Anika let out a sigh as she pushed through the wooden door of the Kaima Inn. It had been a long while since she had been here. She gave a smile and a nod to the inn keeper, who was an acquaintance to Anika. The smell of cooking food, the warmth of the fire, and the laughter and merriment of people bombarded her as she entered, but she had built an immunity to the overwhelming feeling one got when entering a new place, for Anika was always entering new places. That was the lifestyle of a gypsy.

She instinctively took an empty table in the corner, where it was the least likely she would be bothered by drunken men wishing to court her for a night and forget about her the next. She dropped into the chair against the wall and let her bag slide off onto the table with great exasperation. It was a relief to be off the road and let her aching body reinvigorate, but at the same time she missed that feeling. She had forgotten how the open road called to her, how it promised someplace new. She had forgotten how the sun warmed your back and how the most weak of breezes was a god sent to any traveler. She hadn't traveled in sometime, being at ease within BADI, but this trip was unearthing her heritage once more. The travel here from Lomedor had revived her slumbering wanderlust.

The barmaid came to her table with a smile and Anika requested wine, bread, and honey. As the woman went to retrieve her order, Anika began to rifle through her bag and set out a few of her things. When the barmaid came back, the table was decorated with tarot cards, bird bones, and some ingredients for potions.

As Anika ate her bread and sipped her wine, she began to do a tarot reading. She cleared her mind and began to flip the cards. She had been practicing her scrying for some time and had to focus little effort to the cards. After the cards were set she looked at the spread. she had the Chariot card for her past, meaning that she had won against external conflicts, or her escape from slavery. Her present card was The Fool card, which represented her current traveling and soul searching. And the thing that shocked her most was the card for her future, the Lover.

Kaima Inn was boisterous and friendly today, back to its typical warm setting. The paneled walls of wood, no doubt carved in this very town, glowed a soft orange from the myriad of candles spread about and the crackling fireplace nearby. It was just past midday, that time in between evening and noon when everyone was reclining, recently let off from work or about to go to it. Almost all of the tables were occupied, most by groups of people insistently clapping each other on the shoulders or letting their bellies rumble with hearty laughs.

There were a few people who seemed to put off the picture of merry socializing; a bard sitting on his lonesome and plucking curiously at his harp, a half dragon leaning back at a dangerous angle, his cloven feet on the table keeping him counter-balanced and saving him from an embarrassing sprawl. Then of course the newest arrival within the place, who currently held the intrigue of Nathaniel. Dressed in a cloak as she was and tucked into a darker corner he could not make her features out well, but the drawn back hood revealed dark hair and her nimble fingers produced a pouch. Something said to the waitress; too far to hear for his straining ears, and then she'd set to spilling the contents out upon her table.

Were those... bones? And... slips of paper? A psychic, perhaps? Well, if she were a fortune teller she'd chosen the perfect place and time. Filled with fools as the place was, she could make quite the fortune. The food she ordered would probably be free. Yet still his mind churned with ideas, concepts scribbled in his brain while he thought over the woman. Then he turned in his seat, his back facing her, and ran his forefinger over the rim of his mug. The other hand clutched it loosely, his grip more of an instinctive one. Dark eyes stared off, silent and still save for the roving of his finger.

Then he blinked, lifting his mug and finishing what ale remained in it in a most unflattering guzzle. His adam's apple bobbed as he leaned back, then stilled as he finished the liquid off. Carelessly he set the mug back ont the wooden table, leaning forward once more. The chair's legs cracked against the wood in unison to his mug hitting the top, and the noise was startling; yet still Nathaniel didn't flinch. Instead he grinned at his companion across the table, pushing away his plate. What was left of a few potatoes and meat still clung to the wooden item, and it'd certainly cost a pretty crown. However, there were more important tasks to see to and he'd suddenly lost his appetite.

"My good friend," He said amicably to the other male; or what appeared to be male currently, at least. "I do believe we may have found the solution to our little.. endeavour." Nathaniel gestured with his head to where the gypsy sat. "Don't mind me going and introducing myself, do you? You're welcome to come as well, naturally..." His voice could almost be called a dull purr, the predatory nature of it surprising for someone who claimed to be so good-natured. He moved back on his chair civilly, then rose and moved behind it, pushing it in gracefully; as if he hadn't just been thoroughly without manners moments prior. With one last smirk at the chaos elemental he turned from the meal, striding casually towards Anika.

A waitress passing by made him pause, standing halfway in the room as she went and gave Anika what could only be an ordered meal. Given the chance, the girl could probably pay for it with the money she would rake in reading the tales of other men. Normally he didn't care for such things, but lately he more and more faith in the unseen, and this just might be the answer to his quest he'd been searching for. The bar maid was quick to move off; not in an impolite manner, but still enough to show she was performing a duty, and Nathaniel touched her arm lightly as passed by him. "Excuse me, Miss... does she regularly come here?" He nodded towards Anika. The young woman, at least a decade Nathaniel's junior, stared up with doe-like green eyes, then turned to look to Anika. "Not that I know of, why?"

He gave a broad smile. "No reason, no reason at all. Thank you, the meal was delicious." She gave a smile, her confused expression looking smewhat relieved as she turned and went back to work. She was likely the replacement after the fiasco with one of the other barmaids, and he doubted the girl had been here long. Then again, he'd made assumptions like that before and been wrong. Regardless, he strode the final steps towards the gypsy, pausing opposite her on the outside of the table. Dark eyes cast over the bones and pictures upon the table, before settling on the mixed colours of her eyes and the dark hair. Her face was youthful, yet still her hands had moved upon those items as if she'd known them her whole life.

Either very talented, or a very good actress. Time to find out which. "Hello there, I'm sorry to disturb you. But I.. couldn't help noticing your... items. Are you a... a psychic, by any chance?" He raised his eyebrows in curiosity, and his eyes immediately looked larger, which gave him a kinder expression; one befitting a gentleman. "My mother passed recently, you see... I ah, normally wouldn't mention it, and I know you're busy, but... Well, I have some coin, if you wouldn't mind?" He rubbed the back of his neck, massaging the flesh there and the short hairs. "If you aren't I'm sorry. Heh, you must think I'm a pretty big idiot.. I'll uh, I'll just be going then." Nathaniel gave an embarrassed smile, cheeks flushing red as he went to turn away from the table.

If she let him leave, he could try again later. Perhaps send his friend in, with a new tactic. If it did work, then he would see just how talented she was. After all, his mother had died many years ago, and he'd been the one to take her life.

Tithdaeron sat quietly at the table, across from his newfound ally. Here in the Kaima Inn, where Tithdaeron did not recall having ever been to before, was their suspected quarry. All about there were men and a few women here and there, of every sort of race and walk of life. Of course, certain ones tended to group with those whom were most like them. This annoyed Tithdaeron slightly, as it gave a slight air of order to the scene in which he was forced to be in. Well, not exactly forced, as it was not only the elemental's desire to be here but also Nathaniel's.

The two had met not long ago, and as it turned out, through his cunning and powers of deduction the human warlock had managed to track down Tithdaeron. Normally the creature would have reacted by killing, maiming, devouring, or worse. However, the way in which Nathaniel approached him completely destroyed those original thoughts in his mind. Nathaniel had a plan. A rather good plan, as it turned out. Tithdaeron liked good plans, especially when it came to trickery, taking advantage of others, and generally evil things all around.

Mr. Rystoff had it on good authority that this person, known as Anika, was a powerful psychic with some darker secrets to boot. The idea was to use Nathaniel's persuasive powers and Tithdaeron's ability to change his appearance and personality to lull Anika into a trap. They would get her to fall in love with the fake person they created, and use her to every extent imaginable. Riches, valuable items, the locations of certain enemies and their weaknesses. No longer would Tithdaeron's enemies be able to avoid him, and the chaos elemental reasoned that Nathaniel's primary interest was monetary gain.

And so, there the two sat mulling over and waiting for the right moment. Nathaniel occupied himself with a drink and some food. Tithdaeron was currently shifted into a handsome man about the same age as his companion. With blond locks of hair and silver-blue eyes, the face he created for himself told of days and years of hard work on the farm and a few scrapes in the local bars. He was muscular, but not overtly so, as one would have to be close to notice it under his red long-sleeved shirt and plain cloth pants. However, his character was altogether less charming than Nathaniel himself so that he would not detract from Nathaniel's attempt at winning her over for a date.

However, if it turned out that she didn't go for the suave and gentlemanly Nathaniel, then chances were she would opt for a more rugged man. All the bases were covered, in short.

Nathaniel decided the time was right, and quickly dumped his remaining ale down his gullet. Tithdaeron raised an eyebrow slightly and found amusement in the rush he took to getting towards Anika.

"My good friend," said the warlock "I do believe we may have found the solution to our little.. endeavor." Nathaniel nodded towards where she sat. "Don't mind me going and introducing myself, do you? You're welcome to come as well, naturally..."

Before he could answer, Nathaniel pushed his plate forwards and set his chair back under the table. With a smirk, Nathaniel headed towards their goal. From his voice and expression, Tithdaeron could tell that his partner definitely enjoyed the hunt as much as the chaos elemental did. "If you should begin to struggle, I will interrupt in some way." he replied, only just loud enough for Nathaniel to hear.

Leaning forwards, Tithdaeron grabbed the plate and examined the contents. A few diced and stewed potatoes with some seasoning, and a couple pieces of beef. A simple but hearty and nutritious meal. Ignoring the eatin utensils as if they did not exist, the elemental grabbed a potato and popped it into his mouth. Chewing carefully and fully enjoying the earthy taste, he nonchalantly adjusted his chair and leaned on the table so that he could have a good view of the proceedings.

Swallowing and grabbing another potato, he tried to listen but couldn't make out the words over the noise. From what he could tell, though, it seemed Nathaniel was endearing himself to her. Making out to be unsure of his situation and slightly a fool, Tithdaeron felt sure that Nathaniel would end up being able to win her over at least as a companion.

Just as Anika was finishing her tarot reading, a man approached her. He was definitely good looking, but Anika had learned quickly that beauty is only skin deep. She had the scars to prove that fact. She could not help but smile as he scrutinized her and her items. Obviously he wanted to ask a question about the future. Everyone who came across a gypsy did.

The man had asked his questioned and turned away before Anika could even answer. She threw her hand out quickly and softly grasped his hand to get him to stop. He was so sweet and his being timid only made him sweeter " Yes, I guess I could be called a psychic. Sit down with me and I will see what I can do for you, free of charge."

She took another sip of her wine and dug through her pack, pulling out a map of Ea, a dagger, and a necklace with a clear crystal dangling from the silver chain. Anika did all this without taking her eyes off the man. She let her all seeing eyes bore into him, trying to read him the best she could. All she was getting though was a shy goodhearted man.

After everything she needed was out, she shuffled her tarot cards and took his hand again, holding it tight " I can not talk to your mother if that is what you are looking for. I do not have that kind of power, and few do. I can however do a reading of her death and also tell you if her spirit has moved from this plane to the next."

Anika then closed her eyes and began to breath deeply. She let every thought escape her mind. She slowly began to block out all sounds, disregard all smells, letting her senses transcend herself and into a greater place, one that was closer to the cosmic design of life . Then she let one thought form in her mind, the death of this man's mother. She let his energy flow through her, letting it mix with her own power of foresight, before releasing this unseen power into the cards. All of this happened within a minute, a skill honed from years of practice.

Soon the cards were spread and all Anika had to do was interpret them. It was a five card spread with one center card and four surrounding ones, one in each direction. The center card was the Empress, obviously referring to the man's mother. The top card was Death, another obvious explanation. At the bottom was the Hanged Man. This card surprised Anika, for it meant that she had not just died, but had been killed. To the right of the Empress was the Wheel of Fortune, but it was upside down. This meant that bad luck had befallen her. This was obvious if she was dead. Anika was also quick to explain all of this to her acquaintance.

Finally she was down to the last card. She flipped the one left of the Empress, and it was the Page of Swords. Anika gasped and moved the cards away quickly, shuffling them all back into a uniform deck with her nimble fingers. She did not like what the cards had told her. It meant that her son was the one that put an end to her mother's life " Yo...you killed her...."

Nathaniel had turned slowly from her, his movements duller than usual so that she had ample time to reach across-- and, as hoped, the young woman had taken the bait. A soft hand with agile fingers slipped over his larger calloused one, his wider, stubbier hand a contrast to the agile and slender on on his. He spun on his heel easily, turning back to her to smile softly and allow his upkept teeth to show just barely. A hint that he was indeed capable of paying for a good deal of things, and that his hygiene mattered. The sad thing was that most men who cared enough to take such care of themselves usually had little care for partners, but even the cunning fox overlooked that. Hopefully, Anika would too.

"Are you sure? I... I wouldn't want to put you out..." His words were half mumbled as he pulled the wooden chair out, the chair's legs grinding along the wooden floor with an uneven creak. Nathaniel was careful as he sat down upon the finely carved bark, leaning against its back slowly. Though Kaima was respectable, they didn't make as much as Wilwarin or even Drital. This lack of funding allowed for some upkeep, such as clean beds and warm food, but the manager was so generous to strangers short a coin, and this place was so rarely crowded, and workmanship had fallen below par with some of these seats. Instead of tossing old ones and replacing them, they kept them until they were absolutely beyond reason. One had to be careful, or the snapping of wood would be the only warning before you landed on the hard plank floor. Never a charming place to end up.

Oh, Drital and Wilwarin certainly had their share of bad seats too. The managers, hoping to save, would refuse to replace chairs once they'd been out for a certain date or, worse, would have some crackpot "repair them" so the shattered frames might be used once more. Many a bar fight had involved one member wielding a snapped chair leg, and typically it had come off with ease. When Nathaniel had been part of the city guard, he'd hated dealing with the men wielding the things like clubs. Large and bulky, they hurt a lot when they clocked you on the head with their makeshift weaponry.

With painful memories swimming like tadpoles, he descended upon the seat with wariness, shifting his weight back and forth on it carefully to get comfortable. Being 6'2 not many chairs were comfortable, and it was hard to find a way to tuck his legs under the chair comfortable, while also keeping a decent posture. His awkward movements and bad choice would wave a flag to anyone that'd been there for a while, for they would know which chairs to avoid and thus be free such an embarrassment. That, and difficulty getting comfortable quickly, labeled him new to this bar. Not that he could care much, considering how slow and languid his movements were (as opposed to a hasty shuffle that would draw more eyes)

Thankfully he was not new to bars in general, and when he did find his place he stopped moving entirely and looked completely natural. With trained ease he slouched forward, back arching forwards as he leaned over the table. Forearms, hidden within his jack, were rested on a piece of dark wood not currently occupied by bones or cars. Nathaniel, now seated in as much splendor as possible, gave a winning smile and looked to her with eager eyes, waiting for her to speak.

"I can not talk to your mother if that is what you are looking for. I do not have that kind of power, and few do. I can however do a reading of her death and also tell you if her spirit has moved from this plane to the next." Nathaniel nodded slowly, lips pursing as he watched her. "I'd... I'd appreciate it." A warm smile from a seemingly kind man. True, he held the rugged edges of a man caught in battle many times, but it seemed entirely likely he was fighting "the good fight". Not only because he was persuasive, but also because he truly believed he did. His hope in life was to anihilate the other races, so that humans may rule supreme and not worry about being made servants to the more stronger ones.

Imagine training a lupine as a guard dog.

As with many things the ideal was noble but the method was brutal, and because of this he would fall in the category of unsavory, if not evil. He chose to kill other races regardless of their morals, intellect, or status. Those he couldn't kill, either because they were too strong or he deemed them more useful in life, were trained as hounds and sent to kill their own kind. Usually these were haflings he sent on such journeys, for the human in them was enough to convince him to bare their presence. Other times they were more humanoid races that did not presently pose a threat to humanity; elves, dwarves, stars. They would all breath their last in time (by his hand if he had any say in it), but, as with half bloods, he could bare to be around them for a short while.

Of course, Nathaniel was more clever than to outright strike his targets, or to make a scene to attract a lot of attention. He'd learned his lesson years ago, when he'd been stripped of ranks and titles like a pig-nosed child tears the wings off a fly. He'd survived his hiding underground though, had eventually been able to stop using an alias and return to his honourable name. No self-respecting man would call him Lord or deem him noble, but the traces of such blood still followed him. Subtle gestures, ways of speech. It proved useful for gathering others to his cause, and back in the day he'd even managed to hire a tutor that taught him the basics of literary. During that time he composed a plan of eradication, on who he would annihilate, how, and in what order.

Which was why he had taken a rather interesting initiative as of late. Normally he was left cleanign up the messes of demons; trying to help the injured, chasing when he could but backing off if it saved lives. Now, though, he was done with chasing. He'd found himself a violent chaos elemental; so violent the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and it took a great deal of effort not to thrust his blade in and out of the other. On the other hand, the chaotic aspect of him was drawn, like a fly to honey. It was akin to obsession, but it was so much deeper than that, as if his very soul was brought to life whenever around the other. It was almost like a perverted love, though without any of the tender emotions asociated with it. A bestial, powerful connection.

And then there was this one. This young woman, who he'd come into word was a psychic. If true, she could be an incredible asset. He could use her to predict the locations of targets; no longer would he settle for gutter meat, oh no. Now he could go after the big fries, topple villages and whole hierarchies if he was precise with his attacks. It also meant he could try to recruit, perhaps even build an army of his own. He had tried that once before, but the failure had almost cost him his life. Now, with the powerful ally Nobunaga and the attractive (for all the wrong reasons) Tith, Nathaniel felt he could succeed. And, if this woman truly was as powerful as claims made her out to be, well... it'd be quite the army to reckon with.

Nathaniel snapped back to reality when the woman gasped, looking down at the cards then back to her face in confusion. She'd been talking, and he'd listened only with half a mind. Something of bad luck, and dying before her time? All true, though given his appearance and the fact he asked that could have easily been deduced by anyone good with people. However, the expression on her face made his stomach tense. "Yo... you killed her..." He paused, frowning and leaning back as she shuffled her cards together. It was indeed true, though he hadn't taken any pleasure in the act. It had been his duty to stop the scurge of his wicked mother, even if she'd been perplexingly kind to him and "forgiven him". Forgiven him? For what?? What did that even mean???

But this was no time for such outbursts or pouring of emotion. He had a job to do. Dark blue eyes slipped submissively to the table, the dark wood suddenly stark without the cards spread against it. "I... I did, yes. It's true." Nathaniel shifted his arms, his hands knitting together as his fingers interlaced amongst themselves. Slowly he looked up at her again, a simple angling of the neck. "But you must realize, she... She was very sick in the end. Terribly sick." His voice took on a distant quality, and he leaned back in the chair as far as he was willing to risk. "She couldn't eat. She couldn't drink. It.... it was so bad she couldn't even go out in the light of day." His lip quivered, though it was all practiced and false -- not that anyone possessing less than an empathy skill would see through such. "I wanted to free her. I couldn't stand to watch her wither away. She was the only woman I ever loved." From the way he spoke it was hard to tell she had become a vampire, and not merely infected by a plague. This was one of the common workings of Nathaniel; one of the word games he'd so perfected.

Once more, Nathaniel's love did not refer to the carnal acts of flesh. The simple gift of love and cherishment, of safety was enough. A mother's love was a powerful thing indeed. In a way what he spoke of was true, for he did believe that a vampire was an unholy twist of human and was little more than a corpse with power. She'd been the first creature he'd killed with the open desire to annihilate the race she'd assimilated into; and she'd forgiven her son without a thought. On her death bed he was still her child, and she would still absolve him of any sin, ignorant to anything less than perfection in him. It was a pity he was not aware of this; though sometimes, in the dead of night when only the wind howled, his eyes would glisten faintly as taunting whispers raced through his mind.

She had not needed to attack or punish him. Just living was punishment enough. Normally he forced such dreadful thoughts out, self-confidence and arrogance oozing over the doubt. But it did rise now and again, and perhaps it was why he, like his father, had turned so readily to whatever drink a crown could fetch him at the dead of night.

"I would never have done anything to harm her..." He reached across slowly for her hands, his own trembling just barely from the chilled memories, and his mannerisms spoke of trying to take her warm, soft ones in his own rough, torn ones. Dark blue eyes stared intently into mismatched ones, the bitter hints of hope in his own. He was trying to make a connection, and this would either secure her to his side or banish her from it. Once again, the ball was in her court.

Anika knew that it was not good to jump to conclusions so quickly. She had done it before and got caught with egg on her face. This was another one of those times. She had thought this timid man a sick man for killing his mother, but he did his killing out of love.

Family struck a nerve in Anika, for that was the one thing her body longed for most. She desired love and human contact more than food and water. Her own mother had sacrificed her life to save Anika. This man did very much the same thing. He had to sacrifice being with his mother to save her from the crippling disease that waged war on her body. It was a brave and loving act indeed to be able to let someone so close to you go like that.

When the man clung to her hand and looked into her eyes, she grew weak. What was she to do. Her throat became dry and a lump built up in it as she held back tears. She could relate to his troubles so closely, yet she did not know him at all. She wanted to so bad to just reach over and hold him, but knew that someone of his status would find it rather uncomfortable. A few warm tears ran down her soft cheeks as the connection was too much for Anika. She traveled so often so that she could not get close to people and she did not get close to people so that they wouldn't leave her or be taken from her. She had never felt human contact like this. She did not dare to break the gaze between them, in fear that she would never be able to have this feeling again.

She had to do something though. He was leaning on her for support and she had nothing to offer. Finally she spoke up, swallowing hard just to be able to emit the softest of voices " Well I will see if your mother's spirit has moved from this world to another plane of existence, a better place..." With her free hand she grabbed her dagger and turned her friend's hand over quickly, giving him the lightest prick, just deep enough for a drop of blood to swell on the tip. She then took his finger and dropped the blood into a small bowl of water, staining the clear liquid a light hew of red. She then took her clear crystal necklace and dipped it into the water. The next thing she did was hold the necklace over the map of Ea she had spread out in front of her. She closed her eyes and let the crystal dangle, moving it in a clockwise rotation. She held into her new friend's hand and focused on his mother. She let the blood on her crystal be a focus. It was trying to hone in on her blood, her soul.

A good ten minutes passed and the crystal did nothing. This may have looked bad, but it made Anika smile, for this meant that his mother had passed on, for her soul could not be located anywhere in this plane of existence. She was quick to tell him this and more " I do not want your money, but rather your name good sir..."

Tithdaeron observed with a small amount of interest as the woman spread out her tools for scrying use. It seemed she used some cards, a few emblems, and a crystal. Interesting. All token items of any fortune teller or scrying person. However, Tithdaeron thought it a bit of a sham, as he too was a psychic in some respects. The future telling, as far as he was concerned, was all a crock. However, seeing into a persons mind was an entirely plausible thing. And that was where the most valuable information came from.

Especially from the minds of enemies, and soon, if everything went to plan, Tithdaeron would track down his betrayers and make them pay for what they did to him so long ago. Yes, they would pay dearly. The thought of them, begging for mercy at his feet, afforded him a slight smile as he reached down and picked up another hearty potato chunk to devour.

The chaos elemental was so caught up in his imagination that he forgot to chew, and ended up choking slightly on the potato before recovering. He looked around quickly, but then remembered that compared to the drunks all about him, that was relatively minor. He sighed, and his interested piqued when he noticed the shocked expression that Anika portrayed breifly. She quickly put away the cards after having flipped the last one. Interested in, not only what the card had been, but also interested in her own ability, Tithdaeron decided upon a test.

As she was speaking to Nathaniel, Tithdaeron used his telepathy powers to read the surface thoughts of Anika's mind. If she was sensitive enough, she might notice the brief intrusion. He would know soon enough.

The Page of Swords? Then that meant... interesting. If this nonsense ever was true, then it meant Nathaniel had slain whomever he had inquired about, considering the order of the preceding cards. And judging by the empress, it was a female figure. Who it was, Tithdaeron couldn't be sure, but perhaps it told of Anika's own fate.

Nevertheless, Nathaniel, ever the good actor, recovered from it by acting sad. It worked, and soon Anika was showing empathy for him. It was at this moment that the chaos elemental decided to introduce his current character. Getting up from his chair and strolling over with large, heavy steps, Tithdaeron approached from the side. "So, didja find what there then happened to yer mum?" he asked in his best farmer's drawl. "She dun passed on?"

There is a time in everyone's life when they feel accomplished. For most people it is something that rolls around more than once, and always it leaves the same swelling of pride beneath one's breast. All the weight of gravity dissapears, and shoulders go slack as tensions ease. It is a powerful feeling, and immediately you can tell who has induced such splendor. Bright eyes, an almost glow to their skin and a chin raised high in pride. Even the lowliest of filth, hobbling through back alleys, could look as though they were as fit as kings when such a cleansing emotion washed over their lanky, dirty frames. Nathaniel had a similar beam to him right now, and it was almost enough to give him away. If it weren't for the fact it looked entirelyidentical to a man who had just been given some of the best news in his life, spirit lifted.

"You... you're far too kind, my lady. I could never hope to repay this..." Nathaniel's voice was soft, a quiet whisper. Like some ancient cult member whispering by a lit candle, voice hushed low to keep catastrophic words from being overheard or repeated. His eyes were slightly glossy, whispering of tears that would not fall, and when she spoke he squeezed her smaller hands lightly in his own. So easy... and yet, so beautiful, as well. This was a wise decision. Never once did his dark eyes leave hers as she spoke, and rather than break what lingered of her melodious voice he nodded, agreeing to her offer to ensure his mother had left this plane. Nathaniel suspected as much --hoped for as much, but didn't dare stop her.

Slowly one of her hands slid free of his, and Nathaniel drew in a breath as he feared both would be lost. However, the hand remained and it was not unlike a metaphor for the connection he was currently trying to stabilize with her. His attention fell from her soft features and captivating eyes to her lips, where upon they fell even further to her hand. She took up a chain, and upon the end of it dangled a blood red diamond. It looked like a stone carved from someone's beating body, and distantly he couldn't help but replay certain dark memories in his mind, the slow swirl of the diamond above the map hypnotic and soothing in some odd fashion.

He'd done it. He'd driven his blade straight through the belly of the beast, starting low by the hips and pulling up. The beast had collapsed against his larger frame, and though it took strong jerks he managed to pull the blade high up, where the clavicle began. The beast whispered softly against his neck, and for a moment he thought that in its dying breath it would tear into his throat. So much the better though, for if his dying breath was to be brought in as he killed a foul demon then it would truly be justice, and his soul might sleep easy. The creature, unfortunately, had other ideas; with torn nails it grasped at his shoulders futiley, pulling itself as high as it could against him, Raking breaths shuddered through its body, blood descending from the gaping wound. When it drew high enough up on his frame it ensnared a hand behind his neck, drawing lips that were once a bruised purple and now ruby red close to his ear.

Red smeared on his flesh as hoarse words trailed from the petite mouth. "I forgive you, my son. I always will." Then the tiny frame, wracked with shudders and quakes, sighed blissfully into the crook of his neck and stilled. The beast's frame was tiny against his, and he could have likely carried her as if she were a child in his arms. There was a handsome beauty about her, something strong and fierce and entirely natural. Now she held none of that strength or will, and her ghastly pale frame looked like any other wench to be found slain in some village.

Carefully, with a gentleness that contradicted the brutal violence he'd commited, he set the frame down upon the cobbled ground. It was hard, but he had forgotten the shade of a crypt's basement, and though he knew the walls felt tight and webs slung all through the place his memory brought forth no images save that of the fallen creature. So like a doe, so peaceful. Her beautiful dress stained from the wound, her dark lips smeared red and hair like a pool of living shadow. Nathaniel might have been content to leave her there, as he withdrew his glistening blade that held the filth and foul disease of a vampire upon it. A shout from the entrance way (was it arc, there? no, perhaps a stair case...) drew his attention and brought him from his silent stupor.

"Nathaniel??! What have you done?!" Another beast, just like the one upon the floor. Like the one he'd slain it wore the meat of another, though thankfully it was not the body of any he knew before the disease ravaged them. She wasn't quite as small as his mother, built with sinewy muscles and a strong frame that spoke of a life full of athleticism, even in these days where women were frowned upon for such activities. She had engaged in the taboo act of loving this woman as well, the crazy beast not content in a life already hardened with sins of blood. He would not stand for it, and as she raced over towards her fallen lover (mate? cohort?) he--

Wait. Anika was saying something. The soft voice brought him back to the present, and he blinked away his thoughts and offered another charming smile. "She's passed? That.. that is good then. Thank you." His voice was only slightly gruff, sounding as if he were unprepared for the revelation. In truth, the more she'd daddled with the object the more chilled he felt, the faintest flecks of fear fingering his spirit. "My name... I..." He smiled to the side, as if embarressed to share it. "I am Nathan. Nathan Rystoff. And you, my good lady, who even if I gifted with the stars I could not thank enough?" Before he could hear her answer another voice chimed in, one he knew all to well.

The demon. The smile turned to an apologetic one towards the psychic, and he half turned in his seat (never releasing her one hand, of course) and nodded to Tithdaeron's disguise. "Yes.... she.. she has." Dark eyes found themselves on mismatching orbs once more. "I was just telling this young woman I can't thank her enough... she's been far too kind to me already."

Anika felt pleasure in helping her new friend, Nathaniel. When he smiled at her the way he did, she felt the cold inside her begin to disappear. It was a feeling that she could get lost within, and in fact she did. The only thing that took her out of the cheery thoughts was a vision she had received. It took her breath away as each vision did when she was graced by them.

All that she seen was a gruff man, nothing more than a poor farmer by the looks of him, walked over to their table looking as if he knew Nathaniel. This vision was sparked by the mind reading, but this was unknown to Anika. All she knew is that she had the vision and it meant something.

Her eyes soon came back to reality, immediately searching for who her vision showed. He was not hard to find for the stranger was already walking their way. This made Anika slip away from Nathaniel. She became a bit wary, wanting to wait and see what her vision had meant.

That is when the man began to talk "So, didja find what there then happened to yer mum?" he asked in his best farmer's drawl. "She dun passed on?" So this man did know Nathaniel. It was quite odd though for this man was a brute and Nathaniel looked so sweet and sophisticated.

Thoughts began to shuffle through her mind. Why had she seen such a mundane vision. Usually her foresight happened unwillingly when there was something important for her to see, but what she had seen did not seem important at all.

She was drawn out of those thoughts when a new one came to the forefront. She had not told Nathaniel her name. She blushed lightly and turned away from the stranger and towards her friend " My name is Anika Moore. It was an honor to help you try to come to peace with your mother. You do not owe me a thing." She felt a bit jealous that this foolish farmer knew of the circumstances as well. In a way she had wanted her special moment to be between only her and Nathaniel. She knew it was wrong to find a pleasure from the pain Nate was going through, but she could not help herself.

"Anika... a fitting name." Nathaniel's lips curled up pleasantly, playing the part. His dark eyes were soft, like a midnight pond or the softest velvet. "But... I can't simply leave you here. Let me at least pay for your food and drink." The tone was urging but slow, almost reluctant. Play the part of the mouse. Let her think she's in control. Chains could bind a man but they could just as swiftly be his strength; in this case he intended to utilize the latter. Pausing momentarily, he seemed to be swept up in thought. Then he turned on his chair, the legs groaning softly as he looked to his companion. "Do you think she might accompany us, my friend? I'm sure she'd enjoy it," Nathaniel looked back to Anika, giving a warm smile. "And it is the only way I can think of helping you. I couldn't imagine going on knowing I owe as sweet a lass as you."

There were loud noises from another table, the group of men there jostling each other and more or less paying attention. Intrigued by the going-abouts of absolute strangers, apparently. Nathaniel paid them no heed, though he would undoubtedly enjoy running into them on a dark night. It was odd being around anyone these days, and he wasn't used to attention being drawn when he wasn't trying to pry it from others. Sure he went off on long drunken tangents when he drank, but that was hardly the same. Most people tuned him out even further when that happened. No doubt because they had absolutely no taste, save for the rubbish some greying man with a beard to his ankles horked up into the fire.

Still, Rystoff kept a friendly face. As for the trip... well, it wasn't a trip at all. His ally, Tithdaeron, no doubt knew Nathaniel was playing a game. Or so he hoped, else this could fall apart. Indeed, he just wanted to try and further line his pocket with the young woman, and if that meant promising a trip, well, what was the harm in that? If she agreed, they could simply go on a little hunting trip. Yes, they could put her powers to use, to find out if any wretches were lumbering around. It would be no difficulty to dispatch them, but with her they could even try to know details such as location and amount of friends. If she was wrong then she would have outlived her usefulness and he would conveniently vanish; if not, well, they were just getting started.

At that moment a man near the counter struck up a song, singing about his bottle of rum. Nathaniel sighed softly, his voice a more gentle lull than what was normally comfortable for him. "It's a.. tad loud in hre, don't you think?" He mustered the best apologetic smile he could. "Would you mind joining me outside, so we could talk some more? Unless you'd rather talk on that trip..." His cheeks went warm, features thrown into a soft light as he tried to encourage her to say yes. There was no hiding the fact he wanted her to come with him, and that seemed the right approach to take. Perhaps he could get her to come out of sympathy, if nothing else... Once again he could only smile at her.

There really wasnt much to go on at the moment, and Tithdaeron somewhat liked it that way. Nathaniel was doing most of the work here. Tithdaeron knew that later, however, it would not be possible for Nathaniel to constantly be present with Anika. So, he remained relatively quiet and ever the good student. Constantly paying attention to Nathaniel's mannerisms, his way of speaking. His looks, the way he reacted to certain situations. All this information was being jotted down in his mental archives, in order to properly recreate Nathaniel.

Anika was certainly somewhat attracted to Nathaniel by now, and as he worked his magic over her Tithdaeron continued to glean what information he could. It wasn't much though, and while the chaos elemental was capable of reading her surface thoughts, she was capable of detecting it. Or at least it seemed that way, for not long after he started eavesdropping, she began to receive visions.

Remaining calm, and hiding behind his facade of dim-witedness, Tithdaeron thought it best to stop for now. Retreating behind the barriers of his minds, he was now more able to concentrate on the situation at hand. To anyone else it seemed as if the farmer had temporarily "spaced-out". Perhaps this was the reason that a group of men, not to far from the trio, were now staring.

It could have been that Tithdaeron was inadvertantly staring at them first. Regardless, he did not consider it a concern. If they caused trouble, dispatched them would be easy and entertaining.

Nathaniel seemed to notice this too, and so asked Anika if she wanted to go outside with them. Since it was, afterall, quite loud and perturbing in the establishment at the moment. Not at all a good environment to instill romantic feelings.

In an attempt to reinforce this suggestion, Tithdaeron decided to chime in. "Uhh... boss." he whispered, as he leaned to the side a little and cupped his hand over his mouth. Who knew what sorts of people might be lip reading, afterall? "Those boys are lookin' to start some trouble I reckon... best we should be goin' now."