Description: Milady has sent me to Southtown so that I may investigate the energy signature left by the Black Susano'o... while there, I encountered a face from the past; an individual previously disposed of by Master Clavis long ago, now returned and with no memories of this incident. He spoke of a mysterious 'Raquel Alucard', though I know that esteemed House never had a Mistress by such a name. Madam Rachel must be made aware of this at once. With any luck, the boy shall pick up an outfit more suited to the occasion before she has a chance to summon him...
It's weird how, despite a rampaging war of demonic cyborg entities and paramilitary corporate armies just outside the proverbial walls, life finds a way.
The various shops and cafes of Southtown Village are hardly pulling their usual numbers, but one can't really blame pedestrians for staying off the streets unless they absolutely need to go out. But 'fewer people' isn't 'no people' -- students in particular, in defiance of worried parents, still come to their favorite coffee places, congregating in window seats, talking on the street. It's the dose of normalcy that one needs amidst the horror of impending disaster.
Standing amid the throng, in a small round seating area just off the main street, is Naoto Kurogane. His fight winnings from various back room brawls ended up being more than he thought; enough for him to have a nice winter jacket and gloves so he doesn't freeze in the chilly weather. Between that and having somewhere to stay at a local youth center for fighters -- something he was definitely surprised to find -- things are looking up.
Right now he's eating a roasted sweet potato right out of the foil, the heat making curls of steam rise from it invitingly. In the other hand is a newspaper, flipped to the middle of section A. His brow furrows as he reads a story about the momentary solar eclipse and the destruction just outside the city. "Huh..." he mutters, deep in thought, remembering what he felt at the day and time the story mentions. A deep, unsettling feeling of power, but one that was also hauntingly... familiar.
He takes another bite of the sweet potato, lost in thought.
The power of the Black Susano'o had been unleashed.
Throughout the realms, the energy signature of that pure destructive force had been felt. Certainly, it had been observed and noted by the vampiress Rachel Alucard; after all, the recent machinations of Yuuki Terumi were already known to her and the elderly beastkin who had served her Family for generations. That he had already absorbed so much power, so much hate, as to make such a thing possible...
...to say it was troubling would be a great understatement. He had annihilated a portion of creation itself - not simply an act of destruction, but an eraser rubbed against the very fabric of existence. This, even while the threat of the United Nations and the Justice Gear were still very real - by themselves, those earthly events would likely not pose much concern for the current Mistress of House Alucard.
But an old enemy has taken advantage of these troubled times to set his own schemes into motion, utilizing the chaotic state of the earthrealm to break free of the boundary... and now, with the hatred of not only the Legendary werewolf, but his mistress Rachel Alucard, Master Jubei, and who knows /how/ many others to feed off of... his power grows daily.
Dispatched by Madam Rachel to investigate the after-effects of this event surrounding Southtown, is her elderly manservant and near-constant sentinel Valkenhayn R. Hellsing. The powers of his Mistress allow him great mobility between the realms, and so he has been crisscrossing the area around Southtown for the past day... there's not /just/ the signature of the Black Susano'o that concerns the vampiress he has pledged his lifelong loyalty to, but...
.../other/ things are coming forth into the earthrealm; individuals long-since lost to time. Jubei Mitsuyoshi was one, a recent visitor to the Estate, but it appears he is not the only one to have been thrust back into the forefront in the wake of Terumi's resurgence.
And so, the beastkin butler is strolling amidst the crowds of Southtown Village - he knows not what he's looking for, not /specifically/, but Lady Alucard had assured him he would know it when he saw it. It must be said, the elderly gentleman looks rather out-of-place amidst the rest of the populace; the blood of a lycanthrope keeps him warm enough despite the weather in his typical black-with-gold trimmed formalwear, the same immaculate white gloves covering his hand, pink ribbon around his hair.
Does he ever change clothing, one might wonder? It's likely he has an entire wardrobe filled with countless replicas of his butler's clothes.
His keen eyes search throughout the crowds as he wanders the streets, his mind wondering how Madam Rachel is getting on back at the Estate without him... since it has become obvious Terumi takes her every absence as an opportunity to intrude upon her Home, she has been more reluctant to leave it of late. And regardless, what is a good servant for, if not to do the tasks that are beneath such a powerful and stately creature as Rachel Alucard?
It's not his eyesight that first gives away the presence of someone who should, by all rights, /not/ be here - but rather, the nose of a lycanthrope. That scent... impossible.
Then again, recent events have shown Valkenhayn that what he once thought 'impossible' - including the return of the banished Terumi, the sudden appearance of Master Jubei, and many other occurrences - are anything /but/. Sniffing the air, his sense of smell pushes him onwards through the throngs of people - many of them shooting odd glances at the well-dressed elderly man with his nostrils turned upwards.
Until... he sees another face, from long ago. That /boy/ Clavis Alucard killed... standing there, reading a newspaper and eating a roasted sweet potato, as casual as anything - as though he were not an anomaly on this earth...
Long strides carry him towards the individual, the polite butler apologizing swiftly for every jostled passerby that he has to move through... until, he finds himself stopped, several long paces away from Naoto, looking at the man whose face is cast downwards at that newspaper. No doubt reading about the same event that drew the old Legend here himself - but if he seems to understand the ramifications of it, the boy is /not/ showing it.
Clearing his throat loudly from his spot some small distance from Naoto, is Valkenhayn himself - standing still as a statue, perfectly postured, arms held straight at his side, only his long white ponytail occasionally whipping in the winter wind... but the look in his eyes tells a different story - shock, surprise, and an odd threat, somewhere deep within his gaze. This boy should /not/ be here.
"What is your name." -- it is not a question. He knows it. It sounds more... a statement. A demand for some explanation.
You know what else smells delicious? Sweet potatoes. And the senses of smell and taste are very strongly linked. Basically this means that sweet potatoes are good and Naoto is eating his quite happily because it's warm, the weather's cold, and it tastes good. But Valkenhayn Hellsing is a tall, tall man, and without meaning to, he has a way of... looming. The butler casts a long shadow, and since the other activity Naoto was engaged in was reading a newspaper, the arrival of the werewolf elicits a response before Valkenhayn even says a word. Of course, as Naoto is blinking in confusion, Valkenhayn has a very direct and reasonable question. "Little rude to a--"
It's like the world comes to a dead halt as the brown eyes turn upward, head tilted since the bench he's sitting on is considerably lower, but whatever words Naoto was going to say die on the vine as a powerful flood of memories flows over him like an avalanche.
'He could have killed me! Who even was that?'
'They're Immortal Breakers. Their job is to destroy immortal beings.'
But the memories in Naoto's mind, tinged as they are with the very sharp, visceral recollections of real-world pain on his actual body, cannot be dismissed as illusions... yet they don't match the person standing in front of him. Yet they must. The Eye of the Hunter doesn't lie: that overpowering amount of life force, the feeling of familiarity. All of it, a cognitive overload of conflicting information, slams into Naoto's consciousness in the time it takes Valkenhayn to ask a question as simple as his name.
"...man I have SO MANY questions right now." You'll notice he didn't actually say his name.
As soon as Naoto raises his head and those brown eyes lock onto Valkenhayn's own... the beastkin /knows/ he hasn't made a mistake. His nose had never failed him in the past; still as keen as it was in his youth, the same hypersensitive nostrils that allowed him to track down so much prey during his brutish early years has - unlike so much about the old Legend - /not/ dulled with the passage of time. He knew, before he even laid eyes upon the boy, but that stare...
...that stare simply confirms it. There can be no doubt; it's him.
Immediately, the memories flood Valkenhayn's own mind, of the Naoto /he/ knew, the one Clavis Alucard disposed of long ago. With his own two eyes, he witnessed it... and that voice, it's the exact same.
At one point, this would have stunned the wizened butler into some kind of startled silence; perhaps akin to the shock he displayed when opening the front door of the Alucard Estate and seeing his old friend, the One-Eyed Twin Lotus, just days prior.
But now? Now he knows that things are shifting, changing, the very fabric of creation itself is being molded into something different - no doubt an effect of Terumi's manipulations, his schemes around the borders of reality slowly coming to fruition and causing that which has been buried for so long... to again rise to the surface.
Even still, to see someone that Master Clavis had killed, personally, returned to this realm... well, it is a troubling situation. Does he take matters into his own hands? Certainly Madam Rachel would be... intrigued to hear of yet another remnant from the past returned to the present... it poses a predicament, to the man so used to following orders to the letter.
"Your questions are unimportant," comes the swift response from the mouth of the well-dressed, looming man - his tone holds no edge too it, calm and controlled but with a certain firmness that seems to warn that /his/ questions take precedence in this affair, "I am still waiting for an answer, boy."
He pauses, to take another step forward - there's no danger in his posture, it remains stiff, professional. A man long-accustomed to dealing with those beneath his own station, on behalf of Madam Rachel - his patience is great, but certainly not limitless.
"Know your place. I'll ask again; your name, please."
Comparatively, things are not so clear cut for Naoto Kurogane.
What he mostly remembers is waking up in a dark alley in an unfamiliar city, where everything is CLOSE to what he knows... close, but different. The sights, the smells, even the more metaphysical things he can sense are all SO CLOSE. But that feeling is maddening; it's like living constantly with the sense that there's something out of the corner of your eye you're trying to see, and every time you turn, it's gone. Add to that his patron's fading demand to 'find her' and, well...
The newspaper and potato just drop out of Naoto's hands; the former flutters away in a winter breeze with a sound of crinkling paper, and the latter lands on the ground, half-eaten, with a dull thud. The brown-haired youth, on the other hand, rises from the bench he was sitting on to stare Valkenhayn directly in the face. He's not necessarily aggressive; the werewolf would be able to tell, with his superior senory acuity, if Naoto were poised to spring. But he IS defiant, because from his point of view, this is the straw that broke the camel's back.
"Know my... what the hell? You know damn well what my name is! Why the hell are you so freakin' old? Where the hell am I? WHERE is RAQUEL?"
As a creature who exists outside of 'reason', Valkenhayn R. Hellsing is entirely unfamiliar with the feeling that so many of these recent arrivals must be going through. He remembers everything about his past, though he would sooner forget a large portion of it - in fact, those thoughts of days and years long-gone have only burned brighter since the return of an ancient foe, Yuuki Terumi.
For all Valkenhayn knows, it may already be too late to stop the destruction to come; and yet, he is bound by oath to try, to carry out the wishes of his Mistress no matter what comes. No matter what monsters from his past he is forced to face, despite whatever dreams he may have had for a calm and peaceful retirement from such things.
That name, Raquel, draws one raised, white eyebrow from the manservant - he knows nobody by that name, nobody that the Naoto /he/ knew might have known... but then, he wasn't particularly /familiar/ with the boy, before Clavis put him to death. Some memory from his past, perhaps? Some fever-dream caused by the shifting of reality? He does seem... confused.
And yet, for all that, there is no mercy in Valkenhayn's tone, or posture, or eyes. His cold gaze drills into Naoto, even with the man's shouted demands, his insolent words - so crude, so... beneath Valkenhayn's own stately mannerisms. Tch. He can only imagine what Lady Alucard would think of such a brute - it's fortunate she sent /him/ on this search, rather than coming herself.
He would, after all, hate for her to have to deal with a crude child such as this. And yet, to teach some manners to this boy, in the middle of a crowded Southtown Village - it simply would not do. Decorum calls for a more subtle approach, if at all possible; even though he may mentally be preparing himself for a conflict... the boy he knew briefly was hardly one to act reasonably, from what he remembers.
"I do," are the only two words that immediately come out of his mouth in response to Naoto's tirade - scoffing slightly as he watches the newspaper and sweet potato drop to the ground. Such poor manners, /and/ littering thrown in the bargain? Yes, this certainly is the one he knows... but what... what is he doing /alive/, nevermind /here/?
"And I saw you die, Naoto... unless you wish a /repeat/ of this incident, I would caution you to lower your voice, and watch your /tone/. As I said; know your place, or I shall endeavor to put you /in/ it."
There is still no real danger to his tone, more the sound of an elder scolding some out-of-control youth, trying to shame them into something resembling good behaviour. Despite the past, despite the fact it was his old /Master/ who put an end to him... this boy /may/ prove useful, if only he were capable of correcting his tone and treating his betters with the respect that they deserve. Finally, he opens his mouth to speak again, voice softer but still with that cold, determined tone to it.
"I know no Raquel. Of whom do you speak?"
In contrast to Valkenhayn's cool and unshifting expression, Naoto's face is an open book of conflicting emotions. The werewolf admits knowing Naoto's name, making his demand for it a rhetorical question, and some turning gear in the brown-haired youth's head catches, the mechanisms begin to turn, and realization slowly dawns. He still looks annoyed, but it is an expression that is slowly softening. Looking away for a moment, Naoto runs a hand through his messy shock of hair, brows knitting. "Man I guess it's comforting that in the middle of all this that you're still an overbearing jerk, Hellsing."
There is a lot to process, here. 'I saw you die' trips another series of memories, the hand in his hair reflexively coming to the right side of his neck as he brings it back down to his side. 'Do you want to survive?' He'd said yes, because it would have been crazy not to... but despite it all, Naoto Kurogane has no regrets about his life after that. A life that involved Valkenhayn R. Hellsing in some meaningful capacity.
Heaving a sigh, he turns back to the werewolf and takes a deep, slow breath. "Raquel. Raquel Alucard. About yea high," he says, holding his hand out palm-down at a height a little shorter than himself... and very definitely taller than another Alucard vampire that Valkenhayn may be familiar with. "Black ribbons in her hair like rabbit ears, really imperious attitude? Literal freakin' vampire? Ring any bells?" His tone is utterly sarcastic and absolutely shows no sign of 'knowing his place.'
For the first time since their exchange began, Valkenhayn's face shows something other than polished professionalism; first it's the words 'overbearing jerk', which cause a scowl to cross his otherwise-stoic face as he takes another firm, long stride towards Naoto...
...that alone, he could live with. After all, he has no illusions about his own, frequently condescending, behaviour. To the butler, it is just a result of all the time that has passed since accepting Clavis' offer of employment those long decades ago. Serving a ruling Family of Immortals tends to cause one to look down upon most other beings as 'lesser than', no doubt rightfully so in the beastkin's mind.
But for /this/ boy to speak the name 'Alucard', to - perhaps - purposefully mispronounce Madam Rachel's glorious name... well... that is almost a step too far, and the clenching of Valkenhayn's jaw is a sudden thing - a fierce look crossing over his previously skeptical, questioning gaze.
One gloved hand comes up, aiming to grab at the scruff of Naoto's coat - his limb moves with a speed that seems entirely out-of-place on a man his age... a sign that the abilities and reflexes of one of the Legendary Six Heroes has not dulled as much as one might have expected with the long passage of time.
As that arms moves to clutch at the boy in front of him, he does not attack; rather, he simply moves his face closer... staring down at Naoto, he hisses between grinding teeth. For all he knows, the child is playing games with him here, trying to goad him by 'forgetting' the name of his Mistress intentionally. After all, he truly has no idea that this Naoto is not quite the one he knew...
"Madam. /Rachel/. Alucard. If you /dare/ to speak her name," he says, voice rumbling low, almost growling, "...you had /best/ do it /correctly/. And with the /proper respect/."
This close, it's becoming clear that his gaze is shifting colour - despite his best efforts, a red tint is beginning to creep into those determined, now-angry eyes...
...perhaps Naoto is wise or cool-headed enough to defuse this situation. More likely, he is /not/. Valkenhayn is supposed to be the calm-headed professional here, but recent events have begun to bring the beast inside back to the surface, and... well... as far as he knows, this is an insult aimed at Madam /Rachel/ by one far, far below her station.
This could go so many different ways this could go. There's a very real and believable version of this scenario where Naoto takes umbrage at his jacket being gripped, and moves to make his displeasure at that known in a very violent way. As it is, the suddenness of Valkenhayn's movement means that the werewolf gets a grip on Naoto's collar without too much trouble, and the youth's expression does indeed darken. But just like many things about this entire situation -- including the bits that have nothing to do whatsoever with Valkenhayn -- something doesn't add up here. The werewolf Naoto knew would remember a personality like Raquel and definitely wouldn't forget her *name*, and if anything their physical confrontation has made it extremely clear that his apparent aging has not dulled the shifter's wits one bit.
The big question that remains, however, is: what the hell is going on.
Naoto continues to match Valkenhayn's gaze without flinching, however; the blood hunter is no legendary hero, but he can hold his own. But he is very carefully mastering his aggression and confusion, because while his memories of a younger Valkenhayn may be complicated, he at least *respected* the werewolf.
"I don't know a 'Rachel' Alucard," Naoto says guardedly, using a slow and measured tone, watching the other man's reaction carefully. "Never have. Only Alucards I know are Raquel and old man Clavis. But what do you mean, you 'saw me die'. Only people around that day were the spider asshat and Ra... quel..." A pause.
"Look, something is very clearly going on here that neither of us knows about. So how about you act like a normal person for five seconds and let go of my collar before someone walking by wonders what the hell is going on, and/or I take that hand off myself." It's a little aggressive, but perhaps like an idiot, Naoto hopes speaking sense will take the edge off.
Even as he feels his blood start to rush through his veins with furious quickness, teeth grinding, eyes turning that vicious, beastly red as his lycanthropic nature threatens to take over at the perceived disrespect paid to Lady Alucard...
...there is a single thing that prevents Valkenhayn from losing his head completely. A noise, distant and heard only in the back of his own mind - the manic laughter of Yuuki Terumi. He can just picture that fiend watching this exchange; for all the elderly butler knows, he /is/ observing this encounter, and the beastkin knows his hated rival would be... pleased.
Pleased at the usually calm and professional manner of Madam Rachel's ever-loyal servant once again being shattered and taken over by the beast inside... pleased that his return has brought out such uncontrollable fury in the man, that he would attempt to tear this boy apart in the middle of a crowded Village, all over a mispronounced name; whether it is intentional on Naoto's part or /not/.
It is that imagined laugh, that reminder /alone/ that forces Valkenhayn to release his grip on the boy's collar as quickly as he had snatched it up. For a moment, the old Legend even glances down at his white-gloved hand, as the red runs out of his eyes and returns them to their normal colour. What /has/ he become? What monster has Terumi stirred deep inside this elderly servant? He thought those days long-since gone and... if not forgotten, then at least far, far below the surface.
And now, he was mere moments away from an exhibition of fury that would have make that creature of Chaos and Hatred /gleeful/ if he were here to witness it. No. For Madam Rachel's sake, he must /not/ give Terumi any more control over his actions.
He must be the professional that he has spent decades molding himself into, the stately and well-mannered Valkenhayn R. Hellsing that Clavis Alucard formed out of the brutish, savage fighter he once was. For if he does not, then what were Master Alucard's efforts for?
A grievous disrespect would be paid to the memory of Clavis by giving in - even if it was that old Vampire who originally ended Naoto's life... or rather, the Naoto that he /knew/.
This boy? This boy is something different...
Taking a swift step back once he's released his grip, Valkenhayn smooths the front of his black-and-gold formal wear with one hand and then offers a quarter-bow - the barest shifting of his stance, but present all the same - to Naoto. He will give him no more than that; and he hardly believes this crude child deserves even that much.
There are no more apologies forthcoming, for he is still unsure what game this individual might be playing with him. And yet, Naoto's tone seems genuine enough - the keen eyes and sensitive nose of Valkenhayn sense no lies, no deceit within him. Does he truly not know Madam Rachel, the daughter of the man who previously ended his life? And /who/ is RAQUEL Alucard?!?! He's served the House for generations, and there has /never/ been someone named as such...
Finally, there is a small sigh - and one gloved hand reaches into an inner pocket of his tailed-coat, grabbing a small square handkerchief and dabbing at his forehead before replacing it inside the lining of the garment.
"So. It would seem the actions of that monster," he says softly, dancing around Terumi's name - he's come to believe that even so much as the /mention/ of that creature's moniker gives him some unseen power, "continue to introduce... complications."
A pause, as he considers how much to /tell/ this boy... who knows what his motives are? Valkenhayn sees but a fraction of what his Mistress is capable of divining, and he is not qualified to be making such life-or-death decisions of his own accord. No, it is up to Lady Alucard to decide what this boy is, and whether to offer him the same fate that her father did, once upon a time.
"The Naoto I knew," he says, his voice returning to it's professional, controlled tone, "was killed, quite justifiably, by a man I maintain great respect for. /Clavis/ Alucard. And yet, /you/..." he says, voice trailing off as his eyes narrow at Naoto, looking him up and down slowly; it's him, there's no doubt about it, and yet... it's not.
"...are someone /else/. And yet, the same. I'm afraid I have no answers for you, young'n - and yet, I know one who might. I have no doubt Madam Rachel would be interested in exactly /what/ has brought you back to this place, after so long, and with false memories as well. Tell me; were she to summon you, could you /control/ that /insolent tongue/ of yours, in front of one /far/ above your station?"
What matters to Naoto, in this situation, is that Valkenhayn releases his grip; as soon as he's done so, Naoto brings his hands up, roughly snapping his collar back into place before putting a hand in front of his face and breathing out, his breath curling around his fingers in the chill winter air. Said hand then heads upwards, running through his hair once more, before Naoto gives Valkenhayn a look of cool appraisal. "Yeah, that's me," the youth says, smirking faintly, his tone dripping with dry amusement. "Naoto Kurogane, professional complication." Something is clearly up with the world's wolfiest butler, however, and Naoto can sense it. Despite the overbearing and condescending aura, Naoto doesn't really *dislike* Valkenhayn any, and it's clear that something is going on that's ruffling his feathers. Of course, the werewolf in Naoto's memory is not nearly so controlled or composed, which makes him wonder: just what happened in these long, apparently missing, years?
That air of professionalism cracks once again, noticeably and suddenly, at the phrase 'rip his throat out' in regards to Clavis Alucard... /that/ is something Valkenhayn does remember from this world - though so much of Naoto's other words ring hollow. He did hunt down the elderly Vampire with the intention of ending the immortal being's reign, with an old... well, if not 'friend', then at least partner. Another man who has proven to be nothing but trouble since he and the beastkin went their seperate ways.
Relius Clover. Does this boy know him, too? Are his memories both correct /and/ false? Some mixture of the two? Perhaps a game played by Terumi, to reincarnate this boy and send him out into the world to sow confusion, and yet... if that hated creature were involved, certainly this conversation would not be going so civilly, all things considered.
This is something very different, something akin to what drove Jubei to seek out the Alucard Estate - and /find/ it, despite it's place in another realm entirely. If the One-Eyed Twin Lotus could show up unannounced at that front door, as he had days prior, then /nothing/ is beyond the realm of possibility.
Though he does not speak his fears, something is clearly troubling Valkenhayn as he considers the implications of this. Already, the machinations and plots of that green-haired monster are unraveling the fabric of existence. Yes, this boy /must/ speak to Madam Rachel at once, despite his crude mannerisms and lowly station.
"Oh, you can be certain that you did," he deadpans in response to Naoto's statement of 'doing something to piss Clavis off' - one gloved hand to come up and rub the bridge of his nose in a weary, exhausted manner. Sigh. Still the same insolence and disrespect he /remembers/ from the Naoto he knew. Perhaps things are not so different as he initially believed...
..and yet, that name 'Raquel Alucard' still rings in his head. He'd studied the lineage of House Alucard dating back as far as their records went. There never was a vampiress by that name... no, there simply is no way around it. He must be brought to the Lady's attention - she will decide what happens next, one way or another... and if it is to be the same fate he suffered at Clavis' hands previously, Valkenhayn will /gladly/ carry out the sentence himself.
He considers Naoto's response to his query about showing Lady Alucard the proper respect, his eyes narrowing as he calmly adjusts the ends of his two white gloves, left first, then right. One hand then reaches into the pocket of his black, formal tailed-coat, pulling out a golden pocket-watch which he opens and glances at for a fraction of a second.
Placing it back in his pocket and tucking away the golden chair to be barely-visible, he glances back at Naoto. Yes, it must be done. There's a smirk, and his voice comes out of that wizened mouth yet again.
"Milady will treat you as she sees fit. Rest assured, being civil would be wise - stately and graceful she may be, but she is /not/ one to suffer fools. Others have learned this lesson /far/ too late."
A vague threat? Some kind of warning? Or simply preparing him for the meeting with Madam Rachel in the best way possible. It's true, her patience makes Valkenhayn's own look immeasurable by comparison. Taking such a tone with her /would/ be a grievous error on Naoto's part - albeit one that Valkenhayn might be entirely /pleased/ to see occur.
"Answers, you shall get; I promise you that, boy. There is little that escapes Lady Alucard's gaze in this realm, or any other."
He takes another long stride backwards, beginning to move towards the bustling crowd - many of which have taken notice of the odd exchange between the strangely-dressed (for winter in Southtown, certainly) Valkenhayn and the seemingly normal Naoto... they do not dare speak, however, and most simply go about their business.
"I will apprise her of your... situation. Do not worry about remaining here; but also be aware, that there is nowhere on this earth you could flee to escape her gaze, when she comes to fetch you."
Turning his heels to face away from Naoto, he does pause and incline his head slightly, smirk visible as he speaks over his shoulder at the boy.
"Do try to find something more suited to the occasion, as well. Those clothes simply /will not/ do."
Log created on 15:58:17 12/17/2017 by Valkenhayn, and last modified on 22:26:59 12/17/2017.