Serene Sunset Tavern

Minutes drift to hours, and the hours begin to drift at a pace almost incalculable. Mintaboo had extended his stay in this facility almost a half a day now. The once welcome sunlight outside was now extinguished, and replaced with the cool night's unforgiving breeze. His bottle of brandy now only half full, or half empty, as the immortal would see it.

"I have been here so long, and learned nothing.", the thought entered his mind more than once.

All this talk of "marks", and other terms known by the taverns patriots was foreign to him. Why, they might as well have been speaking a different language, entirely. However, this would not hinder the course of a task to be carried out. A promise to a dear, departed friend.

The liquor engulfed by the shaman came as a contradiction. How he longed for it's numbing, mind altering effects. Anything to ease his mission along would be more than welcome.

It would seem the lodgings of this tavern, more specifically the room marked "113", had seen some use within their oak walls. The long hours of two individuals spoke a tale one would not dare utter outside of them. However, if one would wish to inquire as to said deeds, look no further than to the lad adjusting the seam of his leggings for an obvious hint.

A remarkably strapping male, bearing skin of porcelain white, and flowing locks of streaming ebony. Emerald irises gleamed like gems in the dim lighting of the facility. Soft shimmers of a glaring variation in hues of illuminousity glisten from the sparced metallic platings of his leggings.

Slender, dainty digits wrap gently around the firm, masculin arm of the mysterious male. Their intentions made obvious by the young woman's lackadaisic posture upon the mattress.

"Maverick, please come lie with me. Just a bit longer.", she pleaded, quite pathetically.

The same emerald stones once focused upon the ediface, now fixated upon her posture. The expression light within his visage showed hints of disgust, and annoyance. An expression most unavoidable.

"I do apologise, but I have more important matters to concern myself with, than you.", he replied. His tone cold, yet bearing a sense of cozened sophistication.

"Charon, I don't have time for this."

"Maa, this will only take a few moments of your precious time, my Deathbringer," the slightly tanned pseudo-Sakuraba crooned, tying the crimson and raven locks comprising his Other's long ponytail. Deft fingers subtly gathered the strands and held it in place with a clear elastic band. The said Other almost said something, but due to the rather calm persistence of the Guide of the Departed, the cherry opted not to break the fragile peace enveloping them. Moments like these were golden - judging by the state of the locations they ran across prior to settling in the Order, it had been a while since they got a decent duration of togetherness.

"Certainly suits you well, na?" Charon said admiringly. He was always proud of his handiwork, whatever that was.

"..."

"Eh? Daydreaming again? Come on," the Guide sighed dramatically, crossing his arms while hovering over the silent cherry. "You got a Mark from Domitrix-san earlier. Quit moping."

"...is it fine if I say I feel tired?"

Charon floated lazily and seemed to ponder at his Host's words. "It's okay! All these running everywhere and chasing that idiot pinkhead can deal a huge number on ya. Say you're tired and fall asleep with my spell." A piercing glare hit the mythical one's back, causing him to sigh again. A gentle turn and the play of dim light let the man's features soften. The keeper of Styx spoke, "Joking aside, you need rest. You're not even eating properly. How can you keep up with the Order's lord? He must be expecting great things from you."

A soft, muffled landing betrayed the silence that hung after Charon's rare choice of words had been enunciated. "And besides, that idiot Tsubaki might be a sitting duck somewhere. I'll stick a complete conjuration of a Lux Hasta up his *** for giving you a hard time chasing him. Screw dramatic reunions."

"Sou desu ne?" the raven almost chuckled but he would never let his perverted pseudo-twin have the satisfaction that he definitely lifted his dark mood up. "I'm counting on you then." Judging the weather from the room's window, he stuck a cigarette between his lips and headed towards the balcony.

"Ne, Charon-" (Hey Charon-)

The more muscular one grinned at the now Nihon-speaking cherry. He could not help but become amused.

"Nani?" (What?)

A sliver of a smile adorned the Deathbringer's face, the tranquil moon accentuating the young man's pale skin.

"Yoru wa hobo shūryō shite imasu. Wareware wa yoake made odori dekimasu ka?" The dare slipped out of Sakuraba's lips, posing a threat to the more muscular male. (The night is almost at its end. Can we dance until dawn?)

A smirk was the acceptance of the challenge. "Sukaidokku no chikaku ni. Atsukau ni wa amarini mo atsui yo. Sore de ii?" (Near the Sky Docks. I'm too hot to handle. Is that OK?)

"Dake kuso basho ni mochiagemasu. Sonogo, watashi wa anata ni oshiri wo keri hajimemasu." (Just lift me to the f*cking location. I'll kick your *** then.)

"Hai, hai."

Charon felt proud at their banter, their bonds strengthening. He worked his magic, levitating his Host and headed to the Sky Docks.

"Nemuri wo hitsuyō to suru baai, watashi wa DORMIO wo go utsu zo." (If you need sleep, I'll shoot you with a Dormio spell.)

Training was set until dawn. Departure with Lord Domitrix was deemed inevitable. Time trickles as the Mark Hunt draws near.

"Ne, Charon-" (Hey Charon-)

"Nani?" (What?)

Restrained chuckles bubbled from the raven's throat. "Hontōni anata ga mahō de DORMIO wo motte iru to wa omowanai. Anata dake no reberuappu watashi wa shirazu ni ka?" (I really don't think you even have Dormio in your grimoire. Did you just level-up without me knowing?)

Their flight was hit by a slight turbulence; the idea of being regal was thrown off the imaginary palace windows. Charon surely sweatdropped at his Other's humor, causing him to buckle and taint their trajectory with a touch of inelegance.

"...eh?"

Vaguely a figure came into view from the top of the stairwell. Flowing locks of ebony swiftly swept from slender digits upon the lad's back. Accents of a rather chiseled frame imprinted from within the strange, abysmal, leather-like armor addorned by his mold. A rather lengthy broad sword, almost charcoal in color, made of a peculiar, ceramic-type material.

From down the hallway came a rather angered, feminine voice. "You think you're so special! Don't you, Maverick?!", the young woman furiously shouted.

A smug smirk plastered upon the smooth, silky face of the demigod. He had completely ignored the squabble he was nearly engaged with, as he had spotted a man seated at the bar. The same, blind immortal whom had been seated, sipping brandy for hours now.

It became obvious the two were acquainted when Maverick had seated beside him. Iron tips of a steely gauntlet rested upon the wooden surface before him, as he turned to face his accompany.

"I once heard that blind men were exceptional trackers of time. Perhaps my sources are unreliable.", the statement follows with a sarcastic smirk.