#wrexvincent

The sound jolted the Corinthian moreso than the burst of stinging pain across his ass. Driving the Nightmare to turn as rigid as a streetlamp as the gears turned in its head. Had he just been assaulted?

The Corinthian turns with a purplexed crease upon his brows to locate the imbecilic culprit who thought smacking him was a good idea - and to his bewildered surprise, his concealed maws lock upon a man that looks strangely familiar.

The reality of the situation was grim. It wasn't just the government that wanted Cove Slidell in custody, it was the gods themselves. The government was bad enough to reckon with, throw in the gods and Nolis knew very well he didn't have any room to disagree with his orders.

In a way, Nolis understood why they everyone was so bent out of shape about Cove. The man, the man from the other world, had killed Daybreak. You really shouldn't just get off scot-free with killing the god of the sun and plunging Creatia into eternal rain showers. That didn't mean that Nolis couldn't admire Cove, though. Killing a god was impressive, no matter how you looked at it.

Still, it was at least a little annoying that Nolis had been tasked to bring this man back and that to do that he had to quite literally travel between dimensions to do it. Which meant going to the Moon Palace and travelling through the portal there. All very official, all very important, all very... bureaucratic.

It goes well enough, though, and Nolis splashes up out of the water alongside the shore of the Gulf of Mexico on the full moon. The water is cold, but he clamors to shore and into the place that he's supposed to be staying the night without a hitch.

Nolis does not leave until the next evening.

When he does, he's donned some slightly less... Obvious apparel. The people of Earth would not be used to his usual dress as the people of Creatia were, so he wears something much more innocuous. A black turtleneck, jeans, black boots and a heavy black trench coat. His gray hair is slicked back, his blue eyes flicking from side to side idly as he walks along the streets.

When he spots the stranger out of the corner of his eyes, he shifts the leather messenger bag on his shoulder and approaches them with silent footsteps. His voice is gravelly, but nice enough in tone.

Cove looks at the death and gore and blood with an impassive expression. It makes his stomach turn but he hides it well. He's seen worse. He's dealt with worse. Still, seeing such brutal viscera was uncomfortable.

Shame on her for not understanding a fellow creature.

Have her own scars not spoken enough?

No startle response yet lived within her, though she received the message clearly. He could tear her apart, easily if she'd forgo herself. The fact alone enough to bolster some semblance of respect-- had to be, as she no longer possessed any sense of self-preservation.

"You're useless if you're dead," an explanation through a sharp-toothed half-smile, while she withdrew. Took a step back for good measure, tilting her head as those yellow-yellow eyes glared back. Such savagery.

Delicious.

Ah, the meaning lost, eroded somewhere between cadence and a knife's edge. He understood. Who in this fortress hadn't fought with tooth and nail? Danced a waltz in viscera, all of the deepest, bone-white steps? Feyd-Rautha knew: this creature looming before him had never been afraid to gnash his teeth, unhinge that jaw.

And that, that made him iiideal.

Made him entertaining and, perhaps, interesting.

A rasp with a blackhole smile:

Truth tended to cut as deftly as any blade-- tell it to the scars she carried, the ones she'd cause. Never made it any less vexing. Agonia left her patience somewhere beyond the horizon to fester in the midnight sun. But the strings of it coax her into behaving.

"A fee," a point to end upon, one that she could agree on. Blackened fingertips hidden beneath gloves speak of her willingness; and the consequences when she'd been less amicable. Fair was far. "I'm prepared to give anything you ask of me."

What little had she to sequester? No one to care for, no riches beyond bone and dirt, and a soul so wretched that no devil could want it. A bone from her own body could be leveled at this point.

@wrexvincent