A meeting with the Rune Knights...?

The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, that day, as Aven soared through the clouds towards the plateau above Era. He had questions that needed answering, and there was no better place that the Headquarters of the Rune Knights. It was his first time visiting Era, in truth, but there was no mistaking the massive structure above him, ethereal wings carrying him up and over into the reception area. Aven's pearly short sleeve button-down flapping wildly in the wind above his tight light grey pants, as he touched down with a light clack of his matching white shoes onto the pavement. He'd opted for a less formal look for this meeting, considering the fact that he wasn't anyone important in the eyes of the Rune Knights.

As Aven landed, and the golden light faded from behind him, it struck him just how many wizards were gathered in the area: a side effect of a deepening of his connection to both his magic and Dark Matter, he could feel the pulse of countless prisoners confined within the main prison. It was only natural, he supposed, that the strongest criminals would be held in their most secure facility, under the constant watch of the main branch. With a small puff of breath, he dampened his attention to his sensory abilities, as they'd only serve to distract him from the task at hand.  Approaching the receptionist's desk, he rang for assistance, one hand tucked idly into his pocket as he leaned against the counter. Hopefully, he'd find purchase with an experienced member who could put his growing concerns to rest.

A vixen... Aven's first thoughts were surprisingly curt, depending on who was asked, as the receptionist came into view. She walked with a tempting sway of her hips, a gait Aven would've described as a 'sexy walk'. Months of meditation in the foothills of Tolgalen had begun to heal his broken heart, but it was far from mended: at a glance, he felt a dangerous aura from the young woman, and his instincts fired off warning signals. The fairer sex had always found the chinks in his defenses, even as strong as he'd become, but this one was different. Vixen was too soft a title: this girl was a man-eater.

It was a struggle, but Aven maintained his composure, running himself through a mental mantra he'd used to calm his mind during his training. The Rune Knight's attire wasn't helping, either, unbuttoned down to tease any onlookers with just barely enough to attract, while still leaving everything to the imagination. He decided to opt for direct eye contact, steeling himself to avoid straying down for a peek. "Just Aven, if you don't mind. I'm here to satisfy a curiosity of mine," He paused involuntarily, as the words stuck in his throat, realizing how easily his words could be misconstrued. He continued, hastily correcting himself, breaking eye contact for a brief moment of embarrassment. "O-on the Rune Knight's criminal policy, of course." He attempted to recover, locking eyes once more. "Um- and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with, today?" Aven was kicking himself, internally; it had to be a woman at the counter, not some battle hardened warrior knight, or some polished administrator. His first time back in civilization in three months, and he ran straight into the eye of the hurricane.

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[WC: 295.]
[Thread WC: 856.]

Somewhere more private. He felt like a mouse eyeing a delicious hunk of cheese outside its hole. He knew all too well it was a trap, just as he knew there was a cat waiting to pounce just outside his view. Still, he needed information, and as alluring as Lilith could likely be, he highly doubted he was in any danger... right?

Interestingly enough, the word "Private" was doubly significant here. Lilith was effectively a new recruit, by military standards, though he was unsure how that translated to the Rune Knights as an organization. It was possible that normal members were classified as Privates, while the senior members were granted higher military titles. Sure as he was that it would be rude to request a higher ranking member, he decided to settle for what answers he could glean from Lilith.

The problem became, how would he approach the topic? Interrogation room was inaccurate, in this case, since Lilith wasn't under any obligation to answer any of his questions. If he was going to get any information at all, being the prey wasn't an option; he'd have to be the hunter.

He had a strategy, then. Even if he was outmatched, he wasn't the naive boy he was before, and he'd put up the best fight he was capable of. Reaching forward, he took a bold first move, grasping her hand and leaning down to give it a light kiss, a high society flattery technique he'd watched his Father use quite a few times. Perhaps a bit less smooth than his practiced old man, but not altogether clumsy. He released her hand as he spoke. "Lilith, then. That would be splendid; please, lead the way."

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[Word Count: 285.]
[Word Count Total: 1450.]

The inside of the Rune Knight's headquarters was about as bland as he'd expected. The feeling he got, at least from what he'd heard and seen so far, was that of a no-nonsense organization; however, Lilith obviously had no such inclination. It piqued his interest as to why someone of her persuasion would seek employment with Law Enforcement of all things, a subject he considered bringing up at some point during their 'interrogation'. After all, endearment was the quickest way to reliable information. The only uncertainty that remained: would he be able to keep up his faux confidence? Every step made with certain gait and his head held high taxed him, and they hadn't even begun the proverbial fight. Only one way to find out, he supposed.

As he followed after Lilith, he found the battle had, unsurprisingly, already begun. She strode with a mesmerizing sway of her hips, the kind that would bewitch weaker men. Knowledge, however, was half the battle, and knowing her game was enough to keep Aven on his own. The interrogation room, on the other hand, was a sharp contrast to the seductress before him, an unfortunate turn of events, though an expected one. He was on her turf, a place with nothing interesting to keep his attention besides her, perhaps just what she wanted. Well played, Private Kadokawa...

He took a seat as prompted, relaxing back into the chair. He'd have to lean into the act, if he wanted to play the role correctly. "Yes; coffee, if you would. Say, a bit ironic, isn't it, that I'll be the one asking the questions on your own interrogation room? I suppose, both feet have to wear the shoe, sometimes." A godsend, really; a mug of coffee to keep his hands occupied, and his mind alert. Lilith gave him no time to rest, of course, taking a perch up on the table and methodically sowing off her legs. Gods, this is going to be difficult. Aven leaned back as casually as possible, raising his eyes to meet hers. "Of course. I wanted to ask about the Rune Knight's stance on the New Guild, Dies Irae. I heard about them in passing, from the Vice President of the West Fiore Trading Company, Kyran. He only mentioned them briefly, but it was enough to raise concerns." He took a breath, exhaling softly. "Apparently, even as a Legal Guild, they've been granted permission by the Magic Council to, and I quote, 'Take a harsher stance than the Rune Knights when facing down crime.' Unless I'm mistaken, the Rune Knights make a concerted and labored effort to take capture convicts, rather than put them down. By that logic, the only conclusion I can draw is that Dies Irae doesn't have those qualms." His eyes narrowed, though not in suspicion, but a conscious effort to restrict his peripheral vision from tempting his eyes any further down. "Am I correct, in my assumption?"

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[Word Count: 492.]
[Word Count Total: 1942.]

Aven let out a small puff of air through his nose. "As long as they have legal permission to be judge, jury, and executioner on the spot, minor inhibitors like 'protocol' are about as restrictive as a wet paper bag. Any number of excuses could be given as to why a perpetrator was, 'too difficult to be brought in alive'; dead men tell no tales." Witty remarks aside, his suspicions were confirmed; so, why did he only have more questions? He didn't get the sense that she was lying, or withholding anything important, and that meant it was likely the extent of what she knew as a Private. He could try to work his way up the chain, but in truth, that tidbit was all he really needed to know. Anything else, he'd want straight from the horse's mouth, which meant he'd need to pay a visit to Dies Irae. Though, whether or not Johann would be willing to speak with him was another matter entirely.

However, Lilith wasn't finished. She decided to prod him a bit, edging a bit closer to him. Aven crossed his arms, cocking an eyebrow at the Private. "...And if it does? Tell me, Lilith: how many people would I need to kill to be considered evil enough to be killed in retribution? One? Two? Ten?" He cocked his head a bit to the side. "Or, maybe, I just need to kill the right people? A few Councilman would do it, right? After all, it would be impossible for them to ignore those deaths, unlike the people killed wantonly by bandits, bounty hunters, and monsters every day." He planted his hands firmly, and a bit loudly on the table, rising abruptly from his chair to meet her at eye level. "Who could possibly be so free of guilt that they could stare into my eyes, and claim that my sins were grave enough to bury me? Pushing their own brand of self-righteous bullshit, pretending that they have the right to draw the line of who deserves to live or die?" Before he knew it, in the fervor of his rant, he'd gotten close enough to her to see his reflection in her eyes. His adrenaline plummeted, and his blood rose to a boil, producing that cursed flush of red. Embarrassed, he sat back down, looking away toward the featureless wall. "My point is, either everyone has the right to live, or no one does. The Magic Council is just a group of people, like the rest of us, and their idea of good and evil is no less subjective than yours or mine." In retrospect, he may have gotten a tad too heated, but the thoughts had been stewing ever since he heard about it from Kyran. The idea infuriated him, to the very core of his being, a sentiment that was terribly difficult to hide.

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[Word Count: 482.]
[Word Count Total: 2444.]

Aven met her eyes as Lilith spilled out her response. Her eyes were hard, the gaze of someone who'd seen the worst in people. It was the response everyone gave, the enlightened 'nothing is black and white' argument. It was an unfortunate topic, because it wasn't an argument that was easily countered: the world was a mottled mess of grey, which uncertainty around every bend. At a base level, both of their assertions were built on that same foundation, that nothing could be defined as objectively good or evil, but Lilith's view, the one he'd heard so many times in defense of killing dark mages, was one of practicality, rather than morality: it begged the question of guilt, whether letting a murderer live to possibly murder again stains the hands of those who spared them.

Despite all of that, he was staunch in his defense. "And so, we entrust the license to kill to other, fallible humans? The right to judge a person's life by a snapshot, sweeping aside their struggles, hardships, pain and past, as though they were nothing? Are you so cynical to believe a person can't change, that there's no saving the drowning from the deep end?"

Then, Lilith did something unexpected. She dropped the hardness in her voice, adopting a piercing gentleness that cut through his guard like butter. His eyes widened, as she leaned in and rested her hand on his arm soothingly. "Personal...?" His mind sifted through his memories, and he broke eye contact, staring down and away at the monochrome floor. "I... I have a twin brother. He was taken, back when we were only kids, and turned into a pawn for a dark wizard. He's doing everything he can to fight it, but he's being controlled to sow the seeds of an invasion of Fiore." He clenched his fists. "Where's the justice for Zane? We were only ten years old, what did he do to deserve a life like that? In that snapshot Dies Irae would take of his life, they wouldn't see his constant struggle to keep me from that wizards hands, nor would they see the pain and suffering he's endured as a result. All they would see is a threat to the Magic Council, a target for elimination."

Aven raised his head, light blue seas glistening with the whisper of tears, frustration stinging them as he forced his defiant gaze back at Lilith. "I refuse to abandon him to that justice! I'll face down every single wizard in Dies Irae at once before I let them enact their petty justice on him, even if the whole world hunts me down!"

Aven's eyes dried steadily, an ounce of surprise leaking out as he realized he'd been tearing up. Had it truly weighed so heavily on him? Zane... His brother had likely endured far more than Aven could imagine, but Lilith wasn't wrong. It would be far wiser to work to prevent the situation, than to attempt to resolve it afterwards. That was, of course, why he'd visited the Rune Knights in the first place; he was no stranger to preventative measures. On the contrary; despite his brief loss of composure, he'd gotten most of the prerequisite information he needed to move ahead on that very subject, and schedule a meeting with Dies Irae. Knowing where they stand, now, he could go into a discussion at least partly informed about what he needed out of them... the only question was, what would they ask in return?

Aven adjusted his collar, pulling the free-hanging shirt firmly to his shoulders, reaching out and snagging the fresh brew. A small sip gave his mind the warm reprieve it needed. Lilith certainly knew how to push his buttons, but that's likely because her targets were the weak ones. He locked eyes with her, a long, solid pause, wondering which of those buttons she'd be targeting next? After all, his shirt was already completely undone, nothing much left to go after. With a grin, he took another shot at his coffee. "Alright, I'll bite: what did you have in mind?"

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[Word Count: 244.]
[Word Count Total: 3134.]

Aven paced back and forth, stewing in front of the mirror in his hotel room. I'm a fun guy, right? He was just going out for a drink and a bit of socializing; so why did he feel so self conscious? Dark Matter swirled around him like a tempest, over and over, as he flitted through different outfits: black tie, tuxes, blazers, suits, it seemed all he had practiced making, barring the casual wear he'd donned earlier in the day, was far too formal for the occasion. It was new to him, the feeling of being over-dressed, but he assumed it was just a result of his intake of societal convention.

With a loud sigh, he flopped back onto the queen-sized bed. At least, the accommodations in the town were high quality, given the right price. Months on the mountains, while enlightening, had gave him a particular hatred of having to manufacture himself a bed: he never quite struck the right balance between comfort and support when he used Dark Creation for a bed, and ended up with a crick in his back in the morning. Leaning over, he picked up one of the tabloids provided by the hotel, flitting through it mindlessly. He'd be embarrassed to go if he was going to look shabby...

...and then he found it. Like a beacon of light in a dimming world of fashion, Aven flipped to a page with a male model sporting what they called, "The New Century Gentleman". The man wore a suit, the jacket unbuttoned and hanging, and no tie or ascot, his shirt instead unbuttoned three buttons down, and slightly flared out to show the barest hint of his chest; His hair was styled up and to the side, and to top everything off, he wore a pair of stylized black sunglasses. Aven wasn't sure about the sunglasses, given it would be nighttime, but the rest he could absolutely use! Making his way to the mirror once more, he spun darkness into a brilliantly white version of the ensemble, choosing include the sunglasses, but hanging them from the 'V' on his chest instead of wearing them. After a bit of fussing with his hair to get it to work with him, he gave himself a proud smile. Tonight's going to be fantastic!


Aven strode gently toward the front entrance of the Rune Knight's guild hall. They'd agreed to meet around five minutes from the current time, if the clock tower was to be believed. Sure enough, just as he reached the entrance, about to knock, the doorway swung open, and Aven was face to face with a far more dangerous form of Lilith; he got the impression that the guild was not her natural habitat, nor her forte, and though he'd had a similar thought before, the confirmation of the theory was still a noteworthy event. Shooting her a signature smile, Aven made an effort to start the ball rolling. "You look even lovelier than I'd imagined, Lilith. I don't suppose you have an idea of where we'll be headed tonight?" He'd tweaked his posture slightly, under prompt of a few of the articles he'd read: apparently, proper posture was viewed as rigid and haughty, and he hardly wanted to emulate those qualities. So, he'd opted for a more open, relaxed resting pose, one hand tucked in his pocket and one leg cocked slightly out to the side, based partially off some of the models in the articles. He just hoped he hadn't picked the wrong source material, like that previous mistake with the... Boy on Boy literature...

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[Word Count: 602.]
[Word Count Total: 3736.]

Lilith's reaction was refreshing, if not a bit of a culture shock. She leaned in for a few self portrait photos with her iLac, donning the sunglasses in a punk-ish pose. She might notice that the glasses were incredibly heavy for their size, unnaturally so, though not enough to simply drop off her nose. Aven couldn't help a small blush at the compliment; he'd worked fairly hard to pull off the look, and a dose of validation was just what he needed to bolster his confidence. Breaking unconsciously into an even brighter smile, Aven laughed. "Justice warrior, huh? I guess that makes you the flirty policewoman?"

Lilith followed up with a few options, and one immediately caught his fancy. "Dancing?" Aven's eyes lit up. He hadn't expected something so far up his alley! He was proficient in four different forms of dance; she couldn't have suggested anything better. However, a brief flash ran through his head, a memory of his time dancing with Nessa. Aven's eyes dimmed briefly, before he shook off the gloom. "I'd love to go dancing, that's a fantastic idea," Gesturing ahead, he'd shoot his company a wink. "Lead the way!"

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[Word Count: 195.]
[Word Count Total: 3931.]

Three for one drinks? That was a deal, for sure, though he was decently positive a generous helping of alcohol wouldn't do his dancing any favors. Most of his skill in the field involved precise and practiced movements, even the more lively genres like Salsa. As the cab pulled up, he would open the door for Lilith, before sliding in next to her. The seats were comfortable enough, though he was still getting used to the transportation in the big cities: he'd much rather fly than ride, after all.

Lilith didn't waste much time getting into small talk, as he probably should've expected. The subject was a surprising one, mostly considering he had the same question to fire back. "Hmm... about me?" He let the though settle in the air, as he gauged just what, and how much, he wanted to say. Aven didn't have anything to hide, exactly, but he figured she'd only be interested in the highlights. "I'm a Fairy Tail wizard, have been for a few years. Heir to the Alveron Family estate, I've only recently gotten out into the real world, and started experiencing what it's actually like; after all, high-society is a realm of its own." He gazed wistfully out the window, watching the city roll by. "I guess you could consider me an eccentric, both in magic and life; I've put everything I have into learning how to protect myself and others. Ironic, that I feel the need to ask for help protecting my brother, given that fact." He returned his attention back inside the vehicle, meeting Lilith's eyes. "What about you? Surely, there's more to Lilith Kadokawa than just a social butterfly in uniform?"

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[Word Count: 282.]
[Word Count Total: 4213.]

Outer layers was right, Lilith certainly played her cards close to her chest. Aven didn't mind, though; not everyone was an open book, and some novels had to be read page by page. He chuckled lightly at her response. "Life's boring conformities, huh? That's quite a lexicon you have going there, but I have to wonder: why should a girl like you be worried about conformity?" Aven's eye flitted out the windows, as the cab slowed to a crawl, pulling up beside a bright neon sign, reading, 'Limbo'. Odd, it was a small venue to have any kind of ballroom floor, seemingly no bigger that a bar. Maybe, there was a basement? He could tell from a glance, but he picked up a faint thumping of music from within.

Ignoring the rhythm, for the time being, he swung open the door, stepping out onto the curb and offering a hand to Lilith. He spoke with a teasing grin. "Between the two of us, one would assume I'm the one who needs help breaking free of the monotony. I guess problems reach across the isle, huh?" There were social lines that Aven couldn't always identify, a part of the reason he'd come in the first place. At the moment, he was testing the line between confidence and sass, hoping to land somewhere in 'charming' zone rather than the 'rude'.

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[Word Count: 229.]
[Word Count Total: 4442.]

Aven gave a light chuckle, as he helped Lilith onto the sidewalk. "Language, Lilith! Perhaps you don't give one, but casual use of those words is a slippery slope." He'd never been fond of flippant 'F-words', believing the word's errant usage detracted from the situations that truly warranted it. Still, his tone was humorous, realizing full well that many didn't share his opinion, and often joked about that difference. His thoughts were quickly interrupted, however, by a quick once over of their destination. Something was definitely off, or at least, ill-fitting of his expectations: the attire of the patrons entering "Limbo" were suspiciously risque, especially some of the women. Furthermore, a large, muscular man was posted at the front, checking identification. Normally, he wouldn't have thought anything of it, considering many soirees and balls had guest lists, but they hadn't exactly made a reservation, to his knowledge. Maybe, Lilith had called ahead?

Aven pulled out his Fairy Tail membership, handing it politely to the man at his request, and received it back without a word, ushered inside along with Lilith. So she did make a reservation! A bit more forward-thinking than he'd expected from the seemingly spontaneous young woman, but a welcome surprise. With a gracious nod to the musclebound receptionist, he strode in, smiling in response to Lilith's warning as they walked through the door. "I'm sure I'll be fine, I've been to crowded gatherings before!"

The music was boisterously loud on the inside, of course, but that was hardly what drew Aven's attention. In fact, nothing individually encapsulated his focus, but rather, everything did. He was quickly overwhelmed by the sight of various metal poles, most being unceremoniously mounted and caressed by women scantily dressed as Angels and Demons. Given his experience with the former, he could immediately tell they were nothing of the sort, but that was hardly relevant. The establishment was absolutely rife with an overwhelming aura of desire and lust, the sheer magnitude hitting Aven like a brick wall.

Stumbling for a moment, before he regained his balance and composure, Aven realized his jaw had dropped ever so slightly. On what he assumed was the "dance floor", people of all kinds moved in provocatively alien ways, though some slightly reminiscent of the more scandalous salsa performances he'd witnessed in the past; at least, in the sense of pelvic proximity. His normally gentle smile became skittish and nervous, matching both the tone of his skin and voice. "O-oh. Well, this is a... a bit more than I expected." His eyes flitted toward the bar, and he nodded vigorously. "A drink! Yes, of course, we should get a drink! That'd be fantastic." He hurried over to the bar, eager to sit and process his predicament. He'd ventured out to expand his horizons, that was true; still, he was quickly dawning on the conclusion that he'd wandered into the lions den, and his only lifeline was none other than a lioness herself.

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[Word Count: 495.]
[Word Count Total: 4937.]

Aven's eyes trained on the bar, chancing a smile as he accepted the drink, clinking the glass. "Cheers." After downing the shot in one go, a look of surprise washed over him, as he realized that the drink was actually very sweet and pleasant. From the sound of it, he'd expected an incredibly hard liquor; instead, he found that the concoction slipped down his throat without so much as a whisper of burn. As to whether that was his magic protecting him, or a quality of the drink itself, was anyone's guess; not that he lingered on the thought for very long. If anything could've been said to be 'liquid courage', Miracle was a strong contender, and as Aven felt a warm buzz wash over him, he called over to the waiter. "Another, if you would!"

His eyes flitted over to Lilith, who'd finished hers as well. "A booth, or the dance floor?" He gave the center of the room a good once over, drinking in the details. Women lewdly grinding on men to the steady rhythm, a few contingents of segregated gatherings waiting for the opposite to gather the nerve to approach, and even a few couples in the background making out in a booth. If there wasn't already a small tinge of red from the shot, he was sure the color had made it's way there. The aura of the patrons was still pounding away at his senses, forcing him to purposefully dull his magical awareness. He'd be fine to drop his guard; it was supposed to be a fun 'night out', after all.

One more glance at the booth, before he intercepted his second dose of Miracle as it slid across the bar, taking the time to savor it this go around. Halfway through the shot, Aven gestured out to the floor. "I'll take my chances with a dance," He downed the rest of the shot, and stood up, holding out his hand, "That is, if you'd be willing to join me?" Those hooligans on the floor didn't know what it meant to really dance, rather than simply throwing one's body all over someone else. The core of dancing was passion, not lust, and he'd be sure to show them just how different the two were.

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[Word Count: 380.]
[Word Count Total: 5317.]