Waiting for a response (Zell)

by **Ignis** March 15th 2016, 7:09 pm

The carpentry shop was closed for the night, but a single lamp was left on. A carved walnut cabinet door was sitting on the workbench, half complete with the chisels and carving tools lying next to it, neatly arranged in a leather tool wrap. A cup of tea lay beside it, a coaster atop it to keep out the wood shavings. For long moments there was nothing but the faint sound of Sig's breathing as he let the blade of his chisel slide gently over the wood, taking the thinnest of shavings as it went. He smiled and set the tool back in it's place, picking up another and putting in the rough outline of the next section. This continued for some fifteen minutes before he moved to another tool. Over and over again he progressed, the detail becoming finer every time.

Finally, he stopped and straightened, he had been at it for hours. The piece was almost finished, his tea left forgotten. With a smile he picked it up and held up a finger, creating a peanut sized flame that he lowered into the tea to warm it again. Just before he took a sip he spoke

"You can come out now, thank you for letting me work."

by **Zell** March 15th 2016, 11:07 pm

Silence, darkness and shadow. The way of stealth was one very often employed by this particular person. Of course stealth was not always of violent nature, or mal-intention. This particular case just so happened to be the more harmless-stalker version of stealth. In total silence they watched as the craftsman worked, waiting patiently for hours and not making a single sound.

Finally as the last bead of sweat rolled down the craftsman's face, they smiled and took to their tea. Before partaking of their long stagnate drink, however, they made special note in calling the silent observer out into the open, openly thanking them for at least waiting for him to finish working. The silent intruder didn't really make much of a response, though the visitor made it's way to the light.

With a small clatter the visitor dropped form the ceiling and landed in a squatted down position, looking up at the tall Viking. The intruder looked no larger than a regular human, though it was clad in leek grey armor, a black jacket over it, puffs of grey and white fur spiking from all around the collar of its torso as a purple mask rest over it's face. In further detail, the mask appeared to have two areas for two inhumanly purple eyes to pierce through, and a tertiary sphere implanted just above the eye line and dead center of the head. The third eye had a red glow and shifted around as if it were in fact part of the man's physical nature.

"That is impressive. Detecting me is quite hard. Perhaps I slipped up?" The hoarse voice of the man came across for a moment as he seemed to get lost in his own thoughts, an arm folding across his chest, the other elbow posting there as the man brought his thumb and index finger to wrap around the chin of his mask.

"It is no matter. You know why it is I'm here. Tell me what you know." The man said as his voice got lighter in attempts to show he was not here to fight. Standing up and dismissing his previously ponderous expressions for a more appropriate stance. His hands at his sides and his eyes fixated on the man before him, eyes narrowing just a little while the third eye in the center of his head moved, left to right.

Spoiler:

by **Ignis** March 16th 2016, 6:46 pm

As the armored figured fell to the floor Sig set about tidying his tools with the careful touch of someone who has went though the same motion thousands of times, sliding each one into it's place with a delicate care. Each of these tools was like a little piece of him in a way, he had made each one himself and some were like nothing you could buy for carpentry, solutions he had made to problems he had come across. When he had finished he folded the workstation closed and it made naught but a click of the latch closing as its well oiled pieces slid over one another.

He straightened and turned as the stranger righted himself, he had interesting armor, particularly the choice of the third eye, something that Sig had often come across as a representation for secrets and knowledge. Curiouser and curiouser. His head tilted as the figure spoke and he allowed himself a small smile, the white of his teeth catching the light in the poorly lit room. He allowed the man a moment to think and then the smile slipped from his face, straight to business this one it appeared.

"No mistakes, impressive stealth," He said first, taking another sip of his tea "Just got a lot of practice. Comes with age." He drained the cup and set it down, every muscle rippling at the slightest of motions. He looked the stranger up and down, considering him for a moment before tapping his chin. "Remove mask, then we talk." He turned and headed up the stairs at the back of the shop, heading for the apartment above "Come on." he said, gesturing for the man to follow.

by **Zell** March 18th 2016, 10:31 am

The man's eyes widened beneath the mask. The request was one he had heard many times, though unfortunately one he had never been able to honor. There were several reasons, though all of them perhaps not suitable for the old one's ears. The man behind the mask hesitated a moment and shook his head slowly.

"My apologies. I must keep my mask on me. Required for health." He explained, though the only proof that the old Viking could really ask for is to watch him die; a request he could not oblige for obvious reasons. The man pondered a moment before his third eye began to glow. The man's purple mask began to appear as if it were becoming translucent, allowing the old one to see the brown hair and pale skin once concealed. Of course the old one had already begun to move on, causing the armored intruder to continue up the stairs behind him, towards his apartment.

Spoiler:

by **Ignis** March 18th 2016, 12:57 pm

The large carpenter stopped at the mans words and the viking turned around. His eyes held the weight of ages as they cast over him, looking at the mans mask as it became translucent. He paused, his gaze searching and unreadable, before he nodded once, "Very good, I believe you." Was all he said before turning and continuing upstairs and into the sanctuary of his home. He stopped once to unlock the door, which came loose with a mighty thunk - clearly a heavy lock.

"Come in, the couch is comfortable." He said, casting his hand out to the fireplace and lighting it with a small fire ball to ward off the chill threatening to settle in to the night. He went over the the kitchen, it was a nice open plan kitchen and living room so he could still see his guest as he went. "Do you consume?" He asked "If so, tea, coffee?" He flipped the kettle on and opened a cupboard which seemed to have every variety of tea or coffee imaginable. Selecting a cinnamon apple tea he scooped some into an infuser before closing it and filling it with water from the freshly boiled kettle.

by **Zell** March 20th 2016, 1:19 am

The young man, if that's what this agent of the unknown truly was, followed obediently, though looked around and seemed to capture every detail of the room around him. So much so in fact that he actually had a lag in his processing speeds. The old one offered him to sit on the couch. It was not meant in disrespect, though about half a minute later the offer had finally sunk in and the young man immediately did so, though looked over the couch tediously. The fire spawning from the man's hands had been no surprise, though the young man simply took it all in stride as he sat down.

Afterwards the man asked him as far as consumption was involved, though this only made the young man's face contort to a rather glum state before shaking his head.

"Only special things, Consumption is hard for me...I Thank you kindly." He assured his gracious host, the offer was indeed appreciated. It was another moment that he'd wait for the older man to be comfortable before getting back to business once more. "Time is short for me. I am the Criterion. Your power is...strange." he said, though his eyes wandered to his forearm which flashes a small screen of sorts before vanishing.

"Strange, just like my job. It is my job to follow. To follow and learn." He explained before nodding. "I can not ask trust...but to better understand...to defend this realm. I would ask you tell. Please tell me of your power. Tell me of your past."

by **Ignis** March 21st 2016, 1:44 pm

The old viking moved at a leisurely pace, putting sugar in his tea and stirring before moving over to the couch opposite the stranger and sittign down, his posture was slightly hunched, elbows resting on his knees and the cup held in front of his face, his eyes framed and catching the light of the fire, setting them ablaze. He said nothing for a long moment, a heartbeat, then another, then a third. Time seemed to drag out before he spoke and when he did there was weight to his words. This was the voice of a man who commanded, yet his voice was quiet, almost soft enough that you had to strain to hear, that may have been part of the trick, you wanted to listen, therefore you listened harder.

"I am fire." He said simply, a halo of flames erupting around him. "It is my lifeblood and mine to command. I can consume it and by doing so I heal, I have been killed no less than four times and each time I have risen when they put fire to my body." He fell silent again and took a drink of his tea. "I have a history too long to summarise, I have been a good man and I have been a cruel one. Ask your questions, I will answer."

by **Zell** March 22nd 2016, 10:36 am

"I understand now. How did you come about this? What happened to you? The Criterion asked his primary questions, beginning his quick assessment of this threat; though truthfully it did not seem as though this was quite what he believed it was. Now the kind and honest old one was simply fascinating rather than a threat. Though something came to mind, and given the current "circumstance" it would likely be considered rude for the Criterion to be so invasive. "I apologize. I did not mean to be rude. You too have questions?" The quizzical tone would hopefully convey the message that he himself was willing to share information with the old-one, should he want to know. Despite his rather strange English, the Criterion attempted to keep his intentions and tones as clear cut as possible.

On the outside of the shop, despite the late hours, a low rumbling could be heard as the vehicle pulled up to the curb and Zell made his way towards the door, knocking on it to see if there would be a response to come. He was just waiting now...

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