[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/aQywf5g.png[/img][/center][hr][center][h3]~???? | DECIBITUS | LUCEMA REGINI[/h3][/center][hr]There were certain things that Elliot was getting used to while on the premises of Lucema Regini, most of which were things that he was entirely certain he shouldn’t be getting used to. Still, Miss Death had never been picky in her hires. Over the course of time, of course there would be a few odd reapers here or there, and of course the vocal few tended to stand out more than the silent majority. 

And then there were the ones with such telltale signs of the problematic ones. Telltale signs like the sound of yelling in French and a number of desk jockeys or off-duty reapers starting to gather in a very specific location. That was most certainly a specific sign of a specific individual. 

Elliot sighed before he could stop himself, pressing the fingers of one hand to his temple, applying enough pressure to pretend the mounting migraine wouldn’t come to pass. Mochi, however, gave an excited snuffle, paws tapping against the floor in response to the tension in the air. 

[color=#ba855b]“Okay. [i]Okay[/i].”[/color]

It was certainly not okay. It was so far from okay that Elliot almost wished Miss Death’s magic wasn’t at work, translating every word coming out of Amelia’s mouth as she stood on some commandeered desk. 

[color=#ba855b]“Amelia.”[/color]

She kept [i]going[/i]. 

[color=#ba855b][b]”Amelia.”[/b][/color]

What did she mean Miss Death wanted to speak with the Necromancer? And [i]why[/i] was the alternative being offered somehow even less appealing? 

[color=#ba855b]“Amelia!”[/color]

At last, the woman looked in his direction, but before Elliot could open his mouth to speak, the situation got worse. Between the clamoring of the workers over the spectacle and the concerned whispers, there was the other one that had gone to find Miss Death. And he was right, things were already hectic without following Amelia’s advice. Hectic enough that--

[color=#ba855b]“Wait, [i]what[/i]?!”[/color]

But Elliot’s exclamation was lost to the crowd as a surge of noise rose in a cresting wave as tensions rose in conjunction with excitement. The situation was going to get out of hand—no, understatement, it was already out of hand. Sighing deeply to himself, Elliot buried his face in his hands for a moment, grudgingly acknowledging what he had to do next if he wanted to get any semblance of answers from a single damn person in the room.

[color=#ba855b] [b]“ ≪ QUIET DOWN. ≫”[/b][/color] The Vertan words carried despite Elliot hardly speaking any louder than the commotion, largely because where they traveled, a forced silence followed. It was a short-lived spell, one that was well practiced but rarely used. The moment of quiet did its job in stunning the majority of the crowd into a speechless stupor. Which was fine. Enough. He just had to ask his question.

…

There were so many questions.

[color=#ba855b] “[i]Where[/i] exactly is Miss Death?”[/color] No, that wasn’t the one he really needed to know. He could figure from what was being said. [color=#ba855b] “Wait, no, what in the world are you talking about raising the tension? And what do you mean people are [i]walking the rail[/i]?”[/color]

Finding his anxieties growing with each word, Elliot pressed his hand to his temple again. 

[color=#ba855b]“I sent you to find Miss Death, how did that end up with this?”[/color][hr]
[@banjoanjo][@Lasrever]