A World Distorted

[Anonymous]

Chastity stopped when her wrist was grabbed, leaning her ear toward Feyda as if expecting her to place another order or to ask for something. Lindraeus was probably the most bothered by Feyda's sudden action, and looked visibly worried under his hood; That was incredibly brash, what was she trying to do here!?
Everyone listened to Feyda's brief story, which was just long enough to allow Neseraph to obliterate the beer in his mug.
Chastity smiled a little bit after hearing the story, speaking in a slightly patronizing way, "What a silly notion..."
When Vivante belched at the end of it, Neseraph nodded his nod and spoke, "Well put, Viv. I mean, damn Feyda, we ain't 'round a campfire and shit. What's with the ghost stories, babe? Don't kill my buzz. Ya gotta have a few drinkin' stories locked up behind that blue hair somewhere. Oh yeah! And speakin' of a buzz," Neseraph took Vivante's mug and presented both of the emptied containers to the waitress with a grin. "Might as well bring a damn pitcher out here, Chassy. I need more than rosy cheeks to have a good time!"
Chastity collected up the two mugs and replied promptly, "Of course. Give me a minute and I'll be right back."
As their waitress went to go refill the two mugs, Insera was busy starting on her own glass. She tipped her head back slightly and downed the gulp of wine that was in her glass in one pass. Usually she was a much more patient drinker when she did drink, but after seeing her father again so suddenly after sixteen years, she was more keen on getting intoxicated quickly.
She placed her glass back down and poured in some more wine. It was quite potent, or maybe because she had not partook in so long, because she could almost immediately feel a rush in her head. Not quite what she remembered about the effects of alcohol, but it was welcome nonetheless.


Anima couldn't hold it back any longer.
When she re-entered the kitchen area of the restaurant, she burst out laughing aloud. Most of the bartenders and cooks in the kitchen stopped what they were doing momentarily to glance her way, with about equal amounts of curiousity and puzzlement among them. She waved her hand dismissively once her excited laughing was stifled, and gradually she lost the attention and the cooks went back to work.
Feyda, Neseraph 013! Duugre, Neseraph 086! And Mikael the coward!
After raiding the Will of Divinity Outpost in Cerenis, Anima knew those names intimately, as well as the names of every other Neseraph out there. And what luck, to have one of them sitting right there with Neseraph himself, the Neseraph.
And that prospect excited her almost as much as being in Neseraph's presence again. She wanted desperately to set that table on fire, burn everyone sitting at it alive, and inhale the glorious scent of their cremated flesh. It took all of the willpower she could muster to simply walk away, as she knew that was best for her plan, despite how delicious a fellow Neseraph might have tasted when cooked.
Maybe her assumption was right, though. Maybe they would flock to him, to seek out the first Neseraph for guidance, for leadership. Maybe more were destined to come, drawn to the beacon of truth that was Neseraph 001.
When the bartender handed her back the two mugs and the pitcher of beer, Anima had to firmly reassert her dominance over herself.
Control. Control. Control.
Feyda would come later. The Cyan Man would come later. Insera would come later. The nameless ones would come later.
Neseraph was her's for the taking now.
Anima edged out another bright smile on Chastity's lovely face, then stepped out of the kitchen's double doors.


After several minutes, Chastity worked her way back toward the table with the two mugs and the pitcher, displaying a bright smile as she approached.
"Here you are, sir," she said to Neseraph as she placed his mug back in front of him, causing his eyes to widen significantly with glee. "And you too, sir," she spoke to Vivante, doing the same for him.
"You know what Chassy, you're alright with me," thanked Neseraph in his particular way as the chugging of beer began again.
Thumping the mug back down on the table with a resounding 'Ahhhh!', Neseraph glanced around the table and spoke loudly, "So, who else gots stories, huh? Viv! Viv... I know you got somethin' man, you're lookin' pretty damn antsy over there. And you, Latira!" he called out while pointing his finger at the same. "I know you're good at sittin' there and lookin' pretty, but I bet you gotta real keeper to share! Come on guys, lay it on me! If I don't piss myself tonight from laughin' so damn hard then I fucked somethin' up, that's for damn sure! Ha!"
Grinning like a hyena, Neseraph threw back some more beer as Chastity laid the pitcher in the center of the table, strategically placed between Neseraph and Vivante for maximum refillage. Lindraeus was becoming more and more concerned with every drink that Neseraph took -- he was definitely a wild one, and alcohol obviously made it worse.
Insera just shook her head a little, the corners of her lips curling up into a little smile, as she pondered smacking Neseraph again before he got too bolsterous.
Feeling a little warm, she loosened her tie up and shook her dress shirt to ventilate herself. She then cast a lazy-eyed glance at Dante and commented to him with a slight smirk now, "Please do not tell me that you are a 'loud' drunk as well."
She took another sip of her wine, savoring the taste and the subtle rush.

[Anonymous]

Neseraph was losing himself to the drinks already and Chastity was seeming more and more suspicious to Feyda. If she was indeed one like Feyda and Neseraph, then what did she have planned? What was she trying to get at. Currently, Feyda was more disappointed that she only got a reaction out of Lindraeus with her Zantaric story. Lindraeus was to be expected though. The dark woman wanted to finish her story, but the loud drunk want to carry things on. Regardless, Chastity was still hovering around the table after having refilled for Neseraph and Vivante.
"Say, Chas. Where are you from? 'Cause, to me, you are not from around here. I've been here before and I know what Conlaothians are like. And you are no Conlaothian." Feyda asked, throwing her suspicion out into the wind. Hopefully, one of her companions would catch on. Even if they had noticed that Fey had not even touched her drink to tell that something was up. She knew Latira probably would if she were not too buzzed from her drink, but Lindraeus is a special case.

[Anonymous]

As Neseraph spoke to her, she touched the bottle to her lips again and poured the rest of it down, empty. She felt a small kick as the liquid hit her unsuspecting stomach. Oh, how the mixes have improved since she'd last indulged. Of course, they were nothing like the dragon draughts that could leave even the largest dragon in a week-long stupor... but still.. She smiled as she felt her body rebel against the alcohol, and for a second she almost thought she felt a small explosion in there.

Oh this was good indeed.

She grinned in glee, a result of the drink and of Neseraph. She liked him. He had good humour.

Then she got distracted as Feyda spoke up, and both the words and the tone of her friend's voice set off little warning bells. Automatically, those sky-blue human eyes of hers were suddenly.. not. Reptilian slits replaced the circular pupils, and the room slid into sharper focus. She breathed in slowly, letting the air run over her tongue to taste the air as well as smell it. She now watched the waitress with suspicion, her eyes running over the details of her body, looking for something off.

Of course, that didn't really help since she didn't know much about human, especially Connlaoth (which she avoided), habits and culture. The last time she and Feyda had been here, Latira hadn't been paying too much attention to the cultural nuances. She felt the magic move in her blood, ready for use as she watched Chastity carefully.

[Anonymous]

More beer!  Vivante joined Neseraph, chugging at his mug until he ran out of air again.  There was some left, but Vivante didn't drink it immediately.  Neseraph was saying that it was someone else's turn to tell a story.  Though it wasn't a drinking story, Vivante was sure his story wasn't a horror story.  It did take place in a bar though and his world didn't get turned upside down.  Some other people got their worlds turned upside down.

It was him or Latreea.  Vivante started to look in the woman's direction, but she was distracted.

That meant it was his turn.  Vivante drained half of the beer that remained in his glass, stood and planted his hands on the table.  "This happened ten years ago," he started, looking at everyone around the table, Chassy included, and slowly sitting back down.  "I was accompanying my Instructor Cassandra into the heart of the desert.  The proper clothing to travel in the desert is a loose robe with a turban, plenty of places to hide a weapon.  We are carrying one in every place we can place one.  There is a city, deep in the desert, I forget the name.  We stop there one evening and we get a room in the tavern.  Cassandra wishes to have a drink and for me to accompany her.

"This tavern, by now is full of traveling men.  All showing steel, talking, drinking and loud.  It gets quiet when Cassandra enters the bar.  The desert women, they wear a great robe and cover nearly every part of their skin.  Cassandra is no desert woman, she wears a robe to travel and has left her shawl up in our room.  The room gets quiet enough to hear the mice run in the walls."

Vivante pulled a dagger from inside the cuff of his blue coat, twirled it in his hand.  "One tosses a dagger, thrown too low to touch Cassandra, but just enough to snag her loose sleeve.  Then they surround her, like that" Vivante tossed the dagger in the air, caught it and slammed it point first into the table.  "One large man at her arms and another reaching for her hip.  Cassandra doesn't scream.  Cassandra kills.  Slams the blade on her heel through his chest and kicks up her other foot to give the man at her arms the closest shave in his life.  Takes off all the skin.  As they die, I draw my sword..."

Vivante stopped then, one hand had been trailing down to his side where Deux ex Ensis would have been hanging.  He looked at the rest of the beer in his mug.  Then in his lap and propped both elbows on the table around the dagger and his mug.  "I lost my sword," he muttered, almost guiltily.  "Someone stole it in Zantaric."

[Anonymous]

Stories were of great importance to Dante, so he tended to listen to then with rapt attention. As a bard hearing other people's stories was like a blacksmith being handed a sword without a hilt, with only a little bit of effort it could turn a handsome profit.

Vivante's story was interesting, and certainly more useful from a storytelling perspective than Neseraph's, however Dante's attention was dragged from it when he caught, out of the corner of one eye as he took a sip of wine, Insera loosening her scarf. It was an odd scarf, all tightly knotted at the throat, but Dante merely assumed it was some cultural thing he hadn't encountered yet and dismissed it.

Her look was returned with a lidded glance of his own, lingering on her eyes for a while before he leaned in and answered, "Actually a good wine tends to calm me down. It's particularly good for the slower songs I play, makes them more....sensual than I can ever seem to manage when completely sober." A grin touched the corner of his lip, eyes losing focus for a moment as he fondly remembered something.

Coming back to the moment, Dante took another sip. She was certainly a cheap drunk, if after a few sips she was already getting all hot and bothered. By the end of the glass she'd be at the point that normally took hours to reach, that happy level of intoxication where he could get up to play something and lead her over to the stage to listen to a song or two.

Music was such a panty peeler.

"And what of you Diane?" that was here name, Diane, not Insera, "What happens when you have some drink in you?"

[Anonymous]

Neseraph was busy draining his mug for the second time when Feyda started getting more familiar with their waitress. Lindraeus, like Latira, was able to detect the almost accusing tone in which Feyda asked her questions. Despite the relatively short amount of time Lindraeus knew her, he did know that she seemed to have quite the nose for trouble (maybe troublemakers knew other troublemakers?). But the waitress? That didn't make a lot of sense, the waitress didn't seem off-key to Lindraeus. What was Feyda trying to do?
Chastity beamed brightly after Feyda asked the question, however, and replied cheerfully, "Well thank you for asking! I'm from Arca originally. My father was a traveling merchant, so I never stayed in one place for too long when I was little. When he got older, he decided to settle in Reajh with my mother, and so here I am too. I admit, Reajh is much different from Arca and such -- there's still a lot to learn and live with here for me."
Neseraph waved his hand inbetween Feyda and Chastity in an interrupting fashion. "Hey Chassy, don't listen to her girl. Look, I never knew ol' Fey here was a carpet-muncher, but a player knows a player, ya feel me? She's jus' lookin' for a bit a' tongue-wrestling at home base, see what I'm sayin'? Can I get a refill?"
Chastity chuckled at the drunken man's musing, then pointed to the pitcher she had just placed on the table. "Sure thing. Don't forget about your pitcher though, sir."
"Holy shit, I did forget about the pitcher. Fuck me. Well, better bring out another, feel me?"
Chastity nodded as she poured more beer from the pitcher into Neseraph's mug for him, listening along with everyone else at the table when Vivante told his story. After placing the pitcher back onto the table, she made eye contact with Vivante as he finished his tale. Her eyebrow twitched very slightly, she smiled a little, but said nothing to him about it.
Neseraph, on the other hand, was a different story. "Viv, man, holy shit, that's the most you've ever said at once. Good shit dude. But what the fuck man, I was expecting that to be one of those 'I got punched in the face' stories. Gotta tell ya though: I think I would fuck the shit outta your friend Cassandra. Just like this. You see this shit?"
Neseraph then proceeded to throw his hands up and down repeatedly as if he were climbing the trunk of a ridiculously thick tree, saying to not-so-sweet nothings to himself and squinting his eyes to add to the image.
"I'll check on your orders. Give me a few minutes," said Chastity as she turned walked back toward the kitchen doors.
With the waitress gone from the table, Lindraeus felt compelled to address Feyda about her intentions. He leaned toward her and Latira and whispered to them, "Hey. Feyda. Latira. What's the deal? What's going on?"


Once Anima passed through the kitchen's double doors, she walked at a much more brisk pace. Her destination now was the backdoor that led into the alley behind the restaurant, where the trash was thrown out.
She threw her arms out and pushed the backdoor open, closing it quickly behind herself and slinking down into a sitting position up against the alley way.
She looked at her hands, Chastity's beautiful skin -- both of them were trembling heavily. Anima tossed both of them over her mouth to stifle an intense fit of hyperexcited laughter, shutting her eyes tightly as well.
Oh what a night! Anima nearly lost complete control over herself when the Cyan Man was telling his tale. She had to leave quickly, or risk everything.
Before the Cyan Man was even finished, the violent details of his story produced in her such an overwhelming euphoria that she wanted to take him right there. She wanted to wreck havoc on his beautiful body in the middle of the restaurant, to taste and be tasted, to feel and be felt. She wanted to defile him so badly and so deeply that he could no longer turn to anyone else for pleasure, that he would become a slave and a prisoner to her body and her body alone.
There was no doubt about it now. Once Neseraph was gone a gap was going to be created in Anima, a gap that needed to be filled.
The Cyan Man would fill that gap, because she wanted him. She needed him.
She loved him.


"Very good," Insera replied to Dante, liking his answer. The last thing that they needed were two loud drunks yelling nonsense at each other.
Ignoring Neseraph's antics, Insera took two more sips of her wine. After she swallowed it, she set her glass back down on the table and blinked.
And everything changed. Her vision had become slightly hazy, as if everything and everyone was in a constant state of motion blur. Colors bled out of their sources and snaked their way freely and wildly around, disobeying the laws of nature and light to enact their own whims. Her perception of depth faded in and out rhythmically, matched nearly perfect to her breathing, like an accordian being played slowly and methodically.
It was a world distorted.
But Insera merely laughed a little and took hold of her glass again, taking another sip. In her mind, nothing was wrong. Her sense of judgement was the first thing to fall victim to the drug; she felt no sense of alarm about her strange vision, or anything else.
She turned her suddenly dilated eyes to look at Dante again when he called her by her first name. To Insera, his face was flying apart in slow motion, gliding apart in myriad directions like raindrops inching off of a windshield. His eyes were black holes in the chaos, two spinning vortexes that seemed to devour the streaks of color that strayed too near.
"Makes me quiet," she said softly, her eyes unable to focus on him. "Makes me forget."
Insera wiped her forehead spontaneously, feeling a few beads of sweat. She mumbled something that included the word 'hot' as she gradually worked her way out of her suit coat, setting it on the back of her chair. She lazily brushed her white dress shirt afterward, and absent-mindedly straightened her tie.
A hand tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned her head to see that it was Neseraph.
His white hair was arching itself upward in Insera's vision, a geometric-nightmare of two crooked wings atop his head. His grin seemed to leap off of his face, curving and twisting violently across the blurred air itself. His eyes and face contorted into a galaxy-like shape, twirling around as it pleased among the other shapes.
Neseraph's lips were moving. He was saying something, his speech muffled and distant to Insera, but it didn't matter.
She didn't recall moving, but Insera's arms were suddenly wrapped around Neseraph's neck and her lips were pressed hard against his own.
She was kissing him.

[Anonymous]

Feyda's suspicions on Chastity strengthened when she came back without skipping a beat about being from Arca. She was good. She made it seem entirely like nothing was going on while Feyda was pretty much the only one that knew differently. Then Neseraph threw in his two cents about Feyda. Like a match to a fuse, Feyda clenched her teeth tightly and reached into her longcoat. She drew out her Desert Eagle and promptly blew his leg off.
At least, that was only the first scenario that when through the dark woman's mind. She still needed answers from him and having him bleed out wouldn't be very wise. Instead, she clenched her teeth tightly as she reared back with a balled fist. She then immediately slammed her fist into the side of the wild man's head, knocking him senseless. Her brute power is unlike any normal being. At least when antagonized.
Fortunately, Feyda ruled out both scenarios. She didn't even clench her teeth tightly together. She figured that Neseraph was simply shitfaced drunk already and he didn't really mean what he said. Then again, the way Feyda was going about her suspicions, it did seem like she was trying to get at something else. She heard Lindraeus, but made it seem like she paid little attention to him. The dark woman finally reached for her drink and downed the deadly concoction in one quick gulp. She then slammed the glass down on the table, but not hard enough to attract any attention.
"I'm having the same sense of presence that I have had around Duugre and Neseraph just by being near Chastity. I didn't want to believe it at first, but it comes and goes whenever she does." Feyda explained to Lindraeus without masking her voice or looking in his direction. She was more interested in the kitchen doors.

[Anonymous]

((sorry for the delay, my internet took a sick day last night))

It was with a tinge of regret that she looked down at her empty bottle, feeling her magic burning the last of what her body deemed "poison" from her blood. Her eyes kept that reptilian pupil, and for a moment she stilled, looking inwardly at the bright myriad of her magic that coiled and shifted and moved within her- and about her, too. There was no visible change in her, but perhaps some of the more sensitive in the restaurant would feel the subtle shift as she looked. Of course, her inborn magic was with her always, but it was muted when she wasn't paying attention.

Moving again, she reached out, fingers touching Feyda's hand softly and she spoke to her friend, loud enough for the whole table to hear, if they listened.

"This drink will not effect me, Feyda, nor most poisons because of what I am. And also my size, in the case of the drink."

It was her way of telling her friend that she had a reliable back-up, should the situation call for it. Hopefully some wayward Mordecai wouldn't show up. She let a small brush of warmth travel through her fingers to comfort her friend, then retracted her hand and leaned back a bit, unraveling her ankles from around the chair's legs and putting them firmly on the ground. She hoped that she'd get dinner first before the all hell- or heaven, as the case may be- breaks loose.

[Anonymous]

It was like Zantaric all over again.  Well sort of.  Vivante didn't feel like getting up and squeezing the first arms dealer he found for information that might lead to information about his sword.  That feeling of missing something incredibly precious was there though.  That horrid sense of being incomplete.

In Zantaric it made him angry.  Here in Reajh, at the bar, it just made him notice that he had some beer left in his mug and it might as well go toward filling the hole from the missing Deux ex Ensis.  Aiol used to say that vices could fill whatever was missing in any person.  Drinking was a vice and Vivante was missing his sword.  It had to work.  

Vivante drained the rest of his glass, not catching the bit Neseraph had to say about Cassandra.  He leaned back in his chair as the beer slid down his throat, swiping his tongue as far inside the glass as it could go to get the sheer beer film on the sides of the mug.  Once it was licked clean, Vivante's eyes locked on the pitcher of beer.  That's what he was thinking about when he asked for a mug of beer.  Vivante grabbed the pitcher and began to drink out of it, stopping when he ran out of breath to catch it again and belch.

Another belch kept him from diving back into the pitcher so soon and his stomach felt full with more of them.  While he waited to see if any more showed up, Vivante looked at the rest of the group, wondering if anyone else started a story while he was busy drinking.

Fey was staring at something else, Latreea and Lindy looking at her.  Vivante craned his neck to see what she was looking at and couldn't see anything that interested him, just the other patrons and the staff rushing in and out of the kitchen doors.  In-Serah was wrapping her arms around Neseraph's neck so she could lean in and... bite his lip?  Neseraph must have said something much dumber than a slap or stomp worthy offense this time.  That left Dante, all alone with no In-Serah to pay attention to him.  Vivante took another gulp from the pitcher and prodded the man's shoulder.

"Tell me a story."

[Anonymous]

Anima, regaining her composure, swept back into the kitchen with a renewed sense of purpose.
It was working--the toxin and the sorcery it carried was seeping into Neseraph's body. His thoughts were beginning to enter her mind slowly at first, but then rushed in as the seconds passed, gradually replacing the thoughts of Insera.
This is what she had come for. Now everything was in place for her to dissect Neseraph, to pick apart the answers she needed from that which was unnecessary. There was still work to be done, but the first big step had been taken.
Anima stopped near a kettle in the kitchen, under which a flame licked the bottom to heat its contents; now it was time to leave her mark, to light her signal fire. Just like the tavern in Ketra, just like Stiphos' house in Zantaric, this place too would burn, and mark another step in her path. Perhaps Neseraph would even smell Anima's subtle scent within the smoke, and then know, at the very least unconsciously, that their reunion was imminent and inevitable.
She glanced around the kitchen casually as she reached into her side pouch. When no one was looking, with a flick of her wrist, she tossed a liquid-filled, palm-sized capsule into the flame under the kettle. The liquid inside was a potent Fire Agitator, that was protected temporarily by the flammable cap of the capsule. Anima would only have a matter of several minutes before the cap was completely burned through and the volatile liquid was released.
Several minutes she would spend trying to get to the Cyan Man alone.
With her primary deed done, Anima had the chance to indulge a little, and indulge she would. Sauntering over to the bar in the kitchen, she got a new pitcher filled with beer, per Neseraph's request, from the barkeeps. Her hand rummaged through her side pouch again, until she felt the vial of the potion she was looking for. Separating someone from a group of people was simple: The easiest of the two basic urges that socially required privacy to obtain was the urge to use the bathroom--urination, specifically.
That was exactly what the potion would do to someone who imbibed it in a matter of a minute or two. The only drawback was the slightly stale smell it would give the beer, but with luck, the Cyan Man would be too intoxicated to notice, but not intoxicated enough to empty his bladder in his pants. There were four one-person bathrooms in the restaurant, two for males and two for females, and it was her hope to catch him in one of them, if only for a few minutes.
After pouring the potion into the pitcher of beer, Anima picked it up and headed for the double-doors with an eager smile.

Neseraph always knew that Insera had one hell of a kiss, from the few times they did, and this was no exception. His eyes widened at first, but closed to enjoy the moment once he realized what was going on. There was a certain spark in her kiss that he had never felt before, and it sent shivers throughout his body.
When she finally pulled away from him, Neseraph stayed frozen for a second before flashing a boozy grin and remarking, "Damn babe, I need to get you drunk more often!"
Insera's dilated eyes didn't focus on him, but she smiled in a lop-sided way in response to him. Small patches of sweat dampened her white dress shirt, and her skin glistened slightly.
Her arms still around his neck, Insera leaned in for another kiss, scooting her chair closer to him as well. And Neseraph wasn't one to argue about his good fortune.
Meanwhile, Lindraeus' jaw slowly became slacked as he took in what Feyda had to say. It was astounding all by itself that she could effectively 'sniff out' other Neseraphs, but moreso that one was here right now.
"Really?" said Lindraeus, his mind already racing to try and find a match for the alledged Neseraph. "I don't remember a Neseraph by the name of Chastity, but its very likely she assumed a new name. I... uh, hold on, let me think."
He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and mentally running through the pictures of all one-hundred and eighty-six Neseraphs, trying to match Chastity's face to one of his hazy recollections. "Hmm... uh... I don't know. I don't remember a Neseraph that looked like Chastity. Umm... Feyda, are you absolutely positive that-?"
"Hello everyone," chimed Chastity as she came back up to the table with one more pitcher. She placed it inbetween Neseraph and Vivante, but much closer to Vivante. She glanced around the table, smiling at everyone she made eye contact with, and announced, "Your food is almost ready, it'll only be a couple more minutes."
Lindraeus remained utterly silent when the waitress came back to the table, and pretended to look away to avoid eye contact with her; he didn't want to take any chances. As Chastity nodded politely and strolled away from the table, toward the restaurant's bathroom section, Lindraeus finally looked back up and at Feyda.
His look of concern leveled out into a more realistic facade, and he said to her and Latira, "Ugh... what are we doing? The Neseraphs aren't the Will of Divinity, and they aren't any threat until they are awakened by the Will. The poor girl probably has no idea what she truly is! Feyda, Latira, listen to me, I know how striking it may be happen into a Neseraph by chance, but she's no threat. More than likely, she doesn't have any idea what's going on right now, and how can she? We'll be fine."

Anima closed the door to the first of the two female bathrooms behind herself, pressing her back against the door. The plumbing fixtures of the restaurant were rudimentary in function, all draining to an outhouse behind the building itself, but aethestically pleasing to the eye, the sink and toilet being crafted out of fine marble and colorfully matching the walls and floor of the bathroom.
She glanced up toward the painted, wooden boards that comprised the ceiling of the room.
It was only a quick matter of time before one thing or the other happened.

[Anonymous]

Feyda continued to eye Chastity as she came back to the table to present Neseraph with a new pitcher and sauntered off to the bathrooms. Her eyes may be elsewhere, but her ears were open to listen to Lindraeus.
"I understand what you mean, Lindy. But there is absolutely no way someone could be raised in the deepest bowls of Hell and be so cheery working in a restaurant within the Anti-magic Kingdom. I should know. Something just doesn't set right with me about this one." Feyda explained, keeping her eyes in the direction of the bathrooms. Finally adverting her eyes, the dark woman turned to face Lindraeus.
"Besides, you probably forgot a bit of details about other Neseraphs after suffering the trauma to your hand, back in Zantaric, office boy." Feyda's smile added a bit of eeriness to the last sentence that left her mouth. Before allowing either one of her companions to respond, Feyda stood up and started towards the bathrooms.
As Feyda passed by the first female bathroom door, she stared it down as she continued by. The presence behind it was definitely that waitress. Not allowing anything to bother her, the dark woman proceeded into the second female bathroom.

[Anonymous]

Latira watched her companion's retreating back as Feyda left for the washrooms. Even when she was out of sight, the dragon-girl kept her eye on her last location. Then, running words through her head as to how best to talk to Lindraeus, she turned to him.

"Can we really take that risk? I don't know how many Neseraphs there are, but are we not looking for one that caused the bloodbath in the other town?"

Unconsciously, she began to methodically crack her fingers. The smell of the beer made her turn her head and frown at it, but then another smell distracted her.

Something odd was burning. It had taken its sweet time to come to her nose, but now that it did. She sniffed, then began looking around the room for the source.

Kitchen? Fireplace? With all the other scents of sweat and alcohol and wood and smoke polluting her nose, she couldn't tell. So, she refocussed  on where she had last scene Feyda. Almost absently, ignoring how busy he seemed to be, she posed a question (or two) at Neseraph.

"Neseraph... you are the same as Feyda, right? How well do you stand against fire?"

[Anonymous]

Ow, right in the balls.

All his charm, which for all accounts seemed to have been working, were apparently no match for whatever history these two had. Oh well, no use dwelling on it. Perhaps he'd try for a devil's Ménage à trios later, if they were up for it. Nothing like a good spit roast.

Turning away from Insera, as seemed the only course of action now (other that perhaps throwing caution to the wind and outright groping her), Dante faced Vivante. The prod wasn't necessary, but he forgave the man due to his state.

"A story?" he mused, stroking his goatee slowly, "Yes, a story indeed."

But which story?

After a moment of deliberation Dante decided upon something the man might like, leaning forward and bracing a hand on the table.

"I knew a man once, in a land across the sea to the east, who worked, and I kid you not, entirely in what he called 'Dragoncraft'. This frail looking old fellow with a beard around his ankles and grandchildren for his grandchildren would go out once every few months to hunt and kill a monstrous dragon and bring the carcass back so he might work the many useful materials it provided. He'd make impenetrable armour from the leather and bones of the beast, sell its heart to mystics who used it for visions so clear you would confuse reality and dreams just to look upon them, use the claws to make great scythes for the emperors royal guards, and fold the beasts fire oil into swords that would burn like a torch if lit.

"This single man was the reason for his emperor's dominance over the many warlords in the land. The emperor sent armies to hunt dragons for himself, but none ever returned. For the longest time I had no idea how he managed it, but one night I plied him with drink and pleasant company and he told me this:

"The dragons were greedy creatures, seeking the wealth of men to hoard in their caves, but they were also too lazy to get it themselves. The crafter made a deal, in his youth, wherein the dragons would give to him their dead and in exchange he would supply them with riches. A hero in his time, regarded as a legend, the greatest fighter in the land, yet he was nothing but a craftsman given the duty of the dragon's gravedigger," he took a drink of his wine, "Makes you think, what truth is there in people's claims to glory?"

[Anonymous]

For a second, Vivante wasn't sure Dante was going to pay any attention to him.  He was raising his hand for a second poke when Dante turned around and began stroking his chin.  Since that hand was already raised, Vivante reached out and grabbed the pitcher - which had magically refilled itself in the time it took between the pause and the beginning of the story - and took a drink.

It smelled a little funny, but tasted just fine once he had the lip in his mouth.  Instead of gulping it down like he did before, he sipped off the top so he could pay attention to this tale.  A story about a man that Dante met, which was exchanged for drinks.  Nice, it fit with the other stories.

A man who fought dragons and turned their parts into goods like they were deer.  Vivante supposed this made sense, even a human could be turned into useful parts.  In his time, Vivante took down his share of deer and humans but never fought a dragon.  An actual dragon at least, there was the mercenary called the Black Dragon of Jacenti, who was fierce but in now way as terrible as the dragons in this story.  The end made  him cross his eyebrows a little.  What truth was in a claim of glory?  

Vivante's glory, he was told over and over until it pounded in a steady mantra like the blood through his ears, was in his service to the Reckoning.  There was truth.  Even now, away from the Reckoning he was obeying his last order.  There was a trick to that question.  One that mages (or other thinking types) liked to dangle in front of people so they would leap for the easy answer so they could gloat over the right answer.  If there was an answer.  Some questions, apparently, didn't have answers.

"Is this man not worthy of his legend?"

As much as he wanted to hear the answer, Vivante was going to have to wait.  He must have drunk more than he thought he did and would be filling his boot if he didn't go have a piss.  

"I will be back," Vivante said, standing and walking away from the table.

He started walking for the door until he remembered that most cities had a room that people were supposed to use in the buildings.  If he didn't see a little hallway with the type of discreet doors most of those rooms out of the corner of his eye he would have been out the door and behind the building.  They were closer.  Vivante strode over to the first of the doors - which had a weird symbol painted on it - opened it and found a familiar face inside.  The waitress, who was just hiding or something.

Vivante liked these boots, so he wouldn't blow her cover.  Unless she was the type that couldn't stand to be around a person that was taking care of their basic needs.  That was her choice.  Vivante pushed past her and stared at the two stone basins.  This was a nice place, he thought as he undid the bottom buttons of his black coat, most places just had a bucket in a corner.

[Anonymous]

Lindraeus sighed softly when he heard Feyda's counter-argument, unsure of his own argument at that point. She had some good points, but her conclusion of a malign force at work seemed a bit rash, given the nearly insubstantial evidence to go on. How could she be so certain of a connection between the waitress and Duugre from Zantaric?
But then, he considered, what were the implications if her suspicions were correct?
"Ok, I see where you're coming from Feyda." He paused for a second, nervously trying to find the right words, "I just, uh, don't want to start a witch-hunt out of this, you know? If there's no need-"
Lindraeus stopped talking immediately when Feyda got in her last remark before leaving the table. He looked around and scratched the back of his neck, and straightened his hood out of anxious twitch.
His shoulders dropped a little when Latira talked to him, and he breathed a little easier. His mouth sunk into a dissatisfied frown when the dragon-lady mentioned their objective, and he murmured, "Ugh... I hope we never find her."
Meanwhile, Neseraph and Insera disengaged once again from their long lip-lock, and Neseraph had to distract Insera with her wine in order to be able to breathe for a couple minutes. He didn't know what had gotten into her, but he was too drunk himself to really question his favorable turn of events. There was something about that very first kiss of the night from her that was just more electrifying than the subsequent ones.
He would have time to search for that wonderful spark again later; right now, the good bard Dante was finally telling a story of his own, even if it didn't exactly involve him in a stupidly hilarious situation like Neseraph would have liked. Chastity had been right on cue with the next pitcher of beer, but Neseraph still had to finish off the first one, and Vivante was more than happy to attack the new pitcher on the block.
Finishing up a big gulp of booze, Neseraph, glancing over Insera's wobbly head at Dante, said unnecessarily loudly, "Yo man, I can't be thinkin' that hard with all this alcohol goin' to my head. Yeah, yeah, you and Vivante chat it up, that's the spirit. Hey, Viv, where ya goin' man? Ah ha, you're an idiot man, toilets are that- yeah, that's right."
After Vivante was well on his way to do nature's business in a socially acceptable manner, Neseraph had time to answer Latira's cryptic question, replying in a manner that was anything but serious, "Hey baby, I am on fire! You see this shit? Check it out, check it out."
Testing his abnormal luck of the drunken Insera, Neseraph cupped her chin and faced her head toward him, grinning as he did so. Her unfocusing eyes found Neseraph once so prompted, and just as before, she inexplicably leaned into him and kissed him.
Victoriously, Neseraph tossed Latira a thumbs-up sign, then closed his eyes to savor the moment again.
"I am so sorry for the delay!" said a new waiter who came up to the table then, carrying the plates of food everyone had ordered on two big trays. As he started to place the plates onto the table, he continued courteously but couldn't mask his slight embarassment, "I'm Adam, and I do apologize for the service tonight. Your orders were sitting in the kitchen for several minutes now. Rest assured, I'll be having me a talk with your server tonight. Could you please tell me who was your waiter or waitress tonight?"
Lindraeus felt a little creeping dread crawling down his spine. "A waitress by the name of Chastity was serving us."
"Fuckin' nice girl too. I'd tag it," said Neseraph, coming up for a breath of fresh air before going back to tongue-wrestling Insera.
The waiter Adam squinted his eyes a little bit, thinking for a moment. He shook his head. "Huhm, that's weird. We don't have a waitress by the name of Chastity. Are you sure that was her name?"
Lindraeus went absolutely slack jawed for a second, and he glanced over at Latira: She and Feyda just might be onto something, and, as much as he didn't want to believe it, it just might be something dangerous.
"No, um... I'm not sure. Not sure of it..." He looked over toward the hallway of bathrooms fearfully.

Chastity was at the other end of the bathroom when Vivante opened the door, looking up at the ceiling still. She was pleasantly surprised when Vivante actually wandered into the same restroom she was in, anticipating instead on having to get into another restroom discreetly, but it was a welcome turn of events.
She smiled slowly when he looked at her, and sauntered past him happily while he did his business in the marble commode. She casually shut the door and engaged the latch lock, followed by the chain lock above it. She sauntered back toward him slowly, taking her time to cover the short gap inbetween them, staring intently at the corner of his eye that she could see.
Then she lashed out, spinning him around by his shoulder haphazardly before pressing her body against his. She snaked her left arm around the small of his back to pull him into herself as well, leaning in to kiss him deeply. Her right hand ran wildly through his hair, up and down, trying to feel every inch and every strand during their embrace.
Chastity spoke longingly once she was finished, keeping close to Vivante still with her left arm in place, "We were both waiting for that, weren't we?" She flashed him an eager grin and continued, "That was quite some story of your's. You lost something very dear to you in Zantaric, didn't you? Give me time, and we might find ourselves in Zantaric again, and we might find something that you will cherish."
She gradually slid her arm out from behind Vivante, staring relentlessly into his eyes the whole time. "You're so beautiful, especially up close. I said I would touch your hair... it's a shame I've already spoiled my appetite, though. Hmmm... how did you like it? The taste of my flesh. You remember, I know you do."
Taking a step back, Chastity pulled a small knife out of her sleeve and twirled it around in her fingers, never breaking eye contact. "I want to show you something. I want to show you my world: A world that cannot be trusted, cannot be believed, and cannot be denied. I want to show you that your eyes betray you, that your ears lie to you, that your nose toys with you. I want to show you that truth and deception are one in the same. I want to show you our world.
Smirking excitedly, Chastity brought the knife up to her own left ear, breaking the skin with the point of the blade. "Let's see what's really hiding behind this mask, shall we?"
With surgical precision, she sliced a neat incision down her jawline and back up to her other ear, blood oozing out of the large cut. Laughing a little, Chastity dropped the knife and grabbed hold of her face, slowly peeling the skin off of her head. With a sickeningly wet snapping and ripping sound, she tore her own face off.
But there was another face underneath the mask, one that was more familiar. As the mask came off, her skin went from pale to darkly tanned all across her body, the blue in her eyes drained out and was replaced with red, and her hair blackened and flaired out slightly at the tips.
She carelessly threw the organic mask away, and wiped off the remaining blood on her face in a single pass.
"Hello, Cyan Man," said Anima with an eager grin.

[Anonymous]

Just as soon as Anima had ripped off her mask and greeted Vivante, a portion of the wall that separated the two bathrooms blew debris into the bathroom Anima and Vivante were in, leaving a new opening between both washrooms. Feyda was quick to motion herself around the newly made hole and aimed her desert eagle at the back of Anima's head.
"I'm glad I keep a bit of C4 on myself. Now, I think you have some explaining to do, Ms. Waitress." The Dark woman proceeded, taking a brief glance at the organic mask on the ground.
"Who are you, first of all?" She pressed, keeping a safe distance between herself and the sadistic woman.

(Forgive the delay, had a lot going on and a vacation on top of that. Also, sorry about the tiny post, my muse is still trying to build up from my time away from SotE.)

[Anonymous]

The chair scraped back quickly as Latira stood up, staring at the table as she processed what the waiter had said. She almost ran to the washrooms to enlighten Feyda but... Feyda knew. Latira didn't know how Feyda 'felt' the others, but she trusted that Feyda could take care of herself. The sound of the wall caving confirmed her decision to stay at the table. Her eyes, now with that reptilian pupil present, moved to Lindraeus.

"You have my protection."

Then she turned to the remaining three. Dante, Insera, Neseraph... She stared for a long moment at Insera and Neseraph going at it, noting the dampness on her shirt and the smell of sweat and..

"Neseraph..."

She wanted more than what she got the last time she'd asked for his attention, so she climbed on the table, her knees knocking her glass over. She leaned forward and put a hand on both their shoulders, trying to move them apart.

"I think she's been poisoned... Don't touch the drinks. Or food."

She raised her voice loud enough for Dante to hear as well, glancing at him through her red hair before returning her attention to Insera. She sniffed the hand that had touched Insera and her eyes narrowed on the wine glass. Picking it up, she sniffed that, too. All the while, she tried not to let her attention wander to where Feyda was. Tried to let the flood of scent occupy her mind in picking out the odours. She brought her legs from the kneel she'd had, aiming to get them between Insera and Neseraph as she leaned over and retrieved the beer that had struck her as odd earlier, swirling the liquid around before replacing it on the table. She turned to Neseraph, trying to lock his gaze in those sky-blue, serpentine eyes.

"How do you feel?"

For not the first time in her life, she regretted not learning more about medicine. She relied to heavily on her own healing without regard to others. Of course, she'd never known that she'd become involved in affairs that don't concern dragons.

"I can't smell any poison in her wine, but look at her eyes. Should she be sweating that much? It smells a bit off, but.. I'm no expert on human excrements."

[Anonymous]

While he was taking his leak, Vivante was dimly aware that the waitress was wandering around the room and locking the door.  Strange, maybe the staff took turns manning the rooms so only one customer could use them at a time.  Vivante didn't think about it too hard, there had to be all sorts of things he didn't know about Connlaoth.

Then, barely after he was finished tucking himself away, the waitress was grabbing his shoulder.  He moved where her hand was pressing, carefully shifting his feet so he wouldn't be knocked off balance.  She immediately pressed in too close for him to get a knee in her gut and as he was curling a fist to knock her in the ribs, she put her arm around his back and...

Put her tongue down his throat.

Connlaoth certainly was weird.

Vivante was so surprised he forgot about hitting her in the ribs and his fist loosened, falling back to his side and his eyes widened a little.  When she pulled away, Vivante stared her, trying to figure out the meaning behind her sudden interest.

Apparently, she liked his story.  She liked it a lot.  Vivante was certain that his wasn't the best one told around the table, but that didn't seem to matter now.  Now she wanted to steal him away to Zantaric and help him find something else to cherish.  It was a nice thought, but there was nothing better than the Ensis.

Vivante matched her gaze as she pulled her arm away, narrowing them slightly and narrowing them further when she started to talk about touching his hair and remembering the taste of her flesh.  The only person that ever talked about touching his hair and whose flesh he'd tasted with their consent was Crazy.  The one that poisoned In-Serah.  This woman didn't look anything like Crazy though...  His eyes dropped to the knife she yanked from her sleeve, followed it through the spin.

His expression didn't change when the waitress took the knife to her own face and began cutting.  This was the first time he'd seen someone try to skin their own face off.  Somehow it related to a world that couldn't be trusted or denied.  Vivante wasn't one to figure out such complex reasoning.  He just saw a woman cutting, and now peeling, the skin of her own face off.  Under the skin on the face was a network of muscle, just like under just about any stretch of skin.  At least on a normal person or animal.  This woman had another face underneath her first face.

A familiar face.

Crazy's face.

Vivante wasn't sure what to say to her.  Luckily, he didn't have to think of anything because the wall closest to the door exploded and Vivante didn't have to think about how to respond to that.  He wrapped an arm around Crazy's shoulders and head and drew her in close, turning so his back was toward the flying wood and burning paper.  Once the debris settled, Vivante looked over his shoulder to see Fey standing before the hole in the wall and pointing a metal crossbow at them.

She didn't shoot though, just asked Crazy some questions.  Vivante kept his eyes on Fey.  There was no way he could dodge a quarrel from a metal crossbow.  Not this close.

[Anonymous]

With Vivante gone the bard was left with little to do but sip his wine and asses his options. He had of course intended to spend the evening playing and storytelling and flirting with Insera, but things had taken a rather awkward turn. With Insera inexplicably tongue tied, as it were, his flirtations were left with few places to go. Feyda was just...no, not even going there. Something about the woman was downright off-putting. So, by means of elimination, Latira was the only remaining candidate.

Dante didn't know what to make of the woman. She was young, but perhaps older than she looked, not unattractive but not jaw dropping either. Really he hadn't paid much attention to her, not expecting Insera to be so easily plucked from his sights after seeing how she acted around the other men.

It was just then that Latira came to him.

What an unexpected turn of...oh...wait. She was going for Neseraph too. With a sigh he slumped back into his chair, contemplating going up for a song or three.

It was comforting, in a strange way, to learn she hadn't come to intertwine her tongue with theirs, but instead to warn them about poison. She was talking about drugs actually, not poison, but Dante chose to keep silent on the point.

Drugging did make a certain amount of sense, though he himself wasn't feeling any sudden urge to yell 'Take me Neseraph! Take me now!'. Still, Insera hadn't had much and even for someone who'd known her all of half a day this seemed out of character.

Insera's condition, it seemed, could wait.

An explosion, loud enough that it was heard clearly from where Dante was sitting, resounded from the bathroom with a pop. Feyda had gone and blown something up, apparently, while they were trying to remain hidden. Smart girl, real smart.

Turning sharply to Neseraph, or Inseraph as might be a better term for the two bodies writhing around like a pair of mating pythons, he whispered, "It would seem we have lost our anonymity, and after today I doubt the owner will hesitate to summon the guards. You two can finish trying to eat each other's tongues back at the house, but we need to leave now."

There was no question about it, it had to be done.

"I've got her," he said, standing up and scooping Insera into his arms, one hand under her knees and the other around her middle with his shoulder supporting her back. She could damn well protest all she wanted, but she was in no fit state to walk out of here. "Go get Vivante and...well Feyda if you feel you must. Latira," he glanced at the redhead, "Come along or stay here for the guardsmen."

Without waiting for anyone to be able to argue he spun, Insera in his arms if not in the preferred manner, and headed for the door.

[Anonymous]

The thrill of the hunt, that's what drove Anima, and that's what the Cyan Man practically embodied for her. What use would she have for a someone that simply threw themself at her feet, reciprocating her every beckon without question. There was no fun in trying to sculpt a finished statue; one had to start with the base materials. Aside from a small font of necessary answers, that's what Neseraph was to her now: a finished statue, no fun.
Not the Cyan Man. There was so much to discover about him, so much to shape about him...
"How about a little gift? From me... to you," she said, opening up Vivante's hand and slowly brandishing another knife. Grinning, she spun it around in her hand, presenting the handle of the blade to-
In a rapid blur, the wall dividing the bathrooms was blown up, Anima dropped the knife in the ruckus, and she found herself firmly tucked in close to Vivante, who shielded her from the blast with his own body. Fully realizing what happened, Anima narrowed her eyebrows and smiled wryly ear-to-ear, nuzzling her head lovingly into the Cyan Man's chest, breathing heavily, and she wrapped both of her arms around his waist this time.
That was it. That was exactly what she was looking for in him. It was the slightest hint of change; he just as easily could have left her alone. But instead, he came close to her, touched her, merged with her in that very second. That was it, and her insatiable need for him grew that much stronger.
There was an interruption that broke her split-second reverie, one that demanded answers.
Looking over Vivante's shoulder, and despite how disappointed she was to see another person who wielded a gun instead of a blade, Anima flashed an excited grin at Feyda and said, "We're sharing a moment here." She dug her nails into Vivante's back, concluding, "Care to join us?"
Then came the question of her identity, to which she simply shook her head, her facial expression unflinching, her direct eye contact with Feyda relentless. "I am your shadow. I am Neseraph's shadow. I am Cyan Man's shadow. I exist only because of you. I am inevitable, inescapable. I am an impulse, a thought in your mind. So long as light graces you, I will be there. I am born of you."
Anima slowly retracted one of her hands from around Vivante's waist.
"Feyda... Neseraph 013... getting close to Neseraph himself, are we? Now what are we going to do when we get him, hmm? Are we going to tear him apart? Toy with him? Beg from him? Blame him? Or should we just let him burn, like everyone else in here?"
She tilted her head to the side, saying with an unnerving amount of glee, "Any second now, any second now... what will we do?"


"Okay, well, I'll go check with the manager," assured Adam to Lindraeus after he finished distributing all of the orders around the table. "And don't worry, I'll make sure that Chastity is properly reprimanded for her ser-"
The barely muffled sound of an explosion caught the attention of the entire restaurant, stopping conversations dead in their tracks and prompting just about every patron to look towards the source of the terrible noise--the bathrooms. A worried and distressed murmuring among the customers started immediately afterward, the horrific attack on Reajh still fresh on all of their minds.
Adam shot up straight, as did Lindraeus in his seat, and Neseraph disengaged from Insera, who was entirely unaffected by the commotion, all of them save for her looking apprehensively in the direction of the bathrooms. What the hell was hap-
"Hey. Hello. What's up?" Neseraph blurted out quickly when Latira, much to his surprise, was crouched on the table right in front of him. "Damn, and I thought I was drunk. Didn't you just hear-"
A very sobering chill ran down his spine, Latira's words of caution evoking memories of how, earlier in the day, Insera described being poisoned by someone. And again? Now?
"Hey, hey, not now," said Neseraph to the dazed Insera, deflecting her latest attempt to lock lips with him. Looking back at Latira with concerned expression, he said after blinking a few times in a vain attempt to clear his head, "Poisoned?? Shi... What the f... God da... how did that happen? Ah, hell, you're right. The booze. No, no, I'm fine. So... fuck, I need to think."
While Neseraph battled against the warhost of alcohol that held his brain hostage from his reason, Adam and Lindraeus watched two men walk briskly toward the bathrooms with flintlock pistols drawn and aimed at the doors. They were bodyguards, contracted by The Midnight's manager after the morning's attack on Reajh, for a little extra protection in the time it would take the Guard or the military to arrive if a situation developed. Unfortuantely, the manager was getting his money's worth.
"I have to... I have to go get the manager," said Adam, almost absent-mindedly while his eyes were stuck to the doors of the bathrooms, before he started of hurriedly in the direction of the kitchen doors.
Lindraeus watched nervously as the two bodyguards approached the doors, stopping in front of the female bathroom door where the sound appromixately came from. Thinking only that Feyda might need to be warned, Lindraeus got up from the table and walked briskly toward the bathrooms and the bodyguards.
Meanwhile, Neseraph glanced over at Dante when he started talking, devising up the plan that his intoxicated brain had trouble forming. He nodded, agreeing with the bard, "Yeah, you got the right idea, man. We gotta beat feet. Hey, you seen Vi-"
Just as soon as Dante scooped up Insera and her head rolled passively over to see his face, the closest face to her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up slightly to kiss Dante right on the lips.
Which irked the drunken Neseraph. "Whoa, slow your role there, cowboy. How about-"

[center:1enkzlb2]BOOM!![/center:1enkzlb2]

A torrent of fire blew open the kitchen doors, roaring out in the main restaurant area. Adam was completely engulfed by it, his entire body set ablaze. He yelled at the top of his lungs, falling down onto his knees, his skin charring and blackening and bubbling near instantaneously. His agonized shouts continued as he collapsed completely to the ground, rolling around frantically and desperately in a hopeless attempt to save himself.
Lindraeus, caught extremely off guard, stumbled backward haphazardly after witnessing the fireball and Adam's fate and fell over a smaller table, toppling it over as he did.
The kitchen was almost a complete inferno. The black smoke drifted out of the kitchen, and the flames crawled quickly across the roof of the restaurant.
The panic was immediate. The murmurs were replaced with a chorus of terrified screams as everyone in The Midnight began to flood toward the entrance doors, pushing and shoving but ultimately clogging the only accessible exit of the restaraunt save for the windows. The two bodyguards glanced at each other, ready to dump their bullets into the wooden door of the suspected bathroom and bolt with the rest of the patronage.
"Oh shit!" Neseraph exclaimed as he shot up out of his seat. He waved his hand hurriedly at Dante, shouting, "Go! Go! Fuck! Get her out of here!"
He glanced around again, searching his surroundings quickly but his hazy eyes not finding what he sought. Looking back at Latira, he yelled over the panicked commotion, "Where's Vivante!? Did you see him?? Where did he go??"