(Untitled)

[son_of_durotan]

[Thrall grunts slightly as he exits Caravaca house, wolf in tow. Covemates of the lumbering orc may notice a door that looks as if ripped off its hinges and strewn lazily aside.]

Hrm... the elements are certainly... odd, here. They're in constant flux... but I can't seem to pin it down... [He sighs slightly and pats the wolf on the head, heading

Comments

[cetraflowergirl]

This place is beyond what you know, that which was familiar is lost. [Her wings flicker, sending fine dust everywhere.]

I too have lost touch with the earth on my arrival, it has been slow growing accustomed to it.

[son_of_durotan]

[Thrall arches an eyebrow, rather surprised and concerned about Aerith's appearance.]

Miss Aerith...? Are... Are you alright?

[cetraflowergirl]

I am well. [Her antennae twitch, her wings folding down and in. It's hard to tell where she's focusing without her having pupils, she cocks her head, considering his words.]

I no longer have the urge to steal children. It is not as good when they cannot see me. It would ruin the effort of creating a changeling to replace the child with. It is wrong to steal the children, I suppose, though I have had Marche to play with, and he is fun to fly with.

[son_of_durotan]

[Thrall places a hand on the handle of his hammer, his wolf hunkering down slightly.]

I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean...

[cetraflowergirl]

[She closes her eyes, scowling in concentration. The ethereal wispiness of her voice fades, and she sounds more like herself. It is taking a lot of effort.] I am not sure. I've been having strange compulsions lately. I don't know why. I need to ask Vergil, he knows what I've been turned into.

The answers are beyond my reach, i cannot explain the reasons behind my actions, I have been acting more on impulse than thought, instincts that I had not felt before.

[son_of_durotan]

[Thrall dismounts, keeping a firm grip on the handle of his hammer.]

Aerith, I want to help you... this Vergil, where is he? I will get your answers, one way or another.

[cetraflowergirl]

[She hisses softly, hunching her shoulders.] The younger son of Sparda lives in the house where I dwelt naught but a few nights hence. I cannot go back until I have been set right again. The walls, they cage me.

....Upper cove. [She frowns again, but smiles after a moment.] You two live right next to each other and you don't know each other's names? Really, Thrall.

[son_of_durotan]

[Thrall arches an eyebrow.]

Hmm... I've only been there for a few minutes. I've been sleeping beneath the stars... I was only in the building after the city transported me there when I apparently strayed too far from the city limits...

What does this... son of Sparda as you put it, look like? I will be sure to get whatever answers you require.

[cetraflowergirl]

The sons of Sparda have hair the color of snow, and eyes the blue of a winter's sky. Both are warriors, the elder clothes himself in reds and browns, while the younger in blacks and blues. Vergil pushes his hair back from his face often, to keep apart from his brother whose hair is always in his eyes.

[son_of_durotan]

[Obviously uncomfortable with the rather flowery speech, Thrall nods and grunts, turning to his wolf and mounts it.]

Right. I will return soon with whatever information I can gather.