#qismet

how he found her was a mystery. while utahime was not technically in hiding, no one sought her out. checked that she was an active sorcerer. the invitation was a simple one. black inked on card stock. the script had been delicate which led her to believe he did not personally craft or send it out himself. perhaps a minion? another mentally vulnerable sorcerer that felt cast out and misunderstood by their own people? the well dressed woman that escorted iori inside? a multitude of questions come to mind until she reminds herself that she does not actually care outside of her aimless curiosity. the natural urge to be in the know. and it's a fancy hall. far nicer than she recalls the campus accommodations being. getō living large since his departure did not seem ill fitting. he was always the more elevated one of his class. had a very specific way with words. confident but not in the way that translated as cocky.

suguru gave the impression of maturity. trustworthiness. the ideal cult leader, which evidently he knew, latched on to with sticky fingers. he is not what she remembers nor expects either. the sight is truly one to behold. iori's brows cinch in just an inch. she is attempting to get better about poker faces. too expressive. too reactive. but she tries. his message is blunt. relayed with a lax tone and smug smile as if he were doing her a grand favor and not an inconvenient disservice. and utahime . . . she thinks of the kids. the innocent lives. her humanity clawing it's way out from the tough tissue. the scarred muscles of her heart. live in his new world or die in the old one does not appeal to her in any capacity.

iori manages a smile. all teeth, no spirit, ❛ i will. ❜ throat clears, head bowing ever so slightly like his mindless followers evidently had a habit of doing. typical iori. so easy to fall in line. to adapt and perform, ❛ it is lovely to see you again. being a fugitive has rejuvenated you, i see. ❜

Finished drawing Qismet, the Veiled Eagle, my perpetually-angsty western Night caste Solar. He’s bent on the destruction of the Lintha, and considers himself the Executioner of any supernatural who preys on the innocent. 

This is more of his “regular person” outfit. He’s actually got a second persona, Batman style, known as the Veiled Eagle, who has a particular armor set that is his “working” garb. 

Qismet carries two paired soulsteel daiklaves, known as Anguish and Agony which he took from a Deathknight of the Silver Prince. He’s vowed to the spirits trapped in the blades to let them rest for a night and a day once a month in a sanctum of one of the Incarnae, as a reminder of peace. Should he ever break that vow, the blades will turn on him. 

" a little drink? to get the mind off of the day! i'll get your first glass, "

wednesday’s breathing slowed as she stared down at the mass underneath her feet. the skin of the beast squelched as she stepped off it and took a moment to simply stare. she had come far since her encounters with a hyde but even so, she could only blame adrenaline for how the events minutes ago had transpired. a simple walk through the cemetery to clear her head had left her with a knife now covered with a sticky black liquid. she stared at what she assumed to be the creature’s blood until a voice pulled her out of her trance. her head snapped up to fix on the shadow in the distance. as the girl drew closer, recognition released the tension in her shoulders. “ thank you. ” she said curtly before quickly moving onto more important conversation.

using her knife as a pointer, she rigidly gestured to the dead monster. “ what is that ? ” wednesday considered herself relatively well versed in the supernatural but even she had a hard time deciphering what lay limp before her. their current circumstances, the timing of it all coupled with their location, led her to believe ayame would have the answers she was looking for.