Extending an Olive Branch

The Ambassador of Dies Irae didn't catch much of a blue sky or a nice day, or rather, much of the day at all. Frustrated, the man was sat at his desk in the office he shared with his fellow Ambassador, Sivvy, staring down at various sheets, letters, forms, and all other manners of official paperwork. Johann briefly wondered what the pink-haired girl might be up to, though if she wasn't in the office, it was clear that something else had caught her attention. Whether that was a job, official business, or simply the Mess Hall's Lunch menu even the silver-haired man couldn't say for certain, but it was what it was. Sivvy was moe than simply just helpful in running the guild's day to day operations, and Johann was quite certain that, without her, he would've gone mad a long time ago. Still, his injuries, particularly the ever-present, constant pain and limitations that they brought about, were quite distracting and made it hard to focus on the work before him. Johann wasn't Johann without insisting on continuing to work, of course, he would feel bad leaving Sivvy to deal with all the paperwork on her own, and so he had made his way to his office regardless, but he began to doubt if he could even be effective in this role.

His joints and head ached, the wound in his chest pulsing with agony every time he took a breath. This had been the norm for a few weeks now, and, much to the Ambassador's detriment, it did not seem like the injury had even begun healing. The poison that had infected him was particularly strong, so strong even that it overcame Mars and his curse, something the silver-haired Rune Mage had thought impossible. Well, he had been proven wrong before, and had, obviously, been once again. It was evident there were things in this world that he neither expected nor understood, and for that, along with his naivete, he had was now paying the price.

Separately from that, at the other end of the building, as Aven would enter the guildhall of Dies Irae, a passing Neophyte would take note of the new arrival, a cheerful smile spreading across the face of the man wearing the white and red uniform of the guild. He would appear to be in his late teens, perhaps early twenties, short-blonde hair adorning a head that was defined by soft, yet uncharacteristically experienced features, a scar across his cheek telling its own tale upon first glance. In contrast to that, the young man's eyes appeared attentive, curious, and observing, but not in an unfriendly or overbearing way. "Hey", he would greet simply and with cheerful tone as he walked over to Aven, raising a hand in greeting before he continued, "Are you new here? You don't really look like one of the Soldiers". The Neophyte would quickly realize the implications of his statement, scrambling to correct himself. "I mean, based on your clothing, you know. Did you come to join the guild? Or are you a client? Maybe there's something I can help you with?", the Neophyte would also inquire, seemingly out of a genuine desire to be helpful, waiting for a response from the newcomer.

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Word Count: 543
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Thread Word Count Total: 857

The young man seemed briefly flustered when the other swiftly confirmed that he was, in fact, a client of the guild, though a friendly smile would find its way onto the young man's face as he replied "I see! I'm sorry, Sir, I don't really know of a letter, but I will be sure to inform Ambassador von Weiss immediately. Just, uh, just a few minutes", turning around with a sheepish and hasty bow before taking off into one of the mirrored hallways at either side of the Throne Hall, under his breath, repeating the name that the man had given him, along with his allegiance, in an effort to keep himself from forgetting or misremembering what seemed like a critical detail "Aven Alveron from Fairy Tail, Aven Alveron from Fairy Tail, ...". Hurried steps would take the Neophyte to the Ambassador's office, and, only a couple of minutes later, a knock would sound on the inside of the room, the silver-haired Guild Master looking up from the paperwork on the desk before him. "Come in", a weak command would be spoken aloud in response, though obvious effort would be exerted by the man to give his voice the usual disciplined tone. The Neophyte was swift to enter, and, as expected, would salute the Ambassador, Johann repeating the motion, though moving his arm caused him another small bout of considerable pain, which was mostly ignored. "At ease". The man complied. "Ambassador, I have a message for you".

The silver-haired man raised an eyebrow, shifting forward on his seat. "Oh?". The Soldier of Dies Irae would react swiftly, making sure to recall the name of the other who had come to the island without fail. "A certain Aven Alveron of Fairy Tail is requesting your presence in the Throne Hall. He said he's a client, and that he sent a letter to you". "Ah", Johann responded a bit more instinctively than he would otherwise allow himself to be. It was true that he had indeed received the man's letter that announced a visit, though the Ambassador had, in truth, no idea what the member of Fairy Tail could possibly want from him. It was true that the God of Ishgar and the member of Fairy Tail had met before, on several occasions, in fact, though their most defining interaction was the mission they had completed a few years ago, and while some time had passed, Joh did recall the polite, young mage of Fairy Tail, who had, with great enthusiasm, expressed an interest in all things magical. Briefly, Johann found himself transported back to simpler times, when he was nothing more than a regular guild mage working for the West Fiore Trading Company on Tolgalen. So much had happened since then. So much had changed.

The man was ripped from his thoughts when the Soldier audibly cleared his throat, looking at the somewhat distracted Ambassador with a questioning gaze. "Oh, of course. I will receive this visitor myself. Thank you, Soldier. You're dismissed". The blonde man would, in a swift, practiced motion, salute once more before leaving the office, the door falling shut behind him, leaving the Ambassador to himself. Johann sighed. Admittedly, he wasn't necessarily in a state to receive visitors or clients alike, though curiosity would get the better of him. He rose from his chair, standing and walking now being easier tasks than they had been a while ago, when the wound and the venom in his system were still fresh. Perhaps, while complete recovery would be slow, he had begun to and would heal fully in time. That wasn't the first thing on his mind, though, the silver-haired man wondering what Aven Alveron as a client specifically would need from him, or rather, the guild. There was only one way to find out.

A few minutes later, Johann would enter the Throne Hall himself. The black coat of his uniform as Ambassador hung loosely from his shoulders, revealing the bandages that covered his torso, though, still complimenting the hat that hid some of the messy silver strands of hair beneath it. Sure enough, the man's tired eyes would find Aven Alveron, the young Fairy Tail mage he had known from before, waiting by the entrance to the guild hall, approaching him with slow and strained steps, though a weak smile would find its way onto his face regardless. "Mr. Alveron", the man greeted, initially forgetting that, in the time since they had last spoken, Johann's appearance had changed rather dramatically, remembering at the last second before he spoke, a somewhat sheepish smile finding its way onto the man's expression. "It's been some time, and it seems that a lot has changed. Nonetheless, it seems you have called for me. Ambassador Johann von Weiss, at your service". The God of Ishgar would lean forward slightly, as much as his wound would feasibly allow him to, in a gesture of greeting that he supposed was more symbolic than anything, before returning to a more comfortable posture. Now, though, it would be time to sate his curiosity, the reason Joh was here to begin with, his red eyes seeking those of the young man in an attempt to discern intent, despite the fact that the Ambassador knew he was a poor judge of character. Still, he would let that get in the way of his inquiry.

"So, what brings you to Dies Irae?".

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Word Count: 903
Personal Word Count Total: 1,446
Thread Word Count Total: 1,976