Future of Calamity [Under Rewrite]

Chapter 30 - Just Business

As the gleaming ball aflame rose above the soon-to-be bustling Capital, tweeting birds soared through the skies above, peering down upon the trickling populace sweeping into the courtyard. And, deep within the cozy, yet now calamitous Inn did the group begin to stir; a list of fiendish contracts awaiting their start to the day. However, while they began to step forth from their fairly comfortable rooms, one still sat shut at the end of the lowly lit hallway. And, as the dormancy of the one who resided within continued, a certain malakhim in white was fed up of this uncharacteristic lazing.

Knock, knock

Sarid's fingers rapped the doorframe, firm and echoing against the smooth oak finish. He waited. Silence. And yet, his acute senses could catch a soft and strange sound swiping back and forth, and settling a lone finger at the side already told him she had awakened inside.

Knock, knock!

"Velvet!? Can you hurry up? We're heading out soon!" he stated loudly, raising his voice to slip past the thick doorway and to interrupt whatever was going on within.

Finally, he got a response, "I'm busy. Leave me be, or I'll eat you," she growled from inside. It didn't take any intricate thinking to figure out the daemon was serious, so the half-breed didn't push it, and pushed off from the shut entrance.

"Urgh... why do I try with you..." With that final remark, the woman within clearly caught the creaking of his steps plod down the Inn steps. She grumbled, shaking her head at the man's newly attained confidence to test her like this. With another dip and brush, the mop she was using spread across the boarded floor, slicking along with repetitive motion. At this rate, that half-malak would end up as another nightly meal if she became too famished.

Velvet's grip tightened a bit too forcefully for the equipment to take, and with a snap! The mop handle cracked in two, at which she let another disgruntled sigh fill the room. "Good enough..." she grunted, carelessly flicking the useless piece into the corner; clattering it amongst other ominous metal at the side of her resting place. Armour pieces.

Boots clacking across the groaning, waterlogged floorboards, she plunged the head of the used mop into a borrowed bucket of once cleanly water. And, as she swung the room door open and sauntered out into the Inn to meet with the rest of the crew, Velvet paid no mind to the pooling smog of crimson that had corrupted the purity of the water bucket, as she clicked the way closed; irritable dry, ivory stains having crept between healed nails and relaxed fingers.

With resounding greetings to begin their morning, the group soon began their trek - foot on cobble to dirt - across the great Loegres centre and travelled back across Danann Highway. With talks of the guild they're assisting filling the empty gaps of boredom and simple daemon clearing, they concluded that the Bloodwing Butterflies were no pushovers. Fake documents that actually were proven real - seen of which as the daemoness leader merely stomped past the inspection with a dispassionate show of her papers - and losing their leader only to remain strong and steadfast. Perfect allies for the uninitiated and unreasonable.

Therefore, it was vital these jobs are completed to a high order. Contracted means methods are important, so to keep costs down, their pirate malak sent out a sylphjay - messenger bird - to the Van Eltia and had her draw the dock guards away. Simple target, free to be destroyed and hopefully without much trouble. And of course, who would refuse more mabo curry for their success?

Plucking his faithful calcite blades from the withering corpse of another daemonic gibbon, the Samurai hopped from its lifeless chest and stepped back in tow with the group that had once again successfully cleared out the surrounding area; leaving only the familiar gateway to Port Zekson, and the vulnerable warehouse to be set ablaze. Sun trailing their backs with its simmering support, Velvet booted a faltering Axe Beak to the side, the Dodo-like daemon bird's choked gasps of dissipating life, spluttering to nothing in the thorned bushes as she thrust the gates open.