Thread: Dead God -- RESTRUCTURED, NO SLOTS, O/A

Festival of Lights
Third Week of Summer

It is the warmest night of summer in the city of rings, and every ring-street is celebrating the grace of their god. The aqueducts above and below, crumbling and pristine, each and every one is aglow with an endless train of floating lights. This day the priests of Loegir do not make their nightly patrol through each and every street, setting afire and then locking the lightboxes on every street.

This night is not, in actuality, all that different from any other, at least in the case of the heresy of fire. Like all flames within the city, the candles floating the waterway are priestess-made. And like everything else in the city, they move from the inside of the city, out. By the time they get midway through the city, their flame will have extinguished and they will have become litter in the outer ring slums.

It is this lovely night which celebrates not only the light Loegir provides the city in its darkest hours, but also the arrival of a rather curious man. A famous troubadour from one of Seboet's rival city-states, Valtir arrives under the promise of diplomatic immunity to entertain the city's wealthier--read: holier--citizens. And tonight, he will. But first: he sets up along the Temple Road, in the market hub, where the less fortunate may hear him play as well.

Old enemies arrive to see him play: The Seer has heard whispers of The Flame reassembling, and worse, rumors that this bard is a heretic sympathizer. Agents have been sent to investigate. Across the city, The Seeress has heard similar rumors, and has sent her own people to investigate as well.

Though The Bard sides with none, he has ears for everyone. As the bard cycles through a few instruments--an oud and a lute among them--he glances through the crowd. He sees more than he lets on.

Note: The Seer will be able to see the performance from his Inner Sanctum window if he does not wish to leave. If any Faithful wish to remain in the Inner Sanctum with him, this is acceptable. However it is suggested to begin the game with everyone in one area.

As ever, the Seeress of the slums is silent as a mouse. She waits patiently for the collection of people who have somehow found themselves under her command, to exit the bathhouse through the back door. As ever, she will follow last--and lead from behind.

The once-priestess was not born a leader, nor did she ever desire to be one. It is not a role well suited for one who struggles to raise their voice above a whisper--though even she still isn't sure whether it is as a result of some physical or mental difficulty on her part. Strange things happen when the reality-bending iron will of an innate is broken. Unfortunate things.

Since Alistair's sudden disappearing nearly five years ago, she found herself simply falling into his place. She was perhaps his most loyal agent, that little girl who whispered in her kidnapper's ear the secrets of her old life. It was an odd relationship they shared, the mute albino gypsy and the scholarly rebel commander. She had Seen that she would be among the priestesses taken, and she was taken. And this had become her new life.

She had sought out the old agents, dug them out of hiding and oh-so-quietly asked if they would return to service. Loyalty at it's best, though her struggles with her beliefs had long since come to a near-halt. She had sought out others, mercenaries and slum-dogs praying--well, not praying, to be precise--for a chance to make a life worth living. If not for themselves, for their children, their children's children...

Adele gently nudged herself out of her thoughts and into the present moment, realizing she'd been slowly making her way down the steps from the back room of Dahlia's. She'd asked Dahlia to accompany her to the Temple Road--even had one of her girls help her with her dark wig and makeup, an odd-feeling thing to wear, but something she had taken to doing as she was nothing if not obvious in a crowd. Though she still wasn't sure if Sister Farah would do so.

She'd asked her agents--one by one, so she did not need to speak loudly--to make their ways to the market hub separately, and stay that way. The last thing they needed was to look like a crowd.

It was not difficult to find the troubadour Valtir. Music was an almost constant reminder of better things--or worse things, if the player was especially terrible--in the city, especially the busier roads. But a talented musician here was rarer than a flame outside of a temple. The cultists had little use for much more than a trumpeteer.

Adele glanced towards the waterway to try to spy her reflection--a difficult thing, with so dark a night and so many candles afloat--and ensure her appearance was still suitable enough for now. She ducked under a cloth banner and leaned against a crumbling stone wall, her attempt at acting a poor one. Eyes darting between Valtir and the crowd, her nonchalant leaning against the wall appearing not-so-nonchalant, she waited for anything.

Jacob watched from far off to the side of the market hub, away from the crowding working and middle class. He sat atop a crate of pottery and ceramics that was sturdy enough to hold his weight. His trained eyes watched as the bard stroked the strings of his instrument, enjoying the mysterious yet powerful melody that echoed from his lyre. It was mesmerizing how he did so with close to little effort. It was almost like when the sniper fired an arrow or pulled the trigger of his rifle. Graceful and efficient.

"Ah... It's been so long since I've seen such emotion in music..." The sandy-haired young man muttered as he watched the entranced masses gather around him, some tossing coins and others cheering him on. Jacob would normally join them and enjoy the music but he had been given strict orders to observe from afar. He took no pleasure in that but he obeyed. He did wonder why he was given such an order though. The seer could see every detail himself if he so desired.

Jacob took no true pleasure out of his work these days. The Faithful were as the name implied, Faithful. Some were at the point of pure zealotry. The Sniper had arrived from the north with no knowledge and no interest in the faith of Seboet. What mattered to him was the protection and pay that the temple gave to those that served it well. Sadly, that meant that he would have to swallow his pride and allow the ambiguity of the Seer and the fanaticism of the cult to take the reigns.

The mercenary played with the strand of his head band that hung to the side of his face. Observation was boring work, even if it was observing an excellent musician. He had to be doing something with his hands or he would grow irritable. This was Ironic since most of his jobs involved waiting in one place for hours to kill one man but that was different. He would be holding a rifle in his hands and be busy looking for points to shoot. How a brash man like him became a renowned sniper is a bit of a mystery.

"This man... Is he really someone to threaten the Seer...?" Jacob thought as he continued to watch the man play. Truth be told, other than an air of mystery, he seemed like any other bard. Playing for the happiness of others... with the side benefit of payment of course.

From inside a golden carriage sat the Seer of Seboet. The vehicle had stopped to allow the caravan to meet up with some additional priests that would be escorting them along the streets of the city. The additional men meant little to the icon inside.

Azil’s only concern was insuring that he was not to be left alone without his special squad. Having ordered them to strategically stake out along the streets, he expected to see each one of them awaiting his commands amongst the crowd as he passed on by. For their own sakes they had better insure that did as they were told. For if he discovered that-

A single sharp note echoed out vibrating through the inside of the carriage.

Oh Loegir. Behind the many veils and drapes covering the holy figure, his face had dropped into an expression of pure terror. It was happening again.

The song was slow to start up, a simple lulling hum, but as always the tune grew until it was practically shaking the walls around him. Covering his ears in a desperate attempt to drive away the unwanted sound he called out, “DAIIIIIIIIR! Oh god… DAIR WHERE ARE YOU?“

The haunting melody bore deep into the mind of the restless Seer. For many nights he had heard those notes- each one etching itself down upon his already wavering psyche. Those crescendos and subtle drops in tunes were pushing and pulling his sanity to its limit. Even worse, was the sickening truth that the torturous tune did not seem to reach the ears of any others.

The cryptic act of witnessing visions and voices that only he saw was no rare act. Typically such a thing would be welcome. It was his duty- his privilege. However he was finding it difficult to see the benefit from these taunting songs. He wanted it to stop, making his only option quite obvious. That damned bard had to be silenced. Why else would Loegir be punishing him like this?

“DAIR!” he was practically shrieking now.

Oh Loegir, in these past years the messages from the god had become so muddled. As the church’s Oracle he was mad to interpret the uninterruptable, but what could be said about the strange thing he was made to see nowadays. So often he saw horrors and dreadful dreams that should not ever pass through the mind of any loyal lamb of the one true god.

The tune let out a daring boom throwing the Seer forward onto the gold plated floor. Struggling to get up, he felt the weight of the music was just too much. The coverings meant to protect him ensnared him in a web of lace and hand woven silks. Frustrated flailing did no good in removing the obstructions. In fact, it only made things worse. Try as he might to get free, the noise pressed down against him, humbling him against the might of whatever was producing that awful sound.

This just meant that his mission in life was incomplete. It had to mean that. The Flame must still be contaminating his streets spreading their trickeries into the ears of the unsuspecting. He could almost see that white witch mocking him. That traitor- that harlot- had sold her soul to that deceitful devil. It was impossible to believe that he had at one time tried to save her. No. She deserved the fate that had fallen her. Her poor decisions and sins would serve to be an example for others. Only then would her meaningless life be put to good use. That was the only use for such a heretic.

First off he would see that bard hung. Then he would hunt down Adele. The thought of seeing both of them strung up brought the Seer much delight. He laughed hysterically. Oh it would be glorious! But the feeling did not last long. His world was rumbling. The very ground threatened to split open and devour the vehicle- pinned Seer and all. He needed to get out of here- to get away from that song. Otherwise, he had no doubts that it would kill him right here and now.

“DAIRRR!” he wailed out a pathetic cry in pure desperation, “P-please... H-help me.”

Draining the last of the filled tubs, a single-seating tiled master piece, Dahlia wandered around her shop seeing to all the menial tasks necessary for her to close down the shop for the evening. The floor would need scrubbing when she returned. Perhaps she would push one of the Flame members to do the task for her. Goodness knew that she found enough of those members lazing around. If they were to spend all their time in her backroom they might as well make themselves useful.

Once she was sure that everything was tended to she gave one last glance to a hung mirror. That curled pomegranate hair was held up by several golden bobbles wonderfully accenting a slimming sari- a luxury she would have never been allowed while under the watch of the temple. The ladies of Loegir were meant to be pure and free of all worldly material temptations, including superficial indulgences. Ironically enough, her new job was all about promoting shallow desires. This twist of fate suited her just fine. Hennaed hands tucked away a stray lock and with that she deemed herself ready to go.

Finding the poorly disguised Seeress struggling to relax, Dahlia sighed pulling out a compact of the tan covering. The girl was a fragile looking thing. Had she not known what powers the ex-priestess possessed, she might have pitied the quiet girl. Bringing the sponge to the fellow Innate's face she fearlessly attacked a smeared blotch covering the girl’s nose until she was satisfied that it was covered well enough to be acceptable.

“Closing down the shop during such an important event… Such an unimaginable loss.” She tutted mourning over the profit that she would not be gaining this evening. This would put her back quite a bit. This event was supposed to be bringing in hundreds of customers desiring to look their best. Instead she was standing out here with no clue as to what was going on- and no desire to honestly change that- and not making a single coin. “This little game of yours better be worth it, Miss Faa.”

Her thoughts about uprisings and daring battles were few and fleeting for Dahlia. Had she not been approached by the growing terrorist organization she would have been quite content living out her final years under the roof of her humble shop. But they had and she had agreed to occasionally lift a hand for them when it was convenient for her. She found it quite nice to have the option of defying the men who had dumped her into this hellhole of a location with practically nothing to call her own.

“So what plans do you have for us, dear Seeress?” , she asked already slightly bored as she snapped closed the makeup and tucked it under her outfit. If she was to escort the silent leader around she might as well understand what they were going to do.

She had watched them all, during their meetings, watched them all team up and work hard for their 'cause'. Lyseria believed in it, of course, but not at the expense of her own well being. She wanted everyone to be free, she wanted the ability to choose her life, but she didn't want to be hung like the fate of so many from the rebellion five years ago.

Lyseria had wisened up since then.

She'd been a diehard before, more loyal than any of the rest of them. But Alistair had never appreciated the girl's loyalty. She'd always been brave and smart and fairly sneaky. To Alistair though, she was never better than a casual attendee of a speech, even though she'd gathered more information for them than she could recall. It had always been that damn Adele, that stupidly silent priestess that didn't even have the courage to speak higher than a whisper, much less sneak into a noble's bedchamber to find a plan. Adele had been Alistair's little prize, his precious little doll, and Lyseria was left on the side with no respect at all. She had looked up to Alistair like a child looks up to a parent, and he had shown her no affection.

And then he'd disappeared and now Lyseria was forced to listen to that infuriating little albino who still couldn't raise her voice above a whisper, even though she was leading a rebellion. The moment the whispers of the rebellion struck her ears, Lyseria leapt onto it, being just as loyal as the rest, though she was whispering in the ears of the seer's favorites. It ensured Lyseria's safety and gave her the satisfaction of going behind that awful albino's back.

And so, Lyseria was at the celebration, just like everyone else. She was there both as eyes of the seer and the Flame. A small smirk crossed her lips as she strode through the crowd, hearing the bard's beautiful music as she made her way to a spot where she couldn't be disturbed by Adele. That was the last thing she needed, besides, she'd likely need to talk to one of the seer's trusted afterwards, letting them know that they were all here and interested in the bard. They likely already knew it, but Lyseria was the best word for them on the Flame's activities. Thus far, what she'd said had never led them astray and it would stay that way. Lyseria wasn't going to lose this time. Alistair wasn't there to make her think he cared, so there was no one to make her question her actions.

Besides, Alistair had only made her think he'd cared, he'd never actually cared. And that had been the sealing kiss in Lyseria's conversion to the Faith. Well not the Faith so much, but as herself, and revenge on Adele didn't hurt either.

A golden statue stood to the side of the Oracle's carriage, armor glistening warmly with the reflection of a hundred muffled little lights. Though the statue's mask was turned towards the front, the eyes beneath darted between all the wonders: the parade of candles upon the aqueducts, the glimmering jewels beneath fireflies encased in stained glass lamps, the sea of faces staring at the carriage beyond.

Such thoughts--and the thickness of the armor--had drawn Dair out of the moment kept them from hearing the cry of their charge. Their heart nearly stopped at the sound, and the guard realized they had fallen behind the rest of the Sol knights. Jogging ahead a little, or as much as they could in the armor, they signed to the others to stop the carriage.

The ironwood step creaked with the weight of said armor, gauntlet'd fingers barely fit into the handle in order to pull it open.

The sight inside made the guard's eyes widen. Stepping forward with great haste, they carefully picked the fragile veiled Seer up and slowly unraveled them--an act that Dair hoped the other guards would not see and His Holiness would forgive. Dair was of a different opinion on the young oracle than the others in his service, seeing the boy as more of a...boy, a gifted but ultimately human young man who needed perhaps a little less smothering, quite a bit more sternness, and a friend. Though Dair suspected Azil was the older one of the two.

Still, respect and a desire to have one's head planted firmly on the shoulder had kept Dair's attempts to reach out both infrequent and subtle. With wrinkling of the eyes which revealed a gentle smile, or the occasional wink, or even--most rarely, a half-terrified hug (the terror, of course, being on Dair's end) when the drugs, vision, and stress of life finally broke the young man down.

So Dair carefully let Azil go, backtracking down the steps to give the Oracle his space. "My apologies, Your Holiness. I have no excuse for my slowness," spoke the Sol Guard, voice muffled and soft as ever.

The Seeress blanched as sponge and tan unexpectedly found itself patting her cheeks. Muscles tensed, pale eyes soared upwards: Dahlia. She relaxed and let the older woman touch up her disguise. She whispered--mouthed, more like--a very, very tiny thank you with an equally tiny smile.

But now that Dahlia's words demanded an answer, hesitance caught her response before it could pass her lips. After a few moments she tilted her feet forward, raising herself off the ground and towards Dahlia just a little so she could whisper and still be heard.

"Two days from now, have your hookah room hidden," she said oh-so-quietly, perhaps enough that Dahlia might question whether she heard correctly. There. Payment made, if Dahlia had the sense to accept her advice. She gave the hostess another small, grateful smile before looking ahead towards the procession in the distance. Standing on her tip-toes once more, she struggled to see above the crowd. Some sort of golden box? She frowned, glancing towards Dahlia, and turned her eyes towards the crowd.

The sight of gold armor brought a sense of instant relief to the Oracle. The knowledge that he still had somebody to aide him was the best assurance that he could ask for. Dair’s presence even seemed to hush the tormenting noise that allowed Azil to significantly begin to relax once more. Anything that could drive away that hellish symphony was more than welcome.

Dropping his tensed shoulders, he allowed the contact. He compliantly held still as the guard freed him from the garment’s restricting hold. He did not even seem to mind his face being exposed- something that he normally would have rewarded any other priest with a swift smack- to the open.

Two large frightened golden eyes gazed down upon the guard with a troubled look. There was a nagging desire to say something, but what was lost to the Seer. Pulling one of the base scarves back over his head- better to beat the priests to the punch on handling this- he huffed to himself.

“You… you are forgiven, but do not let it happen again.” Azil, as senseless as he might act at times, still could never bring himself to be angered by the kindness shown by the ambiguous comforter- or at least for very long. On those occasions when he did lash out, he felt the strangest heaviness strike his core. An emotion that the priests had informed him must be guilt. How strange.

“Tell me, where are the others?”, he much desired to speak to them. Anxiously Azil turned his head half expecting to see his elite squad already assembled and waiting his commands. “I feel that today we are meant to keep a vigilant eye so I want them all to be prepared.”

Today... Today something would happen. What exactly this event was remained a mystery, but he was not foolish enough to dismiss the feeling. If anything the unsure inkling drove him into a higher state of panic. The memories of being caught off guard were still quite sore. The Faithful leader refused to be surprised by anything unexpected.

Experience had taught the retired priestess to listen carefully when she saw the pale girl leaning forward. Sure enough the message given was nearly inaudible. Had she missed the body signals, she might have missed the advice altogether.

The warning was not very assuring, but it was well noted never the less. The room was instantly set as her new highest priority right after this. When an Innate Saw, only the very foolish did not listen. She nodded her understanding patting the girl’s shoulder- her way of saying thank you. Transaction complete.

When she caught sight of the object attracting the leader’s attention she frowned , pursing her lips slightly. With a hushed hiss she spoke out her disgust to her company, “Leave it to our dear overseers to parade around something that costs more than this entire block combined.”

Sure, it was a thing of great beauty that in the past she would have loved to even get a chance to touch one of those large wheels, but when she laid eyes on it now, all she could manage to think was, ‘how completely tactless.’ If the priests continued to flaunt around wealth in these parts it would only be a matter of time before they had a riot on their hands. Flame or no Flame driven.

"They must have someone wonderfully important riding inside..." she tapped her chin thoughtfully as she pondered the identity of the passenger.

They must have someone wonderfully important riding inside... Adele smiled faintly. Someone wonderfully important, perhaps, but certainly someone wonderfully stupid. Usually she would have simply guessed it was some moneyed housewife come to view the slightly seedier wares located this far out, but now as the carriage moved closer she spied the golden armor'd heads of a few Sol Guards standing at the carriage's side.

Huh. Perhaps the child of some upper official, then. If the opportunity arose to do so, capturing such a child would prove to be excellent bargaining material. And perhaps a gateway to information about the official itself.

Adele scanned the crowd for Lyseria: she'd know who was inside. The woman always seemed to know at least a little bit about everything, and though the Seeress sensed some dislike, she was loyal and useful enough. Adele motioned for Dahlia to follow--though she hoped Dahlia would recognize it as a suggestion and not an order, as she had always tried her best to respect Dahlia's status as outside help rather than an agent she commanded. She couldn't see Lyseria, but perhaps she could find her regardless...hand held out, fingers spread and palms forward, Adele wove through the crowd and focused on the memory of her saboteur. She was no dowser, and her Sight had never been nearly as strong as the Oracle's, but the simple act of finding a friend nearby was not a terribly difficult task.

And find a way to Lyseria she did, though it seemed more by accident than anything. The crowd had surged momentarily, leaving the Seeress to stumble backwards--and into her agent. Adele turned slowly, looking up at her with a quick nod before getting into place. She leaned against the wall with as much of a casual air as she could muster, picking up an empty cup nearby and pretending to drink from it. She had felt the familiar twinge of one of the Faithful, so it was best to be on her guard.

As she sipped, her lips moved and she spoke a little more loudly than she might usually. "Who is inside?" she asked, eyes on everything but the carriage.

Beneath their golden mask, Dair smiled gently at the Oracle's forgiveness. They nodded slightly, bowed their head, and bended their knees before straightening up to answer Azil's question.

It was...an uncomfortable one to answer. Dair was aware of the Oracle's agents, his command of the unofficial force he'd assembled to root out the worst of the heresy in the city. The guard turned their head to look behind them and to their sides, unsure whether Azil referred to them or to the other guards. Best be sure.

"To whom to you refer, Your Holiness?" said the guard in a metallic voice.

She had been lost in thought, her eyes on all the lanterns around her, when she felt someone fall against her. Instinctively, Lyseria went to steady the person, and only then did she take a moment to see who had nearly knocked her off balance. Adele. Of course it was Adele. Lyseria bit back the sigh that wanted to come to her lips, choosing instead a small smile and inquiry that Adele was alright.

Lyseria heard Adele's question, and casually looked over at the carriage before looking back at Adele. Adele's wig and makeup certainly made her a bit difficult to recognize, but the voice told her everything she needed to know. She stood, her hip thrust out to the side, a variation on the famous contraposto pose the Greek sculptures preferred. It was the most casual stance a person could have, and looking casual was the key to the evening.

"Call me crazy..." Lyseria started, nodding over at the carriage "But I'd almost venture to say its the oracle himself. The only reason I say that is the fact that those guards won't let anyone near it, and its more guards than a normal noble would have. Not to mention the way that one guard just rushed in there like his life depended on it. Guards don't do that for a normal noble, they'd be very casual if that was the case. And I have heard rumor that the oracle is very, very concerned about this night. Perhaps they came to see it themselves." Lyseria shrugged, looking at Adele. She knew for a fact it was the oracle, but if she was too assured, it might look suspicious. Thank goodness that guard had rushed in, that was great evidence to share about her 'hypothesis'.

"But if the oracle's here, you know they are too. So we need to be careful tonight to avoid unneccessary losses." Lyseria added, brushing back some very dark hair from her face.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The tapping of a foot could be heard in a small room. The room was fairly barren, only furnished with the necessities: an arm chair, a sofa, a coffee table, a counter and a chair behind the counter. The walls were an off white and the floor was dark red carpet; a color that the woman sitting behind the counter tapping her foot had chosen herself. The woman was exceptionally beautiful. Her dark skin was smooth without blemishes and had it not been for the soft wrinkles around her eyes and mouth (the consequences of her age), it was damn near perfect.

Wrinkles around her eyes that were not from aging but from frowning appeared. The woman, Nyaera, sighed in annoyance. In her hands was a book she had been working on recently. She was getting close to the climax but all that damned noise outside her shop was a huge distraction. How was she supposed to feel the heroine’s angst and worry with the sound of people cheering and screaming outside? It was obvious she would have to finish her book another day. With a sigh, she closed her book and put it in a drawer under the counter. She was supposed to be somewhere about now anyways. What had the Oracle said? She searched every corner of her mind but found nothing. Well the least she could do was make an appearance. With that decided, she got out of her chair, grabbed her bag with its assortment of contents and left her humble little shop.

Outside was crowded, so much so that you had to literally squeeze in between people to get anywhere. She could see the glistening carriage of the Oracle from a great distance, its gleaming gold shining even in the dim lighting. She supposed heading in the direction and stationing herself nearby was a decent way to start.

Despite the many people, men still took the time to glance and stare at her, some kind of sense that only men had led them to find women like Nyaera. Women with curves in the right places and with hips that swayed seductively when they walked, inviting men to a night filled with delightful pleasures. Even at 30 years old, Nyaera was still one of the most popular working women in the city. She may have gained some wrinkles but she also now had plenty of experience compared to five years ago.

Most of the men stared in obvious lust, wanting what they knew they could never afford. A few men were brave enough to reach out a hand to try to touch her, but somehow in the crowd she managed to deftly avoid their dirty hands. She made it a point to not be touched by those who were unworthy, also known as the poor.

A few minutes later, she finally made it to a spot where she could see the carriage holding the Oracle more clearly. She stood there, arms crossed as she watched one of the Sol Guard rush to the carriage door. Dair was it? She couldn’t be sure. All the Sol Guards looked the same to her but Dair was the closest to the Oracle and usually the first one to rush to his aid. The Oracle might have had a vision. She had been witness to one long ago and it had been surprisingly violent.

She started tapping her foot in impatience. What in the world was going on? Tap. Tap. Tap.

A nod sufficed for Dahlia’s greeting to Lyseria. With such a complex being one had to watch what was said. Of course, Dahlia’s main goal never really was insightful conversation. She simply stayed to be a good sport. If things made a sudden turn for the worse, she had no problem instantly throwing her hands up in the air and completely disassociating herself from the terrorists.

It was difficult for her to avoid judging the girl’s appearance with a critical eye- A bad habit developed from work or perhaps she had always entertained a shallow eye. Luckily, it provided her an excuse to not communicate any further than necessary.

The young woman was not ugly or frumpy, like so many slum citizens that she had seen, but there were some improvements that could be made. For example, those nails could use a nice polishing. Maybe later…

“The oracle and his special guard, you say? It’s been a while since we-“ meaning the people of this district, “-have been graced by a visit from his holiness.” Dahlia spoke attempting to recall the last time she had been near the figurehead. It must have been during one of the masses sometime before her expulsion from the temple. It such was a blessing to be rid of those itchy robes and tedious ceremonies. She would have been just one of the many priestesses bowing down to the sun god praying for forgiveness and wisdom while the dear Oracle observed the show from some secluded, purified location. To see him in a place like this was suspicious. A dignitary such as he did not just pop over for a simple hello whenever he felt like it.

Lowering herself to Adele’s side, she whispered into the Seeress’ ear, “Do you suppose we shall have ourselves a show tonight?”

The Seeress' lips dived into a frown as Lyseria spoke, the logic of her words ringing true. She looked up to the oracle of Seboet, even regretted that their paths had crossed so foully. But she could not deny that Azil Dreamreaper was something she did not wish her people to be near, especially her--he was one of the few that might recognize her even in disguise.

Dahlia's question elicited a quick headshake from the girl-rebel, the edges of her lips twitching as she glanced around the crowd in search of an escape route. The temptation to cause trouble, but worry gnawed at her insides...he was by far the greater seer, even if she paused to look inward and inquire the mists as to whether the oracle had more soldiers in tow...even the best seers could not always trust their intuition.

She bit her lip: dangerous, but perhaps this was the best chance they would have in years for getting at the man. Adele closed her eyes and curled up within herself, seeking some hint, some sign, anything. Alistair would have known what to do. Adele opened her eyes with a frown. She couldn't confirm whether or not there were more soldiers.

"Maybe we will," she whispered at last to Dahlia, eyes on the approaching carriage. If only her pyrotechnical expert were here. She'd have--Adele smiled slowly, turning her face upwards towards Dahlia. Sometimes she forgot how lucky she was to occasionally have the ear of perhaps the only person in the city who could wield anything but the Sight and the flame. "Can you wet the candles?" she whispered, nodding towards the lit aqueducts above and the waterway below. Adele had to be honest with herself, she understood nothing of the foreign magics or the oddities that Dahlia could conjure. They were exotic things, outside her realm of understanding.

But she could understand quite easily that something simple, like raising the humidity of the air around the candles so they could not light again, was more than Adele could manage. Should she make the candles go out--an equally simple affair--a priest would simply come along and re-light them. And better that she did not extend herself, lest the man in the carriage sense her presence.

But of course Dahlia would want something in return, she imagined.

Saffron eyes stared down upon the guard, “I am referring to the only people that matter, Dair.” The statement was flat laced with a small touch of disbelieve for the actual need for an answer. It had been Azil’s goal to slowly introduce the Sol solder into his precious force that he had so carefully selected, but maybe it was still to early for that.

A pulse of annoyance rushed by catching the attention of the Seer. This signature emotion was far too familiar causing a small smile to spread across his face. Nyaera. She was nearby. He could sense it. He knew that the guard had seen the prior companion of the priest-king many times in passing, but he was not sure if Dair had ever made the immediate connection between her and the crew.

A test was in order.

“Look around, Dair." he waved his hand out towards the mass of onlookers, "My agents are scattered all across this blessed land. Even right now, they are amongst us. Can you pick out those select individuals who have devoted themselves to assisting me purge this city of its sin?”

Dahlia could not determine if Adele’s smile was more encouraging or frightening. Either way it meant that the Seeress had some sort of wicked plot brewing in her mind.

Eying the aqueducts above she listened to the flowing water rushing on by before giving a firm nod. It was more than possible for her to do so- in many different fashions. Easiest would simply be calling forth a stream of water to douse the surrounding lights, but that would by far be the most noticeable method as well. Not wishing to get immediately hauled off to prison, she quickly ruled out that option.

After a minute she finally settled on her safest, most effective option.

“It will take a minute for me to prepare. In the mean time, get ready to cover your face. The rain will make your covering run.”

Adele had to stop a moment and marvel at the ingenuity of Dahlia's solution. Not only would the Flame--and in turn, Dahlia or herself--be unlikely to be suspected, the act could be far more than just embarrassing. Rain was as rare as fire, especially in the summer. For it to fall and drench the lights of Loegir on one of his holier days? It was genius.

And a little part of her wondered if it would be Loegir really was there, and would stop the rain. She would wait and see.

The seeress gave Dahlia a long, grateful look, nodded, and tugged her hood over her head, ducking her head down and behind Lyseria as she waited for the rain to begin to fall against her back.

Azil's order made Dair feel uncomfortable, as so many of Azil's orders seemed to do. Beneath the mask, the protector knight frowned deeply. Pieces of armor shifted and slid against each other as the guard squirmed ever so slightly under their armor. But they nodded, and turned to the crowd, brown eyes flickering as they scanned every face.

The Sol Guard was not stupid, but their intelligence was not why they had been placed on this force. No: it had been their unrelenting, steadfast loyalty and tendency to never ask questions. Or at least not to voice them.

So Dair found themselves unsure as to what exactly Azil expected of them. Was Azil unsure who of their agents had attended? If the oracle was in need of assistance, Dair would do their best. Lucky for them, each of the two in attendance was a little more conspicuous than they needed to be.

Dair's eyes fell on a very dark-skinned woman whose visage was turning many a face and making a small commotion. The guard recognized her, her eyes were on the carriage. Dair paused, unsure--the guard had seen her many times with the oracle, but aside from taking care of any...special needs Azil might have--Dair had not cared to dwell long on the subject--it was unlikely she was there for any reason but to assist Azil with his private questing.

Dair Abar continued their search, their eyes finally resting on a northern man they recognized, eyes also on the center. A sniper, they'd heard, or some sort of mercenary. Far more likely to be one of the oracle's agents.

The Sol knight turned slowly and hesitated before speaking. "I see...a southern woman, and a northern man. I do not know their names," the guard said uncertainly.

Azil clapped with childish delight at the guard’s answer. Oh, this was pleasing. Given the lack of outside interaction provided to the Oracle, it was pretty much up to himself to figure out ways of entertaining himself. This seclusion led to a few of his games to be a little less than conventional- some recent ones turned out to be downright disturbing at times. Thank Loegir, this one seemed to be relatively mild in nature.

The unstable Innate wished he had more Followers around so they could continue this amusing show. There were so many ways to make the hunt more complex. Given the time he was sure he could weave a terrible challenge for the ambiguous watchdog. When he got the time, he would have to remember to do so.

“You have keen eyes.” Azil praised with a gleeful smile across his face- the panic attack that had happened only minutes before seemed to be a distant memory in the Seer’s mind.

"The woman is referred to as Nyaera. She..." Azil paused wondering what the best way to describe such an exotic, strong willed follower would be, "She is a lovely, crafty woman who has been very faithful, but her tongue is as sharp as her mind. You would not want to cross her." The discovery of Nyaera was probably one of the best things that had ever happened to the Faithful, but it did not make the Oracle forget what a harpy she could be when crossed.

"The man is Jacob. A relatively new addition, but still quite useful in his own way. He has much to learn, but he will soon learn the true meaning of servitude to god.", he continued. The Seer had much that he wished to teach the sniper, but it required subtlety and tact. In time Jacob would come to realize the truth. If not, Azil knew of a wonderful inspirational teacher who went by the name of Roarke who would not mind the chance to educate their new friend.

"Loegir smiles on both of them, just like he smiles upon you, but you must not let the trouble brooding in your heart anchor you down. If you are to join those watching over us, you must gain control of this hesitation. You need confidence, dear Dair! ”

Hopefully the critique would encourage the guard to progress.

Concentrating on the aqueduct, Dahlia tried to settle herself into the proper mindset to achieve the intended goal. For her water was more than just some simple liquid. It represented life. It had life. The fickle nature of the solution could not be defined by one simple form or set emotion. Understanding the complexities and possibilities of this was the key to gaining the opportunity to utilize this power- for one could never claim to be the master of such a force.

Exhaling deeply, she willed the clear rushing liquid to ease. If the pressures did not lessen, there would be no way of ever gaining a handle on it. Once there was stillness in the pooling waters, she inhaled letting the oxygen fill not only her lungs, but the liquid as well. The stream welcomed the gift offered. Exploit this, she parted the puddle- bending it, pounding it, breaking it, until it was crushed into a matter so tiny it was practically invisible.

Once she had enough of this manipulated into her desired state, she gathered it up into the air high above them. It might be difficult to catch the sudden dark looming presence expanding quickly, but to the ex-priestess, the cloud was as much a part of her as her own two hands. The sinister monstrosity continued to be fed and grew until it complete shrouded over the surrounding area. (A small scale shower, while admittedly being much simpler to conjure, would raise suspicions.) She felt the particles growing heavier. Holding it up became increasingly more difficult, but this just proved that what she was doing was working. Her energy was being drained away quickly, however it would be worth the slight struggle.

Furrowing two well groomed brows she deemed the magic ready after a good five to ten minutes of work. Setting loose the water, she removed the heavy burden weighing her down. She allowed nature’s natural balance to take control and handle the sudden intrusive mass of floating water that darkened an already inky sky. Gravity pushed the individual bits into solid beads before rejecting them and sending them crashing upon the ground.

About three feet away from the trio of troublemaking women the dirt was stained with the first droplet. The sight caused the hostess to triumphantly smirk.

It began to drizzle.

She liked this idea very much. Watching the Faith be so humiliated was a grand plan. Of course, the Oracle believed that Lyseria was on his side, so if he caught sight of her displaying her glee that could perhaps get complicated. Fortunately, Nyaera was here and she drew so many looks from everyone due to her beauty that Lyseria could easily go under the notice of the Oracle. And thank Loegir (or whoever it was that had created them, the jury was still out on that) that the oracle was somehow not having any visions at all about the betrayer in their ranks. Although, Lyseria wasn't even sure who she was betraying at this point. She'd pick the side she was 'working for all along' at the end when everything was settled and someone came out on top. Seemed like a good enough plan.

And then she felt the rain falling on her curly brown hair. Looking up at the sky, Lyseria grinned gently to herself, anticipating the audience's reaction on this holiest of holy days. "And here we go..." She whispered gently with a chuckle, her eyes turning to Adele who was hiding behind her. At the moment, Adele wasn't being too terribly aggravating, and besides, this was bound to be so amusing Lyseria didn't care that her enemy was huddling nearly against her back.

There is nothing quite so effective as rain on a flame, and to no one's surprise but those who had not been expecting rain--technically, just about everyone--the rain pattered down on the festival, droplets cool and cleansing. And embarrassing, to say the least. Gasps and cries of confusion were uttered from the crowd, and even the troubadour's song came to a screeching halt as he looked down on a water droplet upon his guitar with a reasonably surprised expression.

The Sol Guard whom she thought to be Dair glanced in her direction. He only gave a hint of recognition as his gaze lingered before sweeping off to find someone else. It didn't take long as his eyes found someone else. Following the direction of his look, she spotted. . .uh. . .Jacob? Yes that sounded about right. The Oracle had brought in some new followers and Nyaera was having a tough time keeping up with the new names. At least this Jacob person was decent looking. He was a bit too rugged for her but still easy on the eyes. She had heard rumors of a famed sniper arriving in Seboet and was surprised when she found out this man was he and was even more surprised when she learned the Oracle had brought him into their group. Of course the Oracle would only have the best of the best in his close following and apparently, Jacob was the best.

She turned her attention back to Dair who was speaking with the Oracle. Dair was not officially part of their group, but with how close he was to the Oracle, Nyaera knew he would be integrated soon. His absolute willingness to do whatever the Oracle wished reminded her of another fanatic. . . She hoped Dair would not be as. . .extreme.

Suddenly, she felt a wetness upon her cheek. Blinking in confusion she looked up towards the sky as small droplets of water began falling. What in the. . . How could it be raining on this day of all days?! Today was supposed to be a holy day and for it to rain like this, well, it was just unheard of. This had to be a trick or something! She refused to believe this rain was from natural causes. She glanced around quickly, looking for someone--anyone who didn't look surprised or confused. The falling droplets had become a light drizzle and through the haze she thought she saw a very suspicious-looking woman.

Jacob was continuing to listen to the wondrous music that echoed from the strings of the talented musician. He wanted to say his full attention was brought to the music but that would be a lie. Instinct had directed his sight to the golden carriage that rolled in with a compliment of Sol guards. His smile went from one of content to one of satisfaction. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Seer himself came to look at this musician. Although he found it hard to believe anybody could see through those heavy veils. Then again, his way of seeing was far different than that of the man from the north. A better question was how the priesthood had allowed their golden (almost literally) boy out of the temple.

To the eyes of most people commoners in the hub, The carriage might have been carrying some noble. That wasn't the case for one with eyes like Jacobs. The amount of gold, the number of Sol Guards, the wear and tear on certain areas of Dair's armor that one could notice if they just bothered to look close enough. It all pointed to the Seer's presence among the common folk. Tempting was the idea to go and mess around with the Seer and piss off the Sol Guards at the same time. He refrained from it though. As much as he wanted to, he had heard rumors that the Inquisitor was back in the field and he didn't want another run in with the Zealot if he could help it.

He noticed two things as he watched what was going on at the Seer's carriage. One was Dair looking at the area uncertainly and then spotting someone. He followed his gaze to see a dark-skinned woman walking towards them. It was hard to make her out of the crowd until he noticed the unnaturally curvy... curves. Sorting through his memory, He recognized her as Nyaera, Supposedly and ally of the Seer though she seemed far more concerned with her own agenda. He had to admit though, she was a looker if he had seen one. The only issue was that he wasn't into older woman. As a rule of thumb, he only went for woman around two years of his age, Though there have been exceptions.

The second thing that he noticed was Dair looking straight at him after looking at Nyaera. This was an uncomfortable feeling really. The neutral, vacant look that was plastered on the faces of every Sol guard helm was more than a little unnerving. It had to be the eyes that looked practically solid black from a distance. It made them look inhuman.

tap tap tap

"Huh...?" Jacob said as he began to hear and feel soft tapping all around him. It took him a moment to register that it was raining. At least that's what it seemed like to anyone that saw it. The question was why the hell it was raining on the supposed holy day of a cult that worshiped fire. "Oh... Somebody's gonna be pissed." He said, giving a soft chuckle at the imagery of priests panicking and screaming end of the world crap. Sadly, the surprise had reached even the Bard as he stopped playing. Jacob got the feeling that his entertainment had just been ruined.

Adele remained ducked behind Lyseria and Dahlia, her disguise protected from the rain. But something turned in her stomach, made her feel uneasy--she couldn't help but glance up and scan the crowd for the source of her unease. Was it simply nerves, or was there a reason to be worried?

Her eyes went wide when they fell on an all too familiar face looking in their direction: Nyaera. The seeress briefly felt bile rising at the base of her throat before quelling, the turning in her stomach now become churning. Had the concubine seen her? Dahlia? If she knew of Dahlia's special ability...Adele was fairly certain the woman still worked with Dreamreaper.

"We need to go," she whispered to the two women at her side.

It was the oddest thing Dair had ever felt. It began with a gentle ping on their helmet, a soft vibration of the metal which was barely perceptible but made Dair stop mid-response nonetheless. The Sol guard was beginning to turn their masked face up to the dark sky when the flow of droplets was released, a hundred a moment pattering on their armor. Dair stared up into the rain, blinking slowly when it fell through the eyes of their mask and the kohl began to run.

Rain, at the peak of summer. Rain, on Loegir's holiest night.

"Sir...?" asked the guard quietly when they finally lowered their mask to look at the oracle, their eyes seeking answers from the boy. Whatever this sign might mean, Azil Dreamreaper would have the answers.

"That is probably wise...." Lyseria said softly, eyes still pasted to the sky as if she was in complete shock of the rain. Fortunately, the young woman had always had quite excellent acting skills, and so feigning surprise at this turn of events was not terribly difficult. "Nyaera is a difficult one to fool. She is too smart to be allowed to be so pretty. It's hardly fair. You should go first." Lyseria said softly, barely moving her lips to avoid any lip reading. She'd have to report to the Oracle later, and needed to be alone and away from the rest to do that. "We shouldn't all leave together. Too suspicious. They don't know my face, you should go find safety and I'll stay here looking completely confused."

Lyseria flashed her gaze to the woman behind her, the only moment of recognition she felt comfortable giving the woman at this point in time. "Go." She whispered, hoping the girl listened and snuck away into the crowd. At lease Adele was small, she could skulk away unnoticed.

Adele's head still hanging down, she peered through wig and rain up at Lyseria. Nodded. She'd been intending for Dahlia to be the first to leave--after all, if they'd guess the involvement of anyone, it would be the older priestess--but now was not the time to argue. She nodded and jerked her head at Dahlia, hoping she'd catch the intended message that Dahlia should leave as well.

The seeress was weaving through the flow of unnerved onlookers when she felt a little tug at the back of her mind: the presence of something new and worth investigation. Risky, but the sense that guided her always whispered to her that it might just slip away soon if she did not take action to see what it was.

And so she found herself watching an odd-looking northerner sitting on a pot, wondering what in the name of her god he was supposed to do with anything.