cells finally eventually caught up to his current predicament. A familiar face. A desolate corner. A pocket full of cheese.

"I'm dead?" Lucian instantly responded in a puzzled tone. For someone who had the mind of a sieve, simple facts often escaped him. It also didn't help that Lucian's death had occurred during a blackout. No pain, no suffering; it was just waking up in a strange place after binge drinking.

He looked around with a confused expression. There was an odd glance here and there, but it wasn't like the old days when all eyes were on the unpredictable accidentally-a-diva model that took up swathes of gossip articles. He still had to be invisible, right? Even if Lucian wasn't the best at controlling his innate reaper abilities, he still had the instinctual ability to be invisible.

"You can see me, Celeste?" He followed up his first question with another.

Uncharacteristically, Lucian was able to remember a name after so long (or short; he didn't really keep track of time even before his death). Simply put, models knew models. It was like some secret society like the Freemasons. Except, you know, it was full of attractive people. Without a reminder of their past, though, he'd just skirt around any specifics.

He really didn't know what to say. However, in true Lucian fashion, he knew that someone else might.

"Manage-" He paused. She wasn't there for him anymore. Next best person. "Vera?" He spoke out loud with the expectation that she was already in ear shot.
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~1436 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE



"Гавно," Vera cursed, her eyes locked on the scene unfolding in front of her. She heard Lucian's desperate plea for help. She wasn't sure what was happening. They were faced with many sudden problems. Deeply unwelcome problems. The skeletal dragon. The ghosts. Lucian. Beautiful, thoughtless, and utterly guileless, Lucian. He'd have to have turned tangible to grab the cheese. It was a mistake. Gluttony was a grave sin, for good reason. Too much vodka, too much cheese, or too many sexual partners. It was all the same in the end.

The living weren't supposed to see Reapers. The living weren't suppose to know the Reapers. Vera remembered the presentation that the HR representative had given. Corporate buzzwords swirled through her head. Ethical violations. Nepotism. Favoritism. Conflict of Interest. And a most terrifying combination of words forged into an iron clad sentence that Vera could not help but interpret as a dire threat: "Suspected violations of company policy will result in swift investigation by the Assurance & Compliance Services Department".

Vera recognized that she needed to act. She needed to act before Lucian did exactly the sort of thing a man incapable of resisting a dairy product would do.

"Something is wrong, cheese boy, perhaps it is time we leave with your old friend. A dragon, a fucking dragon, and three...three ghosts is exactly the sort of trouble the annoying one told us to watch out for. The time of waiting has passed. The time of acting is now. It is time for us to step...in."

Vera moved closer to Lucian, readying herself to shield the two models. She knew animals. She knew how they thought. She knew how they reacted. She would not throw the first punch. She would not provoke the dragon. Strange forces were at work. Strange forces Vera did not like. To see spirits so brazen. To see a dragon or some creature made to look like one. To have Lucien made by the living. None of that had been the plan. None of that had been expected. Considering these facts, Vera made no effort to fade into the realm of the visible, she had no interest in shocking any watchers. And assuming a tangible form was foolish without knowing what would come next.

"Let us walk to the exit, Lucian, slowly. I will be beside you. Take care your companion does not get lost like our wizard," Vera said, gently nodding towards Lucian, willing his ethereal neurons to work, to perform, and to inspire a thoughtful reaction for once.

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~???? | DECIBITUS | MALUCH PRAETI


Mulch was uncharacteristically crowded, though it couldn’t be helped with how many people were entering Decibitus with no way out. Normally vacant streets were lined with those still in denial about their fates–or perhaps they were simply trying to find a way to ease the frustrations. Whether they were souls that were freshly deceased or ones that wanted nothing more than to move on was hard to tell. Makeshift shops were still open, small crowds gathering around the ones with substances that might raise some eyebrows. Others offered themselves in ways that one couldn’t back on Earth–or perhaps they could, if they weren’t looking out for themselves.

It was almost odd. Before its development, nobody cared much about the stretch of land that Maluch Praeti now occupied. Then, as half-finished buildings remained abandoned and weathered, people began to gather. Perhaps it was simply the allure of a place that was paid no mind that drew those who needed their services and wares to be ignored–not that the authorities would do more than a slap on the wrist for most.

“Bones for sale.”

“Fresh parts.”

“HPh.”


Signs littered the floor, a mixture of scents both vile and alluring hanging thick in the air. Had it been on Earth, surely people would have been more cautious about approaching, but somehow a sense of order remained. It was especially true of the route toward Uchi’s workshop. Compared to the outer edges or, for those brave enough, deeper areas of Mulch, Uchi’s workshop remained in a space that lacked the same sense of quiet made of furtive whispers that shouldn’t be overheard.

Today, however, it seemed that it traded the usual noise for an eerie emptiness, a mere handful of people present in the would-be alley. Some, of course, were out of place, clearly present because they didn’t know better. However, a boy leaned forward against a half-finished wall as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, followed by the sight of an unlikely duo. For a moment he tilted his head, confusion evident on his face, before a wicked grin formed.

“Hey, hey! You guys here to try and pick up junk from the old nag’s shop?” The blonde swung his legs over the wall, landing in the duo’s path with a practiced motion before cocking his head toward the crude written sign hanging on Uchi’s door.

Work in progress.

“That guy doesn’t hear it when ya knock whenever that sign’s up, but I can pick the lock for a few solbits.” The cheeky grin only grew in size as the boy leaned back on his heels. “He’s had a stick up his ass ever since those guys said they were gonna try walking the rail, so he deserves it anyways.”

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~1440 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE


There were plenty of words that Vera would say, of course. Plenty of sensical words, spoken of my a woman with more common sense than Lucian and Edward combined. But by the time her words reached the point where she was speaking about ‘a dragon, a fucking dragon’, that dragon indeed, did appear. It had, after all, followed after Celeste. And now, though it seemed willing to let Lucian in, Vera was a different question.

Vera wasn’t being dragged by the pink-haired ghost-seer-model. Vera wasn’t affecting the mannerisms of a cheese-chomping buffoon. Vera, instead, was being stared down by a beast with no eyes, and unless she was going throw that first punch, she could not get close to those two models at all. Ethereal flame flickered out, perhaps a warning for the uninvited.

But Celeste too, would have noticed Vera.

“Of course, I can see you!” she snapped back. “And unless you had actually faked your death and then somehow gained the powers of a prodigious wallflower, you’re definitely dead. But wait, so that woman over there is like, working with you then?” Gears were turning visibly now. Thoughts parsed together, spun into thread, thread that wove a story. The excitement bloomed further and both of her hands now grasped Lucian’s, as if afraid the connection would disappear if she let go.

There was something brighter in Celeste’s smile. Something zealous.

“You’ve died, and become servants of the Holy Maiden?”



The two stepped upon the stage. A well-groomed man with the eyes of a muddy lake. A petite woman possessed with an aura of professionality and pragmatism. Edward would note the hush in the crowds, the dimming of the lights, but it was none of his business. His was work that pertained to ghosts and dragons, after all, necromancy and the naturally-dead-but-still-floating-around-not-due-to-magical-means. The ghosts continued to float about, their advance towards that pink-haired model paused by the presence of the reapers, and yet not noticing Edward amongst their kind yet. Vera was facing off against the dragon herself, yet neither of them had broken the equilibrium of caution and warning.

It all laid in balance. A quiet balance.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement to make.” A soothing, confident voice. Practiced and planned, from a man who was born with a silver spoon. “Jeunes Fleures and L’ile aux fees will be merging.”

That balance was broken.

Even as a reaper, the necromancer could feel the surge of excitement rippling through the ground, followed by undertones of anxiety and fear. Two influential companies had joined forces permanently! A competitor had suddenly become just that much stronger! Goddamn, imagine the pieces they could create together!

In ordinary circumstances, this was nothing. But when there were ghosts present? That influx of emotion triggered something.

A twitch. A gleeful laugh.

The young child, clutching a flower-shaped bag to her chest, could finally remove it, exposing her bones. Bones studded with flower seeds, which sprouted and expanded, shooting upwards towards the ceiling. They snaked around the lights, but the rumble of discussion of the guests made them deaf to the rattling of the ceiling, and from those sky-lusting roots, carnations bloomed. The two remaining ghosts, shook from their deathly trance, tried to float off, but their incorporeal limbs were snagged by thorn whips, dragged into the back-bending embrace of the child.

Embraced, until petals closed over all three, sealing them in bulb of motley purples and oranges.

Cannibalism. The nature of wisps was to consume those who had yet to turn and to use that energy to further fertilize their phantom-being.

And though two were already being digested…there was another. One that had yet to draw his weapon.

Tendrils, laced with the ceiling itself, reached out for Edward. He could rip through one or two, perhaps. Three even. Four if he tried. He could handle a dozen at once with good positioning. But how many branches did a rosebush have?



It was chaos invisible to all but those who were dead and those who could see.

And the dragon, certainly, must have been dead.

Ephemeral flame, once nothing more than an illusion of that element, sparked with true power now, broiling within its exposed chest.
There was a strange woman, and a stranger wisp, and its bestial rage was enough to encompass them both. With a snapping that sounded like a lighter’s spark wheel, the dragon’s jaws opened up and delivered a jet of flame to burn the two of them alive!

…or dead, one would suppose.
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Edward Bennigan




~1440 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE




Indeed, the necromancer was far too concerned with the supernatural to bother with such trivial mortal affairs. Fool that he was to not recognize how the spirits could react; his attention was still focus on the now absent party. He hadn't even noticed he was alone, not that it bothered him.

It wasn't until the emergence of vines that caught his attention. First to the spirits that had been consumed by flowers. His first thought was of rescue in truth. Passionate over the preservation of a soul, foolish as it may be in this world. Even be they wisps, all that meant was that he had to dispatch of them himself. No problem for a mage so overconfident in his ability.

But whatever plan he had was cut short when vines emerged to target him. Close quarters was not his strong suit, and he was far from the more capable reapers in fitness. Still, his confidence didn't waver.

"Oho, You wish to claim my essence wisp?" Edward spoke with a hint of sinister glee. If nothing else, a good fight would let him show off how powerful he thought he was.

He first attempted to evade the vines, drifting backwards as fast as he could to gain distance. In an attempt to slow down some of the vines, he had drew out one of his bone-filled, tied up bags out onto the closest vine; and once it reached its tip, spoke his spell.

"Rise and serve the master of death!"

The bones within the bag at once became animate, protruding from the bag with sharpened bits. To his will, the bones assembled a crude net-like formation. The mass could only extend a 7 foot diameter, and lack of material had its gaps wide; he'd at least hope the it will slow ever so slightly the majority of the vines.

Confident with the distance he gained, he'd draw out his staff; the gold ring on his finger shimmered as the black gem within sparked with electricity, until it morphed to his hand as his weapon.


"Witness my power!"


Well, the staff wasn't his power, but they didn't need to know that. Edward let out a cackle as electricity fired from its tip to the mass of vines, sustaining the duration of the lightning in hopes to achieve substantial damage.

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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by OwO
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Lucian

~1440 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE


With his hands grasped by Celeste, Lucian was bombarded with the thoughts of someone who had a rational mind. At least, a mind that could see two facts and combine the two. Lucian's mind did not have these qualities. He was prone to having completely wrong understandings because his brain got stuck on specific things. Celeste mentioning the Holy Maiden was one of these scenarios.

"What? She doesn't have holes. People aren't cheese."

Good comprehension, Cheese Boy.

Of course, Celeste didn't have the time to correct him when things immediately went down. A torrent of plants had erupted from a now-wisp. Even Lucian could tell it was pretty bad. Unfortunately, the dragon blocked Lucian from seeing Edward going hard or Vera moments away from getting smoked. As a result, Lucian was saddled with the unfortunate truth of a rampant wisp and fire-breathing dragon: they were still in the middle of a room filled with normal people. Wisps had a tendency of harming normal people. That was bad. Lucian, in his surprising wisdom, knew that he had to help them.

"Hey universe, give me a sign to help these people." He brutishly clasped his hands together in a prayer; Celeste's hands were dragged alongside.

The universe responded.

A flash of light from Edward's attack pierced through the skeletal dragon's frame, a consequence of its holey nature. It was for a brief moment, but it illuminated a small red lever that had been hidden in the corner.

"Oh cool."

Immediately, Lucian yanked on the fire alarm that had nestled itself in the corner with Celeste attached to him in some weird ballroom dance.
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by Abstract Proxy
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~1440 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE



Seeing the fire rushing towards her, Vera mercifully heard little of Edward's screeching over the roar of flames as they rolled towards her and the invading wisp.

There was no time to swear again. No time to rail against fate or the pink haired girl woman for sending her into the fire. No time to help the wizard. No time to find cheese boy. She didn't bother gasping for air. The fire would soon steal any oxygen. Besides, what need had the already dead for breathing?

Moving unhesitatingly, faster than the nervous system of a still living mortal could ever hope to fire, Vera's right hand dove into the pocket of her suit jacket, retrieving a small piece of paper. Long swirling letters in a fine black ink, formed a great vine of monochromatic flowers. The product of a bored mind and too much time spend listening to another of Sigrun’s classically long briefing. Vera had found it deeply confusing when Sigrun spent minutes explaining that unnamed Reapers had been banned form Paris and the importance of following the "Standard Operating Procedures"...Reapers were professionals, were they not? Surely such things were obvious.

Wasting no time on regulatory thoughts, Vera summoned power from the arcane reservoir that resided within her. She felt a familiar warmth as magic leapt from her fingertips to the piece of paper. Globus invulnerabilitatis the swirling script read. Globe of Invulnerability.

A shield. A way to buy time. Enough time she hoped. She didn't need much. Just a moment. Unwaiting, Vera reached for the gem chained to her arm. She needed her sword. She needed her sword for dragon hunting.
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~???? | DECIBITUS | MALUCH PRAETI



“He’s had a stick up his ass ever since those guys said they were gonna try walking the rail, so he deserves it anyways.”

Aron, finally finding this an appropriate moment to make eye-contact with a denizen of Mulch, frowned and tilted his head.

"Breaking in sounds..." Like the best way to deteriorate his relationship with the craftsman even further. Hopefully that wasn't the only option. "Oh, how did the rail walking go for those guys?"

"Hmmmm..." The blonde scratched the back of his head for a moment in thought, eyes narrowing with concentration. "They left like, three days ago and I don't think anyone's seen them since." A grin broke across the youth's face. "Maybe they made it to the After? Hell if I know."

"Maybe. Either way, you can't expect them back. Don't think they just have the rail for the hell of it, though I could respect that kind of decision. There are worse things than taking your life in your hands." Perhaps something to look into? Of course, the people most likely to have the relevant knowledge were the people they were looking for. She, for one, wanted to know if it'd be exciting.

With that in mind, Amelia took it upon herself to end Aron's initial sentence in the obvious manner. "But yes, I agree with Aron. Breaking in does sound good." Of course she knew that wasn't what he meant. That was at least half of the fun. "If you are willing to help us out, we are firm believers in teamwork, aren't we?"

Despite the patent and probably frantic protests taking place not ten feet away, the boy's demeanor somehow succeeded in visibly brightening at his suggestion being accepted.

"Hell yeah!" Pumping one fist into the air in triumph, he dug his hands around in his pockets for a moment, drawing a thin kit from his coat before approaching the workshop door. "The nag's lock sucks--if I can get it in like, a minute, can I get a bonus?"

"I-I'm not paying for this!"

"I think I spent all of mine. Do you take IOUs?"

"Lame." The boy's expression matched the flat tone of the single-word response. "But I bet the old nag will pay if it's important you talk to him or whatever."

Plus, it might be fun just to see the aftermath, but the blonde kept that to himself.

He knelt before the door, the tools in hand working like magic with a practiced dexterity, though the faint glow from actual magic certainly helped with the illusion. Clearly, this wasn't the lad's first time doing such morally dubious work. True to his word, it took just short of a full sixty seconds for him to try the handle of the door--it turned with minimal resistance. A cheeky grin was directed at the duo.

"Heh, no need for a doorbell when you got me around."

"Impressive. I'd say that does deserve a bonus after all." Amelia glanced at Aron, pausing to clear her throat before going for the doorway as quickly as she could, "last one in has to pay!"

For a brief moment, Aron considered just letting her go. Taking the time to get out his wallet, paying the child for what his services were worth - heck, maybe even get his name. Then he recalled who they were visiting, what the purpose of this trip was, and which coworker he was about to leave alone with one of the scariest people in Decibitus.

"Uhhh. Later, kid!" he shouted over his shoulder, sprinting after Amelia.

To Aron's credit, he was probably right about Uchi being one of the scariest people in Decibitus. It wasn't necessarily the fact that he provided the weapons to reapers or even how it appeared that his very presence kept the usual vagrants of Mulch in line, but both factors certainly held a portion of the pink-haired man's notoriety.

In the moment that he noticed the two reapers barelling into the door, however, the most frightening thing about him was probably the ferocity that he shouted with.

"STAY THE FUCK AT THE DOOR, DIPSHITS!"

A smoky tendril seemed to shoot toward them, only to be snapped back by a strand of light--and it was clear then what "work in progress" meant at the door. The dark energy every reaper was so familiar with writhed and twitched in a shape that only vaguely resembled an orb, much of it bound in an array of light. It seemed almost alive in its attempts to break free, whatever obedience it had before now gone.

"Son of a bitch!" Uchi placed both hands on the mass, a dim light shining at his side releasing another strand of light to bind the darkness.

"Wow, he's shouting a whole lo--whoa." The boy peered in, eyes wide as he started to enter the workshop himself. "That looks sick as hell! Can I see?"

Whether the youth hadn't heard or didn't care about the previous warning was anyone's guess, as his steps started to take him past the entrance to the forge. They wouldn't take him very far as a frantic hand yanked him back by the collar. The boy made a strange sound at the sudden resistance and force, backpedaling a few steps before precariously regaining his balance.

"Wait, wait..." Aron gawked at whatever was happening in the workshop.

Whatever it was, it was enough to get Amelia to actually do what she'd been told, instead of the opposite, and pull back towards the entryway. "I suppose certain death isn't too fun..." she cleared her throat, calling out, "is it a bad time to ask questions?"

"Wh--yes, now is a bad time!" Uchi snapped before narrowing his eyes and all raising the wriggling smoke he had been holding down a few inches off the table before slamming it back down with a resounding thunk. "Fuck it."

The radiance wound itself tight around the mass as soon as Uchi pulled his hands back, enveloping it like a cocoon before Uchi clenched both fists. It tightened on command, compressing with all due force before fading away, leaving behind only the familiar shape of an inactive weapon core where light and shadow had been struggling moments before. The weaponsmith heaved a sigh, used the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow, and fiddled with a small charm hanging from his belt loop--an old fashioned thing made of string and glass, but it had certainly been the source of the previous light.

Then, he turned to the door, expression far too relaxed for his usual demeanor.

"What. The fuck? Do you dumbasses have any idea what kinda shit that could have been?"

"Bad, I assume." Amelia got the sense there was no right answer here. "Maybe could've thought that through more. But, you know, sometimes the body acts before the mind..."

"In emergencies..." Aron looked to the side. "We're just asking for information..."

Uchi narrowed his eyes again, the action even seeming to subdue the boy who had let Amelia and Aron in to begin with. The sudden shrinking seemed to tell the man enough, and he gave an exasperated shake of his head.

"Don't let that brat convince you to pick the lock so easily next time. Being loud and reckless might have kept you two from eating shit this time." The man tossed the stray weapon core onto a counter on the opposite side of the room. "So what's Miss Death lookin' for in Mulch this time?"

"Of course. Next time, we shall be as loud and dramatic as possible; I'll arrange something. This time, though, we aren't here for Miss Death." Amelia stopped, and frowned. "Well, we are. But not in the sense of... look, Eliot sent us. She, Miss Death, isn't in her office. We were hoping you could point us in the right direction."

"She--she's what?"

Oh, that didn't seem good. Aron squinted. "You... don't know where she is?"

"No, she didn't say anything about being out." He frowned. "And she's not the type to leave unannounced."

The frown deepened, somehow.

"Unless she's trying to avoid people that know her."

"Huh." Amelia was thankful she left worrying to other people. "Is there a reason she'd be doing that? Special day? Haven't checked my calendar in a while, but she usually has reasons for the things she does." Admittedly, sometimes they were very strange reasons, but still.

Aron was just glad to be able to leave the workshop on short notice. "Well, where would she even go?"

"If it were a special day, I'd probably know it by now," Uchi started. Then, as if Aron's question sparked a flash of realization, the man sighed, pressing his fingers against his temples lightly as he drew a sharp breath. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, if she didn't tell anyone shit, Miss Death's probably gone off somewhere she knows others aren't going to like her being at."

Which, given the position Miss Death held in the court of Decibitus's public opinion, narrowed things down quite a bit.

"So she's probably doing exactly what Eliot and I have told her not to do and run off to the Arch to see Earth directly or to the Depths. And it doesn't sound like anyone at your office heard anything about her wandering around the Arch."

"No, they didn't." Amelia whistled, seeming oddly excited by the prospect. "Well, it would only be responsible for us to follow this lead together. Always have been curious about the inside of these places. Never managed to see in life, so..." she grinned towards Aron, as if expecting him to share in her enthusiasm, "happy days."

He regarded her with extreme suspicion. "You've never been to prison? Really?"

"I haven't! Not for lack of action, admittedly." Amelia conceded, finding an equal level of scepticism in Uchi's expression as she looked away. "But, you know, money talks. Louder than most rules do."

"And yet we both have so little of it now," Aron sighed.

"A tragedy."

The expression on Uchi's face as he watched the exchange, for just a moment, could only be read as pity. It disappeared with a shrug, though largely because the man turned back to the weapon core he'd tossed onto the counter earlier and not through any control on his own part.

"That woman's gonna clam up if I show up with you to the Depths, so you two are on your own there." A pause. A furtive glance shot at the two reapers earned only a pesky pang of conscience. "I'm not gonna have time to eat now, so go ahead and take the food behind that counter before you head out. Won't last 'til after I'm done with this shit anyways."

"Oh, fuck yes. I mean, ahem, thank you Uchi." Amelia was quick to move to take him up on the offer, before remembering Aron was there. She paused, considered how the rest of the day had gone, and decided to wave him ahead. "Uh. You can pick first. I'll eat most things anyway."

The thought of being offered food right after breaking into a colleague's place made things feel even more awkward for Aron, so he decided to handball it to the kid. "Sure, uhhh, I dunno, do you want anything?"

"Nah, I gotta eat with the gang later anyways," the boy claimed with a grin. "You guys sound like you need it more."

"If you say so... Uhh, thanks Uchi." It was probably even poorer manners to turn down someone's hospitality after being offered it. Aron moved to pick up some cutlery and looked to the boy once more. "Sorry, did you ever give your name?"

"Aw, man, you forgot already? Laaaame." Of course, he hadn't, but that was beside the point. "Guess you'll have to find out next time."

"I'm just going to call you Hugo." Amelia shrugged, attention mostly on the food by now. "We should eat quickly. Perhaps the Depths will be more fun with a full stomach."

"I don't think that's his-- never mind." Aron mumbled and simply dug into his food as he was told.
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~1440 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE


A mesh of bone criss-crossed out like a network of nerves or blood vessels rather than what they truly were. Neither a barrier nor an obstruction, they served only to be caught in the deluge of tendrils that slipped into the gaps before splaying out. The net was torn apart in mere seconds, the necromancer’s magic doing little to dissuade the flower-wisp’s wrath.

But Edward only needed a handful of seconds.

For in the next instant, everyone in the room that had even the slightest sensitivity to magic could feel it. A tingling upon their skin. A tremor of truest power. Twas the wrath of the storm condensed, black clouds forced into the shape of a black gem, a weapon of destined destruction forged by the greatest smith within the realm of the dead. Today, all wisps would learn to fear him. Today, Edward was motivated!

“Witness my power!”

Arcs of electricity gathered upon the magical focus like a Tesla ball, before the invocation of the reaper sent a stream of power right towards the surging vines. They tried to curve away, to evade the blast, but what plant could outpace sky-fire? It carbonized instantly, green replaced by smouldering black as electricity raced upwards into the main body of the flower-wisp, before exploding with such force that the massive phantasm was sent flying back!

Back, dragging the lights down with it.

Edward saw all those entirely physical lights falling, falling, falling.

Upon crowds of people who just now were noticing something was wrong.



Dragon breath scattered against the Globe of Invulnerability, ethereal flame generating neither heat nor smoke as Vera’s shield held strong. Her sword was at the ready now, her bastion enough to withstand the skeletal monstrosity’s blast. Amid the roar of phantom-blaze, she could hear the crackling of Edward’s lightning, the accompanying crash and crack of ceiling and wisp.

And then, the ear-piercing ring of the fire alarm.

But all this, she could only hear, sealed as she was inside the haze of flame. Her defensive position meant that she had to wait this out. To wait for it to fade. Even if she knew, experienced as she was, that the act of casting ended before the effect of the casting. That a dragon breathing ended before the dragon’s breath.

By the time the flames scattered, Vera was already a step behind. The skeletal dragon had changed targets, about-facing to charge right for Lucian and Celeste, its jaws open this time to maim rather than burn. And stuck deep in a corner that the airhead reaper’s good fortune had guided him towards, there was no room at all now to get out of the way.
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~???? | DECIBITUS | LIGENA FATI


Rumors were always floating around Decibitus regarding the Depths, but there were few and far that ever approached the prison. After all, who wanted to be around the only place that people seemed to really die in the city? A place where people who were simply too vile in the grand scheme of things to be allowed to make their peace was hardly where the average person wanted to spend the day. It stood to reason that such a reputation was exactly why the immediate area was quiet, the lack of ambient sound making typical white noise almost deafening.

Or perhaps it was the knowledge that at some point, Ligena Fati must have been packed with villains and that the appearance of a single woman was enough to change that reality into something starkly different. Now it remained a labyrinth of empty cells for the sake of a single existence buried far out of sight and out of mind.

But what did that matter to a modern reaper? After all, it was often the veterans that took on the mantle of executioner.

Though whether such thoughts entered Amelia’s or Aron’s heads as they approached the remnant of a time long past was anyone’s guess, especially not when it appeared their target had yet to enter the prison properly. Instead, she seemed to be having a conversation with the guard–one that was easy to hear even from a distance despite Miss Death’s usual soft volume.

The familiar, pink-haired woman gazed at the current guard to the prison with an expression that looked better suited for a statue. Her gaze was equal parts unfaltering and unsettling, and for that, a shudder passed down the guard’s spine again. At least, that was what a combination of experience and logic told Miss Death as she politely chose to ignore the reaction. Apparently, as Uchi pointed out in their last meeting, people didn’t appreciate when she asked if she should retreat to a safer distance. She understood the direction, but the reasoning was harder to follow.

Then again, maybe they felt more inclined to hide it for her benefit.

She filed that particular thought away in the back of her head for later.

“Um, Miss Death, I get where you’re coming from, but I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” the guard stumbled over his words, small motions telling her more than his voice. Uncomfortable. Nervous. It was far from an unusual response. “And even if it’s you, I reaaaaally think that it’d be better if you got official clearance for it.”

“That is not going to happen. We are both aware of this truth.” Miss Death tilted her head slightly, her gaze looking somewhere beyond where the guard was standing. “His existence draws even greater dread than I. None wish to acknowledge this. I will not be granted my request.”

“Uhh…” The guard scratched the back of his head for a moment, looking like he needed someone to swoop in to save the day. “I, uhhh… I mean… Look, I don’t think I can just let you in.”

“Hm. Acceptable. I am asking for too much.”

“No! I mean, it’s–we’d both get in lots of trouble, and I–”

Miss Death raised a hand, the softening of her expression both uncanny and unnerving in the absence of any trace of a smile on her face.

“You need not worry. You are fulfilling your duty, and that is not something you must justify,” the woman stated. “Thank you for hearing my request. I hope next time you might sate your curiosity.”

The guard fidgeted uncomfortably as he gave a response that came off as more unintelligible than anything else, but Miss Death bowed her head to him nonetheless, as though oblivious to his distress.

“I will conduct my usual examination of the other cells before I leave.”
NOTES
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