Asrael so rarely sat next to the tavern’s windows. Even before his undeath, he had avoided the sun, as he was well aware how destructive the sun’s radiation was to his frail skin. Neda had heard him mention it a hundred times already, which was why she found it so curious that he had chosen to seat himself far across the tavern from his usual seat and stare out at the distant street. It was only as she approached that she came to realize that Asrael had not chosen to break from his habits, as it seemed the sun had somehow... disappeared. The necromancer sat with his right leg folded over his left and scratched his chin ponderously. His narrowed eyes continued scanning the street outside, as if waiting for someone or something. Neda stepped up to the window and looked to see if she had lost track of time down in the cellar, only to find that it was still day- however late.

But the sun was shrouded by a thick layer of smog- pitch-black, roiling smoke that carpeted the upper atmosphere of the city and shielded them from the usual, late-afternoon heat. She grabbed Asrael’s shoulders from behind- equally excited and frightened at this strange phenomenon. “Hey, what’s going on? Where’s the sun at and why’s it so smoky out there?”

His unnerve was apparent in the way that he did not shrug her away from his shoulders, instead, he spoke: “I have seen this kind of pollution before, but not since they set the Tower aflame. I suppose a large fire is burning something inside- or just outside the city.” He quietly informed. From up-close, Neda could see how pristinely clean Maribelle kept the mysterious material she had come to know as ‘glass’.

“Wanna go out and check it out?” She asked. Asrael gritted his teeth, as he knew what would come next. “Just the two of us- we can go on a gate, right?” The necromancer pinched the bridge of his nose and silently swore never to allow the girl to go anywhere near neither Maribelle nor Bartholomew- at least until she had defeated her raging hormones... perhaps castration would work?

“They have blocked the gates leading in and out of the city. In an era where the popular mode of execution is by burning innocent people, the skies are now black with smoke and you- in your wisdom- wish to go out on a-…" He almost choked on the word, but could not allow her to remain uncorrected. “Date?” Neda scratched her chin and attempted to mimic how he would usually scratch his chin when thinking. She nodded.

“Yeah, so-… can I go like this or do I have to change, or...?” He raised his hand to rub his palm aggressively over his face and shake his head.

“You are supposed to be downstairs- carving my soldiers. I had to sacrifice thirty-or-so of them to save our lives, you remember this, yes?” She stepped back and proudly proclaimed: “I did! We’re done!” Asrael lowered his brow with disbelief. Kester’s morning butchery had gifted them five unconscious men. He turned around, raised his eyebrow and looked at her with disbelief. They were getting faster- both the girls were, but this...

She took pride in seeing his doubt and confusion. Granted, it had mostly been Ellie’s work, but they had both partaken in the activity, which meant that she had earned his celebratory, stolen glance at her cleavage.

“How have you done it already? That should have taken you until tomorrow-” She proudly folded her arms beneath her breasts and pressed them upwards- hoping to shatter his stalwart defenses against her womanly charms, but to no avail. Her forcing him to use such an immoral term had hardened his will. Before he could force an answer from her, both their attention was stolen away by a hurried form outside- clad in a rugged, tattered and torn leather cloak- sprinting at full speed down the cobbled road leading up to the tavern.

Neda scowled at the approaching man and breathed a sigh of relief as the hooded figure reached the door, only to find it locket. “Hey! Hey, open my door, you asshole!” Kester shouted through the wood. Ah yes- the tavernkeeper, Asrael thought as he remembered what he had been waiting for before the lusty pervert had come to pester him. Neda clicked the lock open- proud to display how she had learned to handle the mysterious concept- and watched Kester pull back his hood to immediately lock the door in his wake.

His eyes were, if possible, even darker and more bagged than their usual selves and the frown was distinctly less aggressive and more... melancholic... as he ran a nervous hand through his wild, bustling, blonde hair. He rarely drank from his own stores, but given the occasion... he stepped over to the bar and reached behind the neatly polished countertop to retrieve a bottle of spirits. He spoke as he uncorked it:

“Dunno what’s going on out there. They’ve shut the gates, boarded them up and jammed the hinges. There’s Inquisitors everywhere, so I figured I’d go check the Garrison.” Kester brought the bottle to his lips and raised it up high to let the fiery spirits drawn down his gullet, but to no avail. Every time he blinked, he saw those hanging jaws- those lifeless, red eyes stare down at him from atop the Garrison’s walls.

“They’ve killed the council and put their heads on spikes. That was some gruesome shit, holy Hells...” He ran his hand over his face and took a deep breath- tainting his lungs with the hot spirits, before continuing: “Worst part is, they’ve set fire to buildings all around the city.” He rubbed his face once more and set the bottle down on the countertop before turning to question his dark visitor: “What did you do, Asrael?”

Asrael revealed that he had taken offense with the accusation and dropped his jaw to point out: “I resent your implication that I somehow had something to do with this! I find it more likely they caught a whiff of your lengthy murder-spree and decided to act on it!” Kester took a threatening step forward and raised his fist. “My spree!? How about your spree!?” Neda took a step between the two and raised her hands to disarm her two, fiery companions.

“Hey, hey, let’s calm down... if you keep riling him up, he’s not gonna go on a date with me-” Asrael had heard enough of their foolishness and decided that there was still one sane person in his association. Well, two, counting Ellie, but the girl could hardly be trusted to gather information at a time such as this.

“I need Bartholomew.” Asrael spoke and shot the crazed duo a glare, before grabbing his coat from the chair’s back to depart from the tavern and descended the stairs to the cellar.