Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Valentine Park

Aaro shrugged at Luca's comments, stuffing his face with cinnamon glazed fruitcake - a Genarium favorite. "Beats me," he managed between bites, "I guess that'd put them on even ground, right? Izaic's still sorta recovering from his fight with the Bear." He swallowed. "Not sure if you guys heard, by the way, but he's going back to Iveria - the Bear that is. His surgery was only marginally successful. Apparently he's getting some sort of druidic healing remedy to fix his leg. Magic and stuff."

He scratched behind his head. "Not sure who I'm rooting for, honestly. I was talking to Jimmy about this last night. Izaic is Monastic, sure, but he's kind of a dick. The Warden seems like a nice guy, at least. Sportsmanlike." He sighed. "I was rooting for Celeste, but..."

He didn't say anything more on that topic.

---

"Don't count on it."

The gruff rumble of Sir Savien Durandet made an ugly compliment to Perrin's laughter, not unfitting for the veteran paladin's condition. Savien walked up to his comrades with his left arm still in a sling, just barely fighting the hitch in his leg that would have reduced him to limping. He wore, as always, his half-visor helmet. A canvas of gauze covered an entire half of his face. What little skin was visible appeared pale and bloodless.

There had been stories, of course - rumors of the paladin who had faced Nox alone and had paid a terrible price. In the scant days since Savien had confronted the Caer, he had seen no one and had refused all but the most essential medical attention. Looking at him now - armor and all - it seemed Savien was far from recovered. Perhaps he was getting worse.

"Aurelion. Peregrine." He swallowed, his throat dry. "Thought you two might be up here." He nodded at each of them before looking out into the arena. "...can't believe they're going through with this. With all of... this..." He made a vague gesture at the festival. A tremor of pain bloomed from one of the puncture wounds in his chest, but he mastered himself in time and only shivered. "...Light..." His blistered lips pursed, teeth clenched tight in his mouth.

Savien cleared his throat, shrugging off the pain. "Look. I need to ask a favor of you two."
 
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"H-he's really not so bad..." Inarin mumbled, frowning at Aaro. "Just ... people don't give him a chance." The younger proselyte turned back to the ring, then blinked in surprise, staring. "Is... is that Sir Durandet? He looks ... awful."

Luca's frown deepened. "He looks like he should still be in the infirmary. Not just that, there are a lot more of the order here than usual. Something's up."


"Light's breath, Savien, what are you doing walking around?" Perrin stared at the badly injured knight with shock. "You're going to permanently cripple yourself at this rate, and then where will you be? Stuck in a wheelchair, trying to fight the good fight from half-height and only if there aren't any stairs?"

Aurelion frowned faintly and shook his head. "His manner of expressing it might be a little excessive, Sir Durandet, but Perrin's right. You really ought not be walking around in full plate with those injuries. But I'm equally sure you're fully aware of that..." he sighed. "What is it? You know more of this beast than anyone else. If you've a request, I'm more than willing to hear it."
 
Not far from Savien and the younger peers, another paladin stood guard. Where Durandet had a sling, Paladin Leandre carried a stout greatshield. He had been working on a long-term case that recently came to a close, and had insisted on looking after his peer, given the encounter he had. Where most other paladins had gleaming armor, ser Montagne's plate was a duller grey, covered in dents and scratches. Atop his head a red beret stood in lieu of a helmet, which combined with his heavy facial hair left little of his face visible.

The Fortress tried to keep his expression merrier than the scowl that dominated it, but he could not help but watch the crowds with extreme suspicion. Tensions were higher than ever, and he had been back for only a day or two. Some leftover adrenaline still coursed through his system, so he gripped the pommel of his blade tightly.
 
Beside the paladins, more so behind Savien, a massive figure strode towards the trio. As he passed him, the Golden offered a nod to the Fortress, respecting him for taking the duties of today seriously. Towering in fact, covered head to toe with refurbished and remade copper-steel armor, like a giant from the past. On his back was hung a reforged blade, one that had seen war, one that was steeped in Monastic history. The visor of his helmet, fashioned to resemble a roaring tiger, was drawn down over ancient features. No words or introductions were needed, not for this fellow soldier of the Light. This day, Kurtrin walked among them, grim and silent, hands sporadically twitching, as if he was suppressing the desire to draw Vindicator with every breath. For once it seemed like the weathered war hero didn't bring a cloud of bourbon and whiskey with him.

He had not overheard their conversation, nor did he care to have it repeated in his presence. However it was clear, despite eyes being hidden behind armor that shone like gold, his attention was focused solely on Sir Durandet. For the time being, he would wait, without announcing his presence with anything more than his appearance. The survivor of the Skirmishes had questions for his fellow paladin, and they could not wait any long. He spoke, very briefly, but gone were the grandfatherly mannerisms doubtless they'd all grown to expect from him. "Savien. Once you are done with your fellow Paladin's ears, I expect you to turn yours to me. I will wait, patiently, but not for long."

The pitch of his voice and the gruffness of his tone demanded obedience and immediate respect.

---------------------------------------------

He could not help but smile. Today was surely beautiful, despite the lack of sun and the chill in the air. It woke Izaic the longer he stood in the winter air. It wasn't too bad, thanks to various layers of armor and a generous helping of spiced cider, and nothing had happened quite yet to sour his mood. Far from it, between such an earlier start, and the pleasant exchange between Inarin and himself, both words and gifts, and his upcoming match, this Genarium was the first in nearly a decade that Izaic truly felt like celebrating.

This would not be the day to focus on the worries of days gone by, or old grudges. This was the first day in the newest chapter of his life. Before weeks end, or so he hoped, it would be time for him to finally take his pledge and his Silver. Thirteen years of training would soon pay off, and he would join the ranks of his brothers and sisters as a stalwart protector of this city and all its citizens.

The proselyte couldn't remember the last time he had smiled this much, or this long.

Still, despite his overall chipper mood, he could not bring himself to join his companions and peers. As always, he preferred his solitude, near the entrance of the festival grounds. Given his positions, it was impossible for him to miss the entrance of the Castellanes and their entourage. The corners of his shaved cheeks which held up his grin faltered ever so slightly.
 
After a harrowing of evening of searching the Phantom Quarter without success, Crista had gone home not finding the ghouls from the day before. Today she had other concerns: there was a large movement of paladins ordered to be present in Valentine Park. She wasn't sure on the details as to why they were called there but she knew it couldn't be for a good reason. Once she arrived, she parked up her bike and got down. She noticed now just how many paladins were actually here. It was shocking. Whatever was happening it was big. Maybe there was someone around who knew more. Crista looked around the park, also taking in the festivities that were taking place. She wished she could bring Luka to something like this, but she couldn't be seen with him, not to mention it probably wasn't safe for him out here.

As Crista walked through the park she caught sight of Savien speaking to two other paladins. Her eyes widened when she took in the severity of his condition. Crista had been kept too busy in the Phantom Quarter to listen to any rumors going around the order, and so hadn't heard about what happened to Savien.
 
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Perhaps it was poor form to make the last day of the Aurellae the first that one attended, but Manon was a busy woman, between her overseas assets, tending to her mother and effectively managing the family business herself, she had little time for such frivolities. But it was good to reward oneself every once and a while, was it not? To find respite from hard work, at least for a few hours. All work and no play made Jeanne a dull girl, after all. The slightest hint of a smile crept across her lips at the thought of that old maxim, not even glancing back to either of her bodyguards as she ascended the steps to the stands with silent grace, taking a moment at the top to seemingly catch her breath, a common cover for her to check that she still wore her charm. The light touch of her hand upon the pendant around her neck accompanied a sigh befitting one of Lutetia's feminine elite, her fingers glancing over the contours of an unseen raven's skull, disguised neatly as some family heirloom or another.

It wasn't entirely untrue to call it such - after all, it belonged to her 'mother'.

In short order the click of her heels resumed once more, albeit now echoing with the metal and wood that was underfoot as she maneuvered to some spot or another, so long as it was free. Lady Corvus had no particular desire for a box or booth, having long ago found the advantages to discretion and secrecy far superior to those that any social hobnobbing might bring. All the social scene in this city managed to do was waste time, and time was money to Manon. Indeed, she would be hard pressed to engage in such affairs even if she desired to do so, what with her common business trips at home and abroad. Even now she struggled to get the last of the Caldonian dust from her boots, the smirk disappearing as she recalled the frustration that venture yielded, despite its profit. As the woman settled into her seat, the two bodyguards taking up positions nearby, she mentally she tallied what she had accomplished in the last month, fingers moving across her lap as she silently touched on each deal, every sale. All for the cause.

"Clovis," She spoke, the first word to pass her lips since she arrived in the park, looking over her shoulder to one of her wardens, one of her hands moving once more to her breast, "Do you think you could fetch me something to drink? I fear I'm still rather parched." With a silent nod, the bodyguard moved to stand, departing down the steps to find something suitable for the lady Corvus. Traveling had a way of perturbing her delicate nature, or so she lead others to believe. Another sigh preceded the turn of her gaze outward to the festival, eyes falling on the throngs of people who moved here and there, and the lilting, lazy movement of the ferris wheel above it all, and it occurred to her that some sorts considered this entertaining.

No wonder she spent the last week in Caldonia.
 
"I think I got to know him preeeetty well at the fistfight tourney," Aaro winced and rolled his shoulder forward. "And I've sparred with him more times than I care to count. That guy just does not take the knob off of 'ten'."

He winced at Savien. "Huh. Yeah, it is. Man, he got beat up worse than Sir Lacroix." He took another bite. "Why is that happening so frequently nowadays? Paladins and wardens getting beat up. I feel like we're not very intimidating - walking around with bandages and crutches 9 days out of 10."

---
If Savien's eyes had been visible to them, they would have been staring daggers.

"I'm fine." He snarled. "Don't you two start lecturing me - I've heard it all from the Council. It's bad enough Andre won't leave me alone." He jerked his thumb at the imposing veteran paladin. Anyone in the Order could spot Sir Leandre Montagne a mile away by the greatshield he carried. "The Fortress". Not a title given lightly. Savien had all the respect in the world for his comrade and friend, but he hated feeling weak. He was fine, dammit. A broken arm and some flesh wounds - that's it. Why couldn't anyone else see that?

"Listen," he came close, "I need you to treat tonight like a worst case scenario." He gruffed and shook his head. "That should go without saying, but so many of us don't believe it... don't understand how fucking close this city is to disaster. It happens tonight, understand? Whatever's going to happen, it goes down here and now. Believe that. If you don't believe that, pretend to." He looked at Leon. "Aurelion - or Perrin, either one of you - when it happens, I need you to get the proselytes out. I don't know why he has such a sick fascination with them, with children in general, but I think he'll target them specifically..."

It was then that the Golden interjected. Savien turned, offering his brother a nod, before doing a double take. Not in his ten years of personally knowing Kurtrin had Savien ever seen the paladin as he appeared before him now - his armor mended and gleaming, his posture straight and disciplined. Kurtrin had always been an imposing figure, but now, without alcohol to dilute his presence, he seemed a titan among men.

This, he thought to himself, this is why they call him 'The Golden.' He'd never truly understood it till now.

"Of course, Sir Hayes. Just one moment." He swallowed and turned back to Leon and Perrin. "Can you two do that for me? You're two of the best knights here, it's why I'm asking you. Leon - some call you the best knight in the Order." He raised a finger. "Don't argue that. I'm not complimenting you, I'm stating a fact. I need to count on my brothers tonight, and I need the best the Monastery can offer."

---

"Crista!"

Sir Jonas Virn approached the dame - the two of them not far from the Monastic medley of heroes that was Kurtrin, Savien Aurelion, Perrin and Leandre.

"You finally came to the Aurellae." He sported a handsome grinned. "I hate to inform you, but you're about six days late."
 
Aurelion's eyes went across to where Inarin and the others were seated, briefly making eye contact with his brother, who offered a tentative wave. Aurelion tried to smile back, but he knew it was plainly forced. "I'll be out here for a while," he stated. "They've put me up for the tournament, a show match to make up for Noah being out of action. But as soon as that's done with, I'll stay close to them. If you think that's who he'll target..."

"Do we seriously think he's going to attack us here, and now?" Perrin glanced between the gathered paladins with a disbelieving look, still half-smiling in an attempt to fend off the dour mood. "We've got half the order here, and half of them in full power armour. He can't possibly ... can he?"

"Don't underestimate a Caer, Perrin," Aurelion turned to face Peregrine with a scowl that the Lacroix had never seen his friend direct at him before. It was furious, bordering on frightening. "We let our guards down and he and his kin - and I don't doubt for a minute he's got kin, given how long he's had to gather strength - will turn this festival into a killing field."

Perrin's smile faded. For a moment, he was uncharacteristically speechless, and then he nodded. "Alright... I still find it hard to believe, but... I'm not about to doubt you two. If you think it's going to happen ... I'll treat it like it's a sure thing." It had been less than a year since he'd taken the silver, after all. He wasn't going to do himself any favours by doubting his more experienced brothers-in-arms. "I'll keep an eye on the proselytes while you're putting on a show, Leon." His smile returned, and he patted the pair of lawkeepers at his belt. "And there aren't many eyes better than mine."

Aurelion nodded. "Good. See if you can have a word with the Castellanes' bodyguards, too," he scanned the crowd briefly before pointing out the well-dressed man in the stands. "That's one of them. Ex-LPD, Adam Cornett. Not exactly the most reputable man in the city, but he's good at his job. Having his team on high alert too will be a boon. They doubtless already know what they're dealing with, given the twins' run in with the Caer last week."

"Got it," Perrin nodded again. "I'll catch up with you later." He turned to nod at Savien, Kurtrin, and Leandre... then paused, looked back at Kurtrin and goggled for a few moments before forcing himself not to comment and striding off through the crowd towards the stands.
 
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And so, the final day of the Aurellae arrived. The conclusion of the festival, and the true beginning of winter. Fittingly, there was a light snowfall on the morrow, and as dawn broke over the park it cast its light upon a fine dusting of white decorating the grass and the trees. The sky was grey with a veil of clouds, but the mood at the festival was not to be soured by it. Excitement abounded for the conclusions of the two most popular tournaments: the fencing and the sparring. The crowds were beginning to gather for the sparring tournament's final bout, which would be held first, at eleven o'clock.

Inarin had made his way over from the Monastery with Luca, Aaro and Camille after his conversation with Izaic earlier that morning, and was sat with them in the stands waiting for the sparring to begin. The young proselyte wore his new sword strapped to his back. "I th-think Izaic will win," he was saying. "Noah is really good, but... Izaic has had longer to train, and has the strength and reach advantage... I just hope Noah actually wears armour today..." He grimaced at the thought of the warden being struck by one of Izaic's swings without any proper protection. Even with a sparring blade, that wouldn't be pleasant.

"I had heard that he was injured somehow," Luca said, frowning. "My roommate saw him in the Monastery infirmary on Monday morning, when he went to see the nurses about food poisoning from some festival food. Perhaps he's recovered enough to spar, but if not... What do you suppose they will do?"
Click to expand...

Instead of the extreme fineries from the previous day, Camille wore a rather plain getup of slacks, a shirt and coat, at least as plain as the Peacock could be. His father had insisted on bringing his armor and weapons for some reason. He had tried to ask why, but Lucas was giving him little in the way of explanation.
"I wouldn't discount Noah so quickly," Lacroix shrugged, "I may have made some terrible mistakes during our bout, but the man's quick. I'd argue he's quicker than I am most of the time."
"Wait, he did?" The noble raised an eyebrow. "If that's the case, then yeah, I'd have to agree with you In."
Soon after, a familiar buzz in his pocket. A text, from his father.


You remember where the tent is, right?​

He frowned, and shot a response.​

Yeah. Why are you so nervous?
​
I just am. Perrin was too and so was Kurtin, it's not just me. Promise you'll come here if something bad happens, okay?
​
Camille sighed.​
I promise. Love you dad
​
I love you too. Raph and Luci are gone, you know.

​
Gone. As far as he was concerned, Raphael didn't exist, and Lucille hasn't yet expressed interest in coming home. Neither were dead, but in a way he was right.
 
Jimmy was more silent than usual, something bothering him about everything that was going on, about the things he had heard, the whispering and the rumors. He hadn’t wanted to come to the final day, but needed to be close to Inarin and Aaro, wanting to make sure they out of all of the Proselytes… out of his friends were safe. He sighed, running his fingers through his dark hair, eyes glancing around as he followed along with the group. Spotting both In and Aaro, he started to go towards them, but hesitated, unsure what to do. He desperately wanted to tell them both the truth, fearing he might never get a choice, but his feet seemed planted to the ground. A dark jacket was pulled tight around his lanky form and he couldn’t help but be jealous that he hadn’t been allowed to participate at all.
“Hnn…” He shook his head, returning his focus back to the group, grinning a little. “Because we don’t have anything else to gossip about.” He nudged Val a little, following the group towards the stands.

Mia had been at the Park most the time, sticking mostly with herself since Neera and Souci were not around, though that tended to happen occasionally. She was perched in the stand, near where Inarin, Camille, and Aaro where at along with some others, fingers running through her blonde hair. She was enthralled by the different events and knew without a doubt that if she survived and if there was a chance, she was going to participate in the Aurellae events the next year. That was a mighty big if though, one she wasn’t counting on, not with how things were progressing.
 
"Its good to see you'll be putting the protection of our next generation above your own. Commendable in fact." A heavy gauntlet word rest itself upon Sir Durandet's pauldron as gingerly as it could. "We can speak here, or we can speak in private, but it makes little difference to me." Then, so unlike the man they'd all known most, if not their entire lives, and without a care for whatever pain he'd inflict or wounds he might open, Kurtrin would force Savien to face him, spinning him in place so that their visors would lock.

Savien would barely be able to make out the ancient paladin's eyes behind his copper armor, but what little he could see would shine with such a fierceness, such a sullen hate, the man seemed more demon than he did servant of the light.

"Did he tell you his name? Tell me boy, and tell me quick. Which foul spawn of Nito's loins afflicts our city still?!" The veteran would do his best to keep the volume of his voice low, but in lieu of screaming, each word dripped with a severe intensity, as well as a serious lack of patience.
 
Crista turned her attention to Jonas, an expression of worry still evident on her face.

"Oh, hello Jonas. Yes, I've been preoccupied with business in the Phantom Quarter lately, but I know we were called to be here today. I just don't know why. I wasn't given the details and I've been a bit out of the loop. I'm worried about what is going to happen..."

She glanced back at a damaged Savien who seemed to be involved in a very intense conversation with the elder paladin.
 
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"Well, then you should all lead less boring lives," Val retorted with a huff, folding his arms.

"What's up, Jimmy?" Arien raised an eyebrow, then followed his gaze. "Ah, and there they all are." He paused, examining Jimmy's expression. "Is something wrong?"

While they hesitated, the twins had already started to gravitate over to the group of proselytes. "Hey Iiinariiin," called Al, grinning broadly. "And Cammy. And the other, less cute ones too, I suppose!"

Luca's eyes swivelled to the approaching teenagers and he grimaced. "Oh, joy..." he murmured, but forced his expression back into a polite (but clearly forced) smile of greeting.

"Stop flirting with the church kids, Al," Elisa rolled her eyes as she followed them over. "You're going to tempt them away from the Light, and then where will our city be in a generation?" The Voclain girl smirked. Even out of her resplendent dress from last night, there was still something newly appealing about her to those that had been familiar with her before. New makeup? Or was it just a change in her posture, making her come across as more genuinely confident than before? "What's up, kiddos?"

"H-hey guys!" Inarin flashed a smile to the group, a little overwhelmed by their tumbling into the conversation. He paused to briefly peer past them at where Arien and Jimmy had held back for a moment, before being distracted as the twins took the seats next to him. Val flashed him a bright and pleasant smile, and Inarin flushed slightly, remembering the kiss from earlier.

"How'd that stuff you had to do go?" Val asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Ah... w-well," Inarin answered with a broad smile. "Really well, actually."

Val's eyebrow rose slightly further at the lack of explanation, but he opted not to push further, simply smiling again. "I'm glad. Hopefully the rest of the day goes just as well for all involved."

In the meantime, Al leaned forwards towards Camille, grinning at him. "Are you ready to dance later on, Cammy? I've been practising. Hopefully I'll be able to give you a little more fun than Phonsey managed. He never was quite as potent with his sword as I was..."

Behind him, Elisa rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible.
 
"Hah! I'll get right on that, Val, though I feel like my life's been pretty exciting lately." Jimmy scrunched his nose up a little, trying not to think of his father or what happened since that day. Not all of it was bad, but not all of it was awesome either. In truth, he was lucky that Arien gave him this opportunity, because he would likely have turned into a furry beast and they probably would have slayed him. Running fingers through his ebony hair, he shifted his gaze over towards Arien at the question while the rest joined the others in the stands. "It seems so stupid to continue the festival amid everything that's happening. I'm worried about my friends, about what could happen to them and I'm afraid I won't be strong enough to save them or protect them. I also really hate lying to In and Aaro." Jimmy sighed, shrugging a little before stretching his arms out above his head, popping his back, shoulders, and neck. "I'll be fine, just a bit of melancholy."
 
"Hm." Arien frowned, folding his arms and looking off up at the overcast sky. "I can't say I'm totally up to date on what he's doing right now, but attacking the festival? That'd be... ambitious, even for him. This place is paladin central right now." The vampire sighed, shrugging and shaking his head. "I dunno, Jimmy. If I thought we could persuade them, I'd be telling them to ditch the whole proselyte thing, 'cause it's like a target painted on their backs. As it stands? Just encourage them to keep their heads down. Be insignificant enough to get overlooked, and hope the church deals with him."

He glanced back at Jimmy, rolling his shoulders. "As for lying to them, I don't see we have much choice. They're proselytes. You don't want to put them in a position where they have to choose between you and staying loyal to their order."
 
Camille stuffed his phone into his pocket when he heard a familiar voice call out to him. "I'm flattered that I'm part of the cute crowd." As Al leaned forward to tease him, Lacroix did the same, his nose mere inches from Castellane's before he pushed the peer back with a finger to the forehead. "You'll have to manage to hit me first."

He noticed Elisa's sudden transition to being slightly less skanky, but otherwise he didn't care enough to say anything.
 
"Ms. Corvus."

Manon might follow the voice to find a well-dressed young gentleman walking over from the other side of the stands. Tall, broad-shouldered with hair as black as soot and oceanic eyes - there was no mistaking him. Jean-Curas Taramon, heir to one of Lutetia's more influential shipping and export corporations. Like her, he'd recently spent some time away overseas - but in Therrier-Paix, not Caldonia.

"What an absolute pleasure." Unless deterred by her bodyguards, Jean-Curas would offer to receive her hand. "I must wonder if you remember me. It's been a handful of years since the gala at the Monroe Estate." He grinned - a handsome gesture. "I do believe you showed me the proper way to 'hold a champagne glass'. I'm still half convinced you made it all up on the spot."

---

Savien winced as Kurtrin spun him around, but offered no protest. Perhaps he heard in Kurtrin's voice that same desperate anger which had recently infected his own thoughts. Savien had faced a Caer but once - Kurtrin had fought them for entire years.

"He gave no name. It's the same as in my report," he replied, "the same as the proselytes described him. Frost magics. Fear aura. Superhuman strength, reflexes. Can shift into... a demon." He shook his head - unable to meet the Golden's eye, visor or no.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I couldn't stop him. I failed."

---

Aaro grinned as they were approached by what he affectionately referred to as "The Castellane Gang" (or "Castegang". It was a working title). He looked over at Inarin, counting how many times he blushed in a sentence. He had a running bet with Jimmy and the young Nuvellon would have to break at least twelve by the end of the day.

"Alas, we cannot all be as boyishly handsome as Inarin," Aaro feigned a swoon, throwing himself on Luca's shoulder. "What can we do, Luke? What do our proselytehoods mean if we're not being courted by smoking hot androgynous twins with truckloads of money?"

He looked up and noticed Mia by herself not far away.

"Hey! Mia!" He waived. "Come and sit with us!"
 
Jimmy really hoped that Arien was right, because he wasn’t sure he could handle losing anyone else he cared about. Life was fucking brutal and he learned that the hard way. Shifting his gaze away from Arien over to the group and back again, he knew that he was correct about not telling In and Aaro. He would never put them in that position, though if it came down to it, he’d die for them. “You’re right, Arien. No need to put them in that position. Maybe someday things will change, but until then… I am going to do my best to keep them safe. I guess we should join them before they get curious about what we’re talking about so privately.”

Hearing someone calling her name, Mia’s brow arched as she glanced around the stands. Realizing it came from behind and to the side of where she was sitting, the Proselyte glanced back towards Aaro and his group, realizing who the voice belonged to. Did she really want to go sit with them after that fiasco? No, but it sure beat sitting alone. Her gaze fell upon the twins and she couldn’t help but stare, fascinated by them. Realizing she was probably being rude, her gaze drifted towards the female with the group, jealous of her beauty. After a few minutes, she slid up to her feet and moved up and over to where they were at.

“Hey, Aaro… thanks for the invite. Been lone wolfing it for a while. So to speak.”
 
"If anyone asks," Arien remarked with a sly grin. "We were just flirting obscenely, and felt it best not to do so too loudly in company." He winked, and without giving Jimmy a chance to reply, headed over to join the others.

"I always found that easier when there was an 'on' in the sentence," Al was replying to Camille as they approached, grinning back at the smaller boy as his forehead was poked away. "I guess I'll have to improvise. Who knows? Maybe I can mix the two together with a little improv."

Luca gave Aaro a dour sidelong glance. "A lot more than if we were, I'd wager," he stated dryly. "I suppose we'll have to make do with coexisting quietly with our dignity."

"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?" Elisa snorted, leaning down to prop herself up with an arm on one of Luca and Aaro's shoulders each. "Come on, don't be so stiff. Save it for when you graduate." She flashed a grin to Luca and then a nod of greeting to Mia as she approached. "Elisabeth Voclain, I don't think we've had the pleasure."

Luca shifted slightly uncomfortably at the close proximity of the archbishop's daughter, and the extremely close proximity of certain ... aspects of her. "I'm merely ... holding myself by the code we're supposed to, demoiselle."

"Boooring." Elisa rolled her eyes. "Isn't he boring, Aaro? Inarin?"

Inarin blinked, hearing his name and glancing over. "Huh? Oh. Uh ... I don't think ... Luca's not boring, just... reserved." Luca gave him a flat look, at that, and he shrugged helplessly. "What? It's not a bad thing..."

Val grinned, leaning onto Inarin's shoulder and stage-whispering into his ear. "I bet beneath that icy surface lurks a real fire. The quiet ones are always the kinkiest once you break down their walls. Also, Elisa, weren't you just telling Al not to flirt with the church kids?"

Inarin couldn't help but snicker, though he immediately tried to suppress it. Luca just looked mortified.

"Hon', if I was flirting, you'd know it," Elisa retorted with a smirk. "This is just a little verbal sparring."


At the bottom of the stands, Perrin had worked his way over to where Adam was sat, idly working his way through a donut. "Mr. Cornell?" he questioned as he approached.

Adam raised an eyebrow at the paladin. "The same. How can I be of assistance to you, Sir Knight?"

"I'm lead to understand you're on protection detail for the Castellane boys today, is that right?"

"That is indeed correct." Adam frowned. "Is there a problem?"

"That remains to be seen..." Perrin sighed, glancing around at the crowd. "We have reason to think that a certain individual, whose identity I believe you're aware of, may be making a move at the festival today. We thought we should let you and your team know."

The ex-cop's frown deepened. "That is unfortunate. But I do hope you aren't expecting us to do any more than's necessary to protect our charges. All due respect, Sir Knight, but we aren't heroes like yourself. We do a job."

Perrin suppressed the urge to scowl at the man, his neutral expression twitching only ever so slightly. "Of course. The safety of the twins is just as valuable to us as the lives of any Lutetian citizen. If warning you helps you protect them, then it's a warning worth giving regardless."

Adam nodded his head. "Then we understand each other. Thank you for the heads up, Sir Knight. And rest assured, if it poses no unnecessary risk to our charges or ourselves, we'll see what we can do for anyone else in the vicinity. We aren't heartless, after all. Just not heroes."

His expression softening somewhat, Perrin nodded. It was far from a solid promise of aid, but it was better than nothing. "It's appreciated, Mr. Cornell. I'll leave you to your vigil. And Happy Genarium."

With that, the Lacroix turned and stepped away, to take up a position near the edge of the stands that the proselytes and their friends were seated on.
 
Behind his helmet, Kurtrin ground his teeth. Another useless answer, but he could hardly blame Savien for his lack of information. Those demons hardly ever bothered to introduce themselves, but the more he heard, the more he was sure it was...the one she had spoken about. The one she'd cried for, swore would tear them all apart in her place. He could still hear it, echoing in his thoughts, his dreams...

"My brother! My brother will tear you all apart! Hes the strongest, the hungriest, he is father's Dog of War!" She cried it out, amid the sounds of steel being shred and flesh being rend, her own and those of the knights that fell before her in droves. Those eyes, those eyes! How they shone, bright as winter stars, devouring life and light around her while her own body never seemed to waver...though it was. Slowly but surely, the limbs grew back slower, her energy began to decay, her magic began to falter. The taunting, cackling screams turned into shrieks of despair and desperation. "Nononono! I cannot die!! Father always said I was free! Nox! Brother! Where are you?! Save me, you always said you would protect me, where are yo-" A broken blade, nearly useless, wielded with the last strength the human arms wielding it could muster, slice the horror from scalp to heart in a single blow, cutting off words, and life, at least long enough for the rest of Kurtrin's compatriots to rush in with their own strokes and hacks. The world faded to black then...

Shaking his head free of memories more than half a century passed, the Golden released his grip on Sir Duradet's shoulders, taking a modest step back. "I...you would not be the first. Nor do I suspect you will be the last. These are not...you already know. These are not normal bloodsuckers. They can tolerate the Sun's grace. They feed on flesh, and terror, and blood, and innocence. You are right to put the protection of the young ones first. I suspect...I know why he targets them. Walk with me, if you will."

He turned his back on them, expecting Savien to follow close behind. "You others are free to join us as well. I see no issue with hiding my knowledge any longer. Come. You may finally get answers to questions you hounded me for when you were children..."
 
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