adrikodol:
Catelia is exactly as beautiful as Adrik remembers it being. This had been one of their early stops, when they first began their pilgrimage in the name of their God. Oh, they had wanted so badly to please Vermir, to do their job and do it well. There was a red string of fate that pulled them toward their goal, even know. The knowledge was constant in their mind, that at any moment they could find their truest calling –– the one man or woman that was their purpose, that would buy them Her eternal approval and a position anywhere in the heirarchy that they could wish. Adrik was a killer, and they would make their name with blood.
They weren’t looking for blood now, though. They were just enjoying the city with Tatsuo –– though they’d lost track of him several minutes ago. That was fine. They didn’t need to be together all the time, as much as they joked about being joined at the hip. It was nice to breathe on their own, to look up at the beautiful buildings and watch the people passing by. Adrik knew that it could be such a dangerous place, but at the moment, all they felt was peace. A sweet and slow lull to the day, with nothing yet to do and no burdens. In the coming days they would be busy, as they always were, but for now they could play tourist for a little while.
They walk the squares with a slow intent, mildly glancing around with curiosity. Wondering where Tatsuo had run off to, wondering where the rest of the Gambit was spending their time before they real work began. Calliope would already be looking for something pretty to wear to the party, they were sure of that. They had already been talked in to allowing him to shop or steal their clothes for them, so they would blend into the crowd. He didn’t quite trust them not to go dressed in their every day clothes, made for sneaking and killing.
As much as they’re not hunting, not on the look-out for anything strange, they feel drawn to one spot. Something strange in the air, blood that doesn’t smell quite the same as anything else. Different. Interesting. They lock eyes with a figure, and the figure looks back at them with interest. With a wave. Adrik tilts their head in curiosity, and moves toward the person sitting at the table.
“I suppose I’m always looking for something,” They agree –– because there’s a truth in it. Always looking for destiny, for ways to please Vermir, for blood to spill and mothers to grant benedictions to. They wonder if they shouldn’t be cautious, of a stranger such as this. But they move closer and take the offered seat, nod their head at the promise of a drink. They’re quick and sharp, they can escape this if it turns strange or dangerous. “Adrik Odol, at your service.”
“Yes, just passing through. In the company of friends. Though I travelled before we joined together, and I will continue after we part.” They tilt their head, honest as they always are about. their intentions. “I will follow where my God guides me.” Their eyes narrow, slightly, in thought. “You’re strange. Not from here. Are you looking for something as well?”
Of course Catelia is such a city - where strangers might cross paths and sit with one another in the sun, encounters that might culminate in love or blood. It feels oddly safe, like Hephireus might pass through unnoticed, for all that she struggles to blend in with mortals elsewhere. Yet when this particular stranger locks eyes with her, they mark each other out as different from the rest. Adrik Odol - their name carries the iron tang of blood.
“Hephireus,” she says, smile unwavering despite the mingled curiosity and suspicion on the other’s face. Sharp eyes would notice how their lips pull taut, their smile carefully tugged into place. “Surely not my service, young acolyte, but I’m flattered. What would you like to have?” They flag the waiter down once more, and ask for another of the same for their own cup.
“I am,” Heph affirms all three statements - indeed, strange, not from here, and looking for something. “I believe my liege is close by. Trapped in something - a book, you would call it, though it is much more than that. Passed through the filthy hands of smugglers, into the even filthier hands of Catelian nobles.” The remark draws some disapproving stares from nearby tables, but Heph has no reason to lie to mortals. They sense that Adrik is of the material plane - neither friend nor foe, another lovely face they will lose to dreaming. People are much more useful to her asleep. “And whence does your God guide you today?”
She mimicks Adrik, head tilted and blinking in the sun, almost cat-like. It is pleasant to have conversation that isn’t Eskarel. Travelling with company sounds like its own kind of nightmare, having to navigate contesting goals and compete for favour, although they miss - well, they miss the old days. “You don’t grow weary of the presence of others?” she asks. “Or does something else bind you together?”
