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year 5, quarter 3
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Rain battered the window in sheets. Ardyn could feel the glass tremble beneath his fingers, rattling in its frame against the force of gale winds and the pummeling of hail. The streets themselves were empty but for the water streaking past in muddied streams. The Reignstorm, he’d heard it called. An apocalyptic harbinger of disaster, killer of hundreds and bane to civilized existence.
Ardyn couldn’t have been more excited.
The last Reignstorm, he’d heard, had washed away whole buildings in its path. There had been great strikes of thunder, wind that could tear walls from foundation, and rains like Leviathan herself had descended upon them. The winds would bury the innocent in debris. The floods would snatch away children, screaming in its greedy currents. With the sun obscured by the storm, there would hardly be a streak of sunlight in the sky – perfect for any daemons that might arise in the chaos.
“Oh, how exhilarating!” Ardyn sighed the words to himself, almost wistful. “To be a part of history! How long did you say these stormy spells would last?”
The man beside him a dry look. ”A few days, probably. It won’t be blue for a while at least.”
”How excellent! Then I’ll have the chance to watch!” Ardyn eyed the window happily, ignoring the man at his side. The bar was packed with those seeking shelter, though few had the courage or appetite to order anything. It was a haven now for those lost in the storm, waiting tense and idle for enough of a break to flee home. For the most part, they didn’t speak in more than tense whispers over the howling wind outside, but Ardyn didn’t mind being overheard. He was far too elated to contain himself – subtle or not – and he so loved an audience.
”You know, I’ve missed most of the interesting happenings here. Did you hear of that business in Torensten? With the dragons? So exciting. A shame it came before my time.” Ardyn pressed his palm against the window. The glass was cool beneath his fingers, trembling on the precipice between safety and disaster. He could feel the man’s scorn without looking at him.
”People died there, you know.” The man crossed his arms with a distasteful scowl. He was still wearing the apron from his last shift at the restaurant, though Ardyn couldn’t say why he’d stayed. Perhaps it was to stay out of the storm. Perhaps it was just for the company. Ardyn gave him a saddened look, eyes wide and mournful.
”Oh yes. How very tragic. All of those innocent lives!” He sighed dramatically before glancing again at the storm. ”Still. It must have been quite the event…”
The man let out an exasperated grunt before turning to leave him. Ardyn heard mutterings of kicking him out among the bar staff, but he wasn’t worried. The storm couldn’t do more than carry him away, and when he resurfaced, it would be to a new kind of strife. Floods were a perfect vector of disease, and with dozens in the city infected already, the tainted water would turn his plague into an epidemic. Ardyn sighed and leaned his shoulder against the window, tilting his head to the glass until he could hear every crash of thunder like a drumline in his ear. “Such a pity.” The storm raged on beyond that plate of glass. He was nothing more than an observer with dampened bangs and unmuddied hands.
'Hey, Lightning?' Drip... drip... drip... 'We'll be able to be together again... Right?' Drip... 'When all of this is over?' Drip...
The ash that had evaporated from her skin by the touch of that holy blast had begun to regrow what it could on its own. That girl, the one with the red bow in her hair, she was a new piece in the game to figure out a way around. Or through. Her young follower had befriended her it seemed while continuing to try her luck against whatever value this host had to her in some past life. She was gone now; chained and locked in the back of the mind that the Chaos now filled. There would be a day when she'd wither away for good, all in time.
Drip... The healing skin along the side of her arm and face was trying to solidify from its dusty death to a charcoal ooze, occasionally dropping in the pool of dirty water in this drain she'd found to seclude herself in until she had proper strength to go hunt for more. The Mana she'd collected from the temple at Metaia was waiting to be tapped into if only she could muster the vitality. Her good arm unbent and stretched out towards a mangled corpse that was set hunched beside her leaning form over the water. She tugged it to her lap and pressed her hand to the flat part of its skull. Whatever disease it had she hadn't come across the likes before in this land. It was... foreign. Strong. Almost addictive.
And it was healing her.
Once the parasite had caught a taste of it, it'd begun to trace the source. The floods had slowed her down and made her impatient but still she pressed onward. Its roots were near, she could feel them pulsating like veins out to their infected victims. Soon, she'd have it, and then the Holy wielder and that little, red-haired bitch wouldn't be able to do a single thing about the Mana she'd drained into herself. With lips slightly parted, the corpse began to sink into itself - all moisture and chaotic life leaving with what fractured essence was left within it - and a wisp of smoke trailed into her mouth.
Her neck rolled, popping in a few places as the skin along her cheek and jaw solidified back to a pale, soft texture; her arm shortly following suit. With an annoyed shove, the corpse left her lap and she stood from the small puddle to leave the gutter behind. There was no one in the street to stop her - vacant of any living soul that didn't wish to get caught in the storm that whipped her hair through the wind and drenched her from head to toe. Closer... closer... closer... There was no hesitation. The door broke open and a second of quiet confusion passed for those inside before the crimson blade flashed within her grip and planted in and straight through the stomach of the nearest man. Not him... but here.
"Hnnrrr," a small scowl of disapproval lifted a side of her mouth and the man gargled the blood that'd built in his throat before finally sinking to the floor when she'd let him slide from the sword. Her maroon eyes scanned for the next target amid the now-panicking citizens within. One woman was shoved out of the way as she took another step in, crashing a chair or two as she collapsed to the ground from the force that had been calmly exuded against her. Where was it? The leer was hungrier now, shifting quickly from person to shouting person.
Time passed. The storm raged on. And Ardyn had not, as of yet, been forcibly thrown out of the bar.
Ardyn considered that a victory in itself, and to celebrate, he’d sauntered to the bartender, perched on one of the stools, and ordered a bottle of wine. “We’ve already closed,” they told him, but he only scoffed and gestured to the crowd huddled in leather booths and back hallways. “Oh nonsense. With all the company you have?” He waved his hand dismissively. “We’ll need something to pass the time, won’t we?”
Whether they’d listened to his point or simply wanted to avoid trouble, they brought him what he wanted when he flashed them the money for it – twice what was listed on the board, though he pretended not to notice. After fifteen minutes of negotiations, he was left with a bottle of cherry wine and a musty glass that they hadn’t bothered to clean properly. He took it without complaint and sipped thoughtfully with his ankle resting on one knee and his back leaned against the bar counter. Outside, the storm had already worsened, though he couldn’t see much farther than two feet from the glass. There was too much rain, too much debris, and too little light.
In other words, beautiful. Ardyn rolled sweet wine on his tongue and relished the fearful whispers and gale winds in the darkness. One day, the whole world would be nothing but this -- shadows, detritus, and silence. He closed his eyes and imagined it.
The lumbering of daemonic footsteps.
The smell of fetid water, muddled with corruption.
The distant clash of swordstrikes in blighted flesh.
There was a sudden crack and his skin prickled with wood splinters and debris. Ardyn opened his eyes to see a splatter of blood on the end of a crimson sword. The bar had erupted in screams and the scrabbling of panicked footsteps – barely audible over the howl of a storm no longer kept at bay. And standing in the middle of it all in the hole that had once been a door was a woman clad in armor black as daemon’s blight.
Ardyn tilted his head as he appraised her – all sharp edges and metal corners like a storybook reaper of the damned. She flicked the blood from her sword then started forward, each step rattling the floor as her eyes raked over her victims like a tiger in a pen of sheep. Ardyn sipped his wine, downing half, before raising the glass and appraising it.
“Such a pity. It seems that’s the last I’ll have tonight.” He shot the woman a sideways glance. “Unless you would care to join me? I have far too much for myself, and could use the company.” He swirled the wine in his glass before finishing the rest and setting it carefully on the counter. His voice pierced the bar’s newfound silence as dozens of eyes froze on him, breathless. He could feel the warning in their stares – Stay quiet. Don’t antagonize her. Are you mad? – but he just gave her a haughty wave of his hand, smirking faintly.
”It must be so tiring running about, doing all that killing. Why don’t you relax that fierce face of yours?” He picked up the bottle and raised it to her, winking. “It’s far more palatable than blood.”
Every set of eyes in the makeshift shelter of a bar was glued to her in horror and silent panic. Every held breath kept still as if letting go would somehow seal their doom. The Chaos took one step in, parting the crowd and giving her room to examine while entering the building further. Another step had her gaze shifting elsewhere. Closer. One of these pathetic flesh heaps was the source.
A loud, collective gasp broke the painful silence when her hand shot out and pressed to the side of a woman's face, the blood on her glove from the run-through man painting her olive skin. The leather glove allowed her hand to pull the skin taught and get an unguarded look into the disgusting girl's eyes. A moment of quiet would have passed if not for the heavy, shaken breathing of her victim. A scowl grew on her face again and she shoved the woman harshly aside and onto the ground before stepping over her to find her next subject.
"Such a pity. It seems that’s the last I’ll have tonight."
Slowly, she looked over the shoulder of a short boy that swallowed and stepped to the side, as all the rest did, and made a clear line of sight to the man that'd spoken out. For now, her face remained unchanged. "Unless you would care to join me? I have far too much for myself, and could use the company." Arrogant. Selfish. Isolated. Confident. Her head gave the slightest tilt as she examined both his mannerisms and the way he spoke. Eyebrows tilted barely down and closer together than they'd been before - a sterner appearance in her analysis.
Many had begun to slowly step from the line of sight, now a path appearing, and watched carefully between the two. "It must be so tiring running about, doing all that killing. Why don’t you relax that fierce face of yours?" Gaudy. Braggart. Intellectual. Impulsive. That was it... the source of whatever dark sickness could feed her so quickly, so easily. "It’s far more palatable than blood."
The wink of his eye was all the time she needed to vanish from the air and appear inches before him in a small flash of rose-colored light. Her hand gripped over his on the bottle, her sword held at her side, and she looked to his eyes. No... through his eyes; into him, past him. There it was, the circling essence that she could nearly taste just from its power. It began and ended within itself. It was a being on its own - all of it - not just some thing he controlled. It was him. "For some," her low voice answered his overly casual comment though her face spoke much more in its studying. "I'm after something else you have to offer me. This... sickness."
Her eyes were at a laser focus as he spoke. Heated. Urgent. Inhuman. They seemed to bore through him with an almost supernatural precision. For all of his talk, her composure didn’t waver. No odd looks. No subtle tilts of the head. Not even anger, though her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. Frustration. That was all she was willing to offer him in return for his casual conversation.
He winked and she’d disappeared. One moment there, the next only six inches from his face with a grip on his hand like a bird of prey. Ardyn blinked in mild surprise. It seemed she could warp. ’Oh how very interesting.’
”For some.” The woman spoke slowly and with such deadly intensity that her tone itself might have eviscerated him. Ardyn smirked as her eyes narrowed, tilting up his chin to better meet her eyes. They offered him nothing but the promise of death – quick and efficient. He mocked them. ”I’m after something else you have to offer me. This…sickness.” She glanced over him with a kind of longing. A hunger. Ardyn’s smirk widened.
”How forward of you.” He leaned towards hers, tilting his head as though to offer her his exposed neck. ”But you’ll have to be more specific. There are so many sicknesses I could offer.” Ardyn readjusted his grip on the bottle until his index finger had snaked between her grasp. He slid it slowly down the back of her hand. ”Won’t you let me go so that we can discuss it? Over wine, perhaps?” His eyes burned with dark amusement. Their lips were only inches apart -- their eyes slightly closer. He glanced from her eyes to her sword before leaning back against the counter with an almost haughty sigh.
”Though I’ll have you know that I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” He chuckled softly, tossing his head to the side. ”And I tend not to lose what’s rightfully mine.”
Why on earth the strange man had thought it wise or beneficial to him to continue with his egotistical jesting, after it had so clearly not worked before, made her question whether or not he was even capable of answering the questions she had or giving her what she required of him. Either he was the world's token idiot or far more intelligent than he let on. Judging by her lack of enough impatience to want to slice him in two just yet, she supposed the latter. For now.
Even with his neck extending towards her, his face close enough to feel the small releases of breath from his nose between statements, she remained steadfast and still. This was not a response she'd encountered yet in her ventures across this horrid land. His confidence was annoying often, but the times it intrigued her was what kept her sword at bay for the chance to hear where he'd go next with his words. The finger made her grimace with minor distaste and she kept her hand where it was until he'd finished his dramatic display. Finally, in agreement, she released her grip and instead brought the hand between them where she held it open with relaxed, claw-like fingers and palm up towards the ceiling.
"I tire quickly of games." A warning. For now. The hand manifested a small amount of ashen death, breathing for a moment on its own before hissing quietly out of life and falling back through her palm. The plague was within her, but she could not make it grow. "I couldn't care less what you tend to do," her outstretched hand remained and she tilted her chin to a higher angle - both relaxed and demanding.
If he decided that dancing around the subject with vocal and suave tone decor was going to be his only response again, then the blade was her next option. An interesting soul though, his. Through this woman's eyes, the chaos could see it in a constant auto-feeding spiral. Never-ending. How annoying... Without a sound or a blinking eye in the tavern, her hand dropped down to her side and her tone sharpened. "Make more."
Surprisingly, the woman did as he asked though she didn’t seem happy about it. Ardyn raised an eyebrow as his hand was released. He couldn’t tell which had proved more effective – his words or his unsettling advances. If he had to guess, it was likely the second. Her eyes reflected nothing but contempt and disgust.
She held her hand out in front of her as though cradling an invisible flame. ”I tire quickly of games.” The words weren’t a threat – but a warning. Ardyn eyed her palm curiously, wondering what manner of deadly magic would erupt from it in a feeble attempt to intimidate him. He’d expected light – something flashy and explosive to tear him apart.
What he saw instead was darkness.
His eyes widened. His body froze. For one long moment, his expression faltered as it hadn’t for over half a millennia. The darkness flickered before him in slow, creeping movements like tendrils of sentient shadow evaporating in the sun. There was no mistaking the thing in front of him – the stale, corrosive power that had haunted him since his last days as a mortal and which stirred sickeningly within him even now.
This woman carried Ifrit’s blight.
As quickly as it had come, the darkness hissed and retreated inside her. Her eyes simmered with deadly heat. ”I couldn’t care less what you tend to do.” She didn’t lower her hand. Didn’t move towards him. Instead, she stared him down, angling her chin victoriously as Ardyn stared at her without comprehension.
How in Ifrit’s name had she managed to control his corruption?
Her eyes cooled to slits. Her voice could have chilled the dead as she gave him her final proposition. ”Make more.”
Ardyn blinked slowly -- once, twice, as those two words processed. Make more. Make more what? Plague? But why on earth would anyone want more of that? Not unless-…
He was laughing before the thought could land. A slow, dark laugh that simmered in the yellow of his eyes. He shook his head and pushed off from the bar stool, strolling past her in complete disregard of her sword. ”Have you heard of the story of Tantalus? He was a proud man who desired the immortal elixirs of the gods. But the gods cursed him for his greed and he soon found himself mired in water he could never reach beneath a fruit tree which would never satisfy him.” Ardyn stopped and tilted his head to cast her a sideways glance. ”Tell me, my dear.” His eyes flicked to hers. ”Which of the gods cursed you?”
Ardyn smirked. Her answer hardly mattered to him. These gods were foreign to him – as foreign as the world they inhabited. He shook his head and took a few more thoughtful, swaggering steps forward. The bar had fallen so silent that the click of his boots resounded like gunshots.
”Sadly, my curse isn’t something that can be freely made and given. It has a life of its own, you see, though it needs a host to thrive. If you so desire damnation, then allow me to propose an arrangement.” Ardyn stopped and turned to face her, eyes bright with malice. ”Help me spread this blight. In time, the power you desire will grow, and once the host has been twisted beyond recognition, it need only be harvested. You don’t seem like a woman who’d have any qualms about that.”
He tilted his head and shot her a smile that showed nearly all of his teeth. ”Well? What do you say?”
The laugh wasn't as surprising to her as it was to the horrified crowd that had pressed against one another like sardines as far away as they could from the two. Though he wasn't anymore with that twisted, fractured soul of his, he had been human once. Of course the habits and oddities would stick with him. Though she understood it she still grew impatient. What sickness she had consumed had been enough to pick her up but not quite enough to sustain her. Soon, very soon, she'd need more.
So he needed to shut his stupid, damn mouth and do as she said. And then he started with a story...
As he walked around her side, her sword remained where it was with the tip's edge hovering just above the wooden floor boards. She followed him with a slow turn to keep her body facing somewhat fully to his own. "Have you heard of the story of Tantalus?""No," her answer was blunt and clear; she didn't care. Even still... she told herself he had ten seconds to make whatever this was matter. If it didn't, she'd force him to move on.
The story was meaningless. Well, to her at least. He'd missed her purpose here, though it told her quite a bit about his own. A cursed man by powers above - which certainly explained the spirit coiling so strangely inside of him that she observed even now; like some slowly maneuvering and contemplative cobra. She was nearly about to respond with some two-cent comment about how idiotic such a man was until the question he posed to her made her eyes snap quickly to his own with attention. What god cursed her? How unfortunate that the woman couldn't answer him for herself.
With his want to fill the air again with his own voice, he turned to continue on. Though, this time, it was at least in a manner that the Chaos was eager to hear. Only her eyes followed him as he shifted the boundaries of the crowd with his proximity to them along the slow-moving path he traveled. Now there was what she'd been waiting for... Oh, she knew plenty about hosts. His disease thrived much like she did, though her hunger was much larger to sate in her sentience.
He turned to her, awaiting the answer that he already seemed to know after his proposal. Even though the offer was nothing but in her favor it still left a sour taste in her mouth that he had assumed the words that were nearly already out of her mouth. "Let's stop wasting time, then," she let a smooth sigh from her parted lips as she spoke, morphing the line of the tavern's inhabitants even more while walking past him and returning to the body in a pool of its own blood by the entrance.
"He's still here," she grimaced at the disgusting, pathetic carcass and lifted it with a single hand by the underneath area of his arm. With a simple toss, the body toppled to Ardyn's feet. "The soul. Use it and show me." whimpers began from a few women and a child behind her. How annoying... It didn't matter. If he did what she expected, all within the tavern would soon be fodder.
Ardyn held onto his smile for a long moment of silence, just watching her, head tilted and teeth shining in the fluorescent lights. Surrounding them was a crowd caught in rapt, horrified attention. Behind him, the storm howled like something alive and continued to pelt the open doorway with hail. It burst against the floor like machine gun fire – a thousand melting shards of ice. The woman took longer than she should have to respond. Her eyes flashed briefly with pain before she cleared her expression again and let out a short sigh. ”Let’s stop wasting time then.”
Ardyn straightened, beaming at her small concession. ”Indeed. There’s so little time to waste,” he said, but she’d already turned away from him. For a moment, Ardyn thought she was about to leave again as she started back towards the rain, but she stopped at the entrance, apathetic to the mist blowing through the doorway.
”He’s still here. The woman looked down at the water-logged corpse in disgust. Ardyn tilted his head and hummed in question, but she didn’t pay him any mind. Instead, she grabbed it, lifted it beneath the arm, and tossed it bodily towards him. There were several cries of alarm. The crowd shuffled away, and Ardyn blinked slowly as the corpse hit the ground and rolled to a stop at his feet. The impact had dislodged several feet of viscera from its opened stomach, and the smell alone was enough to wrinkle Ardyn’s nose in disgust.
”It isn’t polite to throw corpses at people, you know” he said. Ardyn was undead himself and even he had better taste than this. ”It’s often considered an insult.”
”The soul,” the woman demanded. ”Use it and show me.” Somewhere, someone had started crying. Several someones, it sounded like. Ardyn clicked his tongue.
”Have you no tact at all?” He took a few steps away from the corpse so as not to bloody his shoes. ”A host, by definition, must be alive.” Ardyn stopped to consider the crowd. They stared back at him in silent horror. If he infected them all, that would still give them ample time to spread legend of his name. He’d be known as a monster in days, but he supposed it hardly mattered. It was about time he moved on from Provo anyway.
”It’s a slow process. You must have patience. Ifrit’s corruption takes weeks to incubate and just as long to blossom.” Ardyn glanced at her over his shoulder to catch the most impatient expression he’d ever seen. And one of the twenty most violent. He sighed before quickly brightening his expression and turning to face her. ”Though I suppose I could help to carry you over. That is such a long time to wait, after all.”
He returned to the corpse and eyed it distastefully. Ifrit’s blight acted as a virus and wouldn’t grow on its own without life to feed on, but Ardyn himself could still control it and had more than enough stored inside him to morph it into something truly monstrous. He tilted his head, and corruption erupted under the body like a shadow. It took only a few seconds for the blight to find the corpse’s stomach wound. It crept over broken flaps of skin and flesh and flourished in the dark like a fungus. Work done, Ardyn shot the woman a dry smile and swept his arm into a short bow. ”A gift,” he said. The body twitched below him, someone screamed, and Ardyn took several steps back to admire his handiwork from afar.
The corpse gave a sharp jerk again before convulsing as though connected to electrical wires. It didn’t take long for the corruption to seep from first its stomach and then its nose and eyes. Its skin stretched and streaked with black. The viscous sludge overtook blood and viscera, compacting over the wound and quickly spreading over mottled flesh and limbs. The corpse’s chest shuddered, its throat gurgling with wet and rasping breaths as black bile bubbled over its lips. The crowd had scattered now – erupting in gasps and scrambling to get away from the thing while still others remained enraptured by the terrible sight before them. The corpse let out a terrible groan – something almost like a cry for help – before going suddenly still.
Then, as though on puppet’s strings, it arose.
Ardyn leaned against the bar counter, picking under his nails casually. If the woman hadn’t pressured him, he never would have wasted so much energy on a matter so small, but it was all bygones now. The crowd had frozen again, staring at the thing like rabbits before a fox. Ardyn tilted his head at them, smiled, and ordered, ”Attack.”
The monster lurched forward. Ardyn didn’t care to watch the carnage unfold. Instead he strolled over to the woman’s side and touched thoughtfully at this cheek. ”That should do it, wouldn’t you say?” He glanced over as the monster extended its new arm like a tentacle made of bile and knocked several panicking victims into a wall. ”Most of them will survive, but they’ll have a high chance of infection. Follow it and let it spread its corruption through the city. Then you can harvest what’s inside.”
He turned towards her, tipping his hat graciously. ”Well? Are you satisfied?”
How annoying. The sickness that she'd been chasing to feed off of was manifested through living hosts until completely morphed into the seed of their disease to spread it to others. While useful in large-scale populaces, it offered no immediate relief. Having no other choice but to help him on his side of the deal while she waited weeks for her own benefit made her scowl unpleasantly. Ironic, the parasite herself now becoming the consumer of lesser bottom-feeders.
"That's too long," she spoke flatly, displeased. He'd have to come up with something else to assist the both of them if he wanted her assistance. To spread, she'd need to be at her best game to be able to make use of the manna she'd stolen from the temple. If she encountered that light-casting annoyance with the pink ribbon again, she'd be more than ready. But that meant sustenance. Soon. The Plague-Maker's head tilted over his shoulder and he looked back at her with a knowing smile that told her he'd already thought thought up a different avenue.
"Though I suppose I could help to carry you over. That is such a long time to wait, after all.""It is. For either of us." She hated speaking like they'd made some sort of team. It was more of a pact; a mutual benefit. Though she'd already observed that he was his own biggest fan and more than likely enjoyed the thought of an ally... So grouping them together, for now, in her statements seemed like the most promising and fruitful way to reach her ultimate goal.
The offering he was teasing rewarded him with a bit more of her patience as she kept her focus onto the corpse he'd set himself to work on. The gathered, petrified crowd was deafened to her - only the small crinkles within the structure of the once-man mattering enough to hone in on. In seconds, the hole within his gut slowly began to grow itself back together and earned the thinning of her curious eyes. Then, as if prodded by an electrified rod, it twitched on the ground; a violent, jagged fish out of water. Streams of charcoal began to swim beneath the surface of his skin, seeping through every orifice as it devoured him from the inside out and twisting his insides into its own, survivable ecosystem.
Already she could smell it, even as the corpse went limp again onto the ground. Her eyes shut and she took a deep, addicting inhale at the scent of the weapon that'd be used to create more of the supplements she required. Even as it rose to its feet and the citizens shrieked in panic and pain, she stood and just took it in. Something this succulent deserved its due time. Most citizens now attempted to flee the building out into the storm, falling over one other and into the path of the creature's elongated limb and ravenous appetite. "That should do it, wouldn’t you say?" The Chaos opened her eyes and looked over to him, then to the gore of the lively scene, and nodded. "I would."
Her sword lifting through the air, angling over her shoulder blades until it pointed downwards and latched onto the buckles that held it in place against her back. She had to lean quickly - but calmly - to the side as the oozing, poisonous tentacle swung past her and into a few other victims. When she corrected her posture, she remained where she was at his side to await the episode's inevitable end when the screaming would stop and be replaced with the silence of the dead, the infected, and the absence of those that'd escaped to eventually tell tales of the devil they'd witnessed. This saved weeks of waiting. She'd have to keep to the shadows for the next couple, but already such a large number would surely be infected. A feast would soon be hers.
"Very," her eyes went to the door, widely open without any in her way, and she made her way towards the downfall outside. "I'll see to its growth." An irritating man, but a worthwhile man. Valuable. She intended to make good on her promise, guard against those that'd seek to destroy the plague and ensure its steady path outwards throughout the city. "I'm sure we'll find one another if the need arises," she cast her head over her shoulder in the same way he'd done earlier, learning best how to get him to listen by re-enacting his own mannerisms. What was the harm? Minorly bothersome but if it garnered better attention it was worth it. "Birds of a feather... Never too difficult to sniff out."
