Description: One after another, wouldbe heroes threw themselves at the monstruous Pharaoh to force the God King from this world. But when the Lord of the Sands fell, the sands vanished, and the plagues ceased, not all who opposed him were left on this plane - Daniel Little was left lost to the Underworld. Tonight, two spiritualists unite in a common cause to bring him back, placing their lives on the line to make sure the agent's sacrifice will not cost him the ultimate price.
THe location looks different than when she last saw it though plenty evidence of the brush with apocalypse that happened here over Halloween remains. Gone are the mountains of sand, linen wrapped colossus, the huge pyramid shaped tomb... even the monolithic sarcophagus that fell from the heavens to crush the supposedly haunted mansion that had stood on these grounds for decades is gone. Of course the wounded are long since evacuated.
But there's still plenty of evidence of what transpired here. The crushed mound of concrete, glass, and wood used to be an old estate refurbished into a haunted mansion for the festival. A carpet of dead flies, dessicated frogs, and crunchy scarab shells is strewn all about - debris left by the visit of the Pharaoh on his conquest of this world. But the most damning evidence that some grave transgression transpired here is only felt by those who can sense it - a forboding aura lingers over the desecreated forest clearing. The long since dead walked these very grounds.
She had been here when it ended. When the Lord of the Nile sunk beneath the very sands he had conjured here. The things she had seen, the powers unleashed, would not ever be forgotten. But he had been stopped, Ayame muses, as she stands alone here and now. Thanks in no small part to the bravery of many who rose up to fight him, throwing aside caution or self preservation to defend this land.
She could not return for a few days. The area is cordoned off by police tape and signs indicating that there is an ongoing investigation as to what truly happened here on the night of the 31st. Only those who saw the horror for themselves would likely ever fully believe what happened and even among them, few could possibly comprehend of the magnitude of what it meant.
But things have quieted now. It is night time. A bright moon hangs in the sky above casting a silver glow over the area. A brisk breeze blows through the trees, picking up dust and ash left by the rain of fire brought by the God King. Ayame leans against a wooden staff as she surveys the area, quietly meditating on what she saw. Clad in the traditional garb of a Shinto priestess, her white, billowing sleeves flutter in the wind while her long, strawberry-blonde hair whips about along her back.
She has been here for a while, quietly reliving the events she saw, relying on her near perfect memory to review every little detail. She would need every clue possible, every iota of information, if she was to pursue this impossible, ridiculous scheme-
To free one Daniel Little from the Underworld into which he was cast.
From the buzzing Metro City, US to the quiet forests of Southtown, Japan. The Sin Eater's quest to find that which is wrong continues.
Truly, it was just a matter of time before someone like him made his way here. This occurrence was not mundane in nature, no terrorist organization, drug cartel or even megalomaniac dictator trying to take over the earth. We are talking bonna fide demons and evil spirits now, the possibility of having your soul stolen is quite real now, a fate fare worse than death itself.
An event of this magnitude wouldn't be overlooked for long by those who hunt the things that prowl in the night. And eventually, one demon hunter appears in the scene. Late, as it usually happens with their kind, but he is here, having followed the trail of spiritual disturbances.
It is not a man at first that approaches the scene, but a wolf, quite clearly not of a kind native to Japan. The wild animal easily slips past under the police line and starts to literally sniff about the area, as if it were looking for clues. A trail that inevitably leads it to Ayame. The wolf rears its head back, ears pointing in the direction where the woman in the shinto priestess robes stands and starts moving in her direction. Question is, what will Ayame do when she notices a wolf walking her way? Or if she has even noticed it to begin with.
She leans against her wooden staff, not out of necessity, but because conserving energy is for the best, for now. Brown eyes shift their gaze to where the Ancient sank, promising that for all their desperate sacrifice, he would make his return someday. An ill omen indeed.
But after a while, her attention changes to a nearby hill, its slope blanketed in dried, lifeless scarab husks. The city hasn't sent anyone to clean up this mess yet, it appears, the rubble of the house and mountains of dead insects having been left alone for now. Ayame exhales softly, finally shifting, pushing off from her staff to move near the slope, stepping up it until she reaches the apex some four meters in the air.
She glances up from there, peering intently at the sky, focused not on the moon or the stars beyond, but rather on a point in space several meters above her. It was there that the ancient sigils were drawn in the air, there where the portal was open, and there where the lone man was hurled into the great beyond. "Hmph," she exhales softly, propping her staff down into the dirt to lean against it once again. There is a lot to puzzle through if a way is to be opened once more. She has already tried a number of incantations, rituals, and prayers to no avail. Something is missing, some key element to part the veil and allow one to pass through...
She reacts after a manner when the new arrival pads in her direction. The wolf will notice how utterly dead this location is. No blade of grass exists, no living insect, no brush. Only dried sticks and scorched earth abound here. Aside from himself. And the lone miko.
Her reaction is not swift but deliberate, turning toward the new arrival before he reaches the small bluff, looking at him intently with only the moonlight to judge by. Creatures of that species and size are not native to this area - especially in this modern area where the bustle of Southtown only a few kilometers away tends to drive away much of the larger beasts to further regions.
Still, one cannot abide by such a creature approaching so directly, and she stands up, taking hold of the wooden shaft she was leaning against, a faint frown at her lips.
"Come to pay your respects to the past, I hope. You will find no prey here."
It is for the best that no clean up crews of any kind have been sent here just yet. It would disturb this cursed ground and otherwise tamper with the signs. The tracks that must be followed in order to follow the being that caused this disturbance.
The demon hunter in question was counting on this too. The sooner he got to this place, the higher the probabilities it will still be intact for him to inspect. To see the destruction for what it really was without mortal hands tampering with what they do not understand. This death was unnatural, to truly annihilate life to the smallest microbe was either the work of a massive weapon of mankind, or an enchantment from another world.
He had to be here, it was his role. Even if the spirits had not warned him about this tampering of reality, it was impossible for him to ignore the presence of the unholy, even this far from his homeland. The Sin Eater would see to this and it was only proper he would work in conjunction with the local forces.
"I sincerely hope not." The wolf's snout does not move, but Ayame will plainly hear it speak with a human voice. "For I sense that the hunt has just begun."
There, energy swirls around the wolf obscuring it for just a moment, before it stands up in its hind legs and transforms into a tall dark skinned man. He wears simple garbs, a buck skin and pants, moccasins, a bandanna with eagle feathers, but the most noticeable of all, red tattoos over his pupil-less, dead looking eyes.
This man nods to the miko in greetings and speaks. "Yatasaii, sister. I am Nightwolf. I take it by the clothes you wear that you are the local demon hunter."
Her eyes narrow as the words are uttered. It's unclear what she expected - what experiences in her life have prepared her for this time, what things did she study, learn, and practice. Nevertheless, she appears unworried, the perfect picture of calm for now.
She lowers her staff back into the dusty ash, kicking up a small, grey cloud in the process that settles once again quickly. "Mn," she muses at the obsevation. A hunt is it? "It is something like that."
A better clue about the nature of this wanderer is provided when the wolf becomes a man standing before her, his attire familiar to her as belonging to the spiritualists of the far Western lands. Proud, to a fault, she is the last to go seeking help unless absolutely necessary, and, were she closer to solving the problems that vex her, she might verily have turned away and paid the man no further attention. Let him conduct his own hunt here, she has business to attend to.
But things aren't that simple. At his comment on her likely occupation, the girl nods her head slightly once in acknowledgement. "One of them," she states. There are others - other ancient family lines, other legacies... but what have they done to stop the madness leaking into the world? It's hard to not to take credit as being the only one.
"A blight from the ancient past was unleashed here on All Hallows Eve." she states softly, the breeze dying down long enough for her clothing to stop rustling for now. "It was banished through the efforts of many." she continues. He should know onto what despoiled land he steps. "Curses from Egypt were uttered and performed here."
She idly scans the area. The evidence, of course, abounds. She pauses, lowering her eyes. "I did not come to hunt that which was already felled. There was a man among those who resisted the Pharaoh's Wrath. In the course of battle, I saw him cast through a tear between the worlds. I..." she frowns faintly. She hasn't succeeded in her goal yet. The thought of imperfection after all she has trained is unpleasant.
"I was hoping to find a way to him, to pull him from the Egyptian Underworld I believe he landed in. If it is not too late, of course."
Rarely, if ever, do demon hunters work together, let alone from different cultures. As far as Nightwolf is concerned, there is no such thing as a regular Demon Hunter, varied and different as there are people in the world. Most of them are eccentric souls by nature, either because they have taken the role due to family obligation, like Nightwolf, or they were touched by the darkness and decided to rise against it. Whatever the nature behind them, pride is definitely an issue in this profession, all Demon Hunters, in particularly the dynasties, have their own rituals, their own traditions, their own preferred methods of vanquishing demons. And naturally, all of them though theirs was the superior technique.
It is not unlike martial artists and their preferred fighting styles once someone thinks about it.
Nightwolf on the other hand finds no sustenance in petty pride. What is pride in the face of humanity being in peril? Nightwolf knew he might not have been well received in these foreign lands and yet.. where was he ever well received? Being who he is. He came here because it was the right thing to do, nothing more.
He is certainly glad that the girl before him does not press this issue and instead helpfully enlightens him in the situation. Although whatever caused this death was now long gone, the shaman indeed sensed that there was something still a-miss, otherwise this miko wouldn't still be standing here, starting perplexedly at the ground.
"Hmm.." The Shaman muses after the explanation. "Egyptian underworld?" This was going to be a lot more complicated than he thought. What were the Egyptian Gods doing in Japan? But importantly, how to pull someone out of their underworld.
"That sounds dire." Nightwolf admits and paces about, keeping a keen ear open to whatever a whisper a spirit might say to his ear. "To pull a man from the realm of the dead is nearly impossible. Nothing short from resurrection or reincarnation in another body would bring the spirit back to the Earthrealm. A tear in the fabric of reality would be needed in order to transverse to the other side and physically pull him out. And that is all considering if he has not yet passed.. should he make the full transition into the great plains, his soul will be beyond recovery, regardless of the actual condition of his physical body."
He pauses briefly and thinks. All this time he has not asked Ayame for her name, figuring she'll give it to him if she feels inclined to do so.
Her attention turns to him as he paces, the priestess seemingly content to wait and hear Nightwolf out rather than press him to get to the point as she normally does when engaging in her typically awkward, blunt social mannerisms. A slow blink as he speaks about what he knows of the realm of the dead and the magnitude of what is involved in trying to rescue the wouldbe hero lost to the cause of defending this land. Perhaps it was that he didn't even seem to be from this region yet would stop at nothing to defend it that caught her attention so, that she will go to these lengths to retrieve one lost soul if possible.
"I believe I have the catalyst we will need to open this tear though I have not yet been able to accomplish it on my own." she finally states, not responding visibly to the idea that Daniel might already be beyond any hope of recovery. If such is the case, so be it, but the attempt will be made until then.
Quietly, she reaches into her left sleeve to retrieve a tightly wrapped bundle of white cloth. Around the cloth are red ribbons tied into an intricate pattern. "Linen wrappings from the Unclean One," she muses. A breeze kicks up again, brushing at hair and clothing alike. "And a fistfull of sand that he had brought with him before it vanished along with his fall. I believe they both still hold some tie to the beyond."
She tucks the bundle and its cursed contents away. Pausing as she seems to weigh what she is about to say very carefully.
"I also... have memorized the hieroglyphs used in the ritual that opened the rift." She stands straight, leaning against her staff a little again. "I have studied their meaning, their words. It is my hope that with the incantation linked to the glyphs, and use of these powerful reagents, a door might be opened. However..."
Her voice fades out. Was it fate that brought the spiritualist to her this night? It is clear now, she realizes - this task is impossible for one to do alone. Alone, she does not have even an iota of what the Pharaoh possessed. Her eyes are on Nightwolf then. She has never really asked for someone else to put their life on the line before; never encountered a burden that she would not try to shoulder herself. But this duty of honor...
"I am certain that one will have to stay behind to serve as an anchor in the long dark, while the other goes in after this man." She hesitates, allowing the implications to sink in. One of them must go in, while the other holds the door open.
"Shaman, I believe... while I will need your help in opening the fissure, I alone can keep it open." That leaves him alone to go in after Daniel.
The girl, as of yet, continues to not offer her name. Maybe she feels such appellations are irrelevant - only the calling matters.
"I-" She closes her eyes, looking to the side then. "I understand if you will not." It is too much to ask, to risk his life for a stranger who might die defending a land that does not belong to him.
This revelation was very fortunate for Nightwolf. He was already devising numerous plans in his mind as to why to travel to the underworld to rescue a lost soul. Plans were thought of, thinking that he could search for followers of this Ancient God to find the rituals that brought him to Earthrealm, or find ancients texts on how to summon him again. Dimensional rifts never opened just like that, someone or something had to forcefully tamper with the laws of reality and bend the barriers between worlds. Either a powerful enchanter or a major cosmic event were needed, sometimes both, and considering that the day of All Hallows was gone, they might need to wait until next year to embark in the search of this lost soul.
And it would be far too late for Daniel by then.
It is why Nightwolf quickly turns to Ayame when she confesses she has the means to mimic the ritual. "Truly??" Dead eyes widen in surprise and he steps closer, inspecting the items that she says are necessary to break the barrier, and he nods. "Yes. Though I have never seen it before, the spirits tell me that is what it is needed to travel to the underworld. Because All Hallows Day has passed it will be far more difficult to open a portal now, but I am willing to lend you all the power I have in order to complete the incantation. I sense that between the two of us we will have what it takes to open it."
Sometimes the opening of a portal requires a powerful sorcerer and a major cosmic event to align. But, when desperate, two powerful magicians might do the trick.
It seems that there is hope yet and Nightwolf's stone face softens for a moment in what seems relief, only for him to furrow his eyebrows when she says she will understand if he turns back. An amusing concept for Nightwolf and he explains just why in just a moment. "It is too late for me to turn back, sister." He'll have to continue to refer to her like that as long as she doesn't know her name.
"I've forfeit my own destined the day I got these." Says he trailing his fingers across the red tattoos that adorn his dead pupil less eyes. "Now and until the day my soul makes its journey to the great plains, all I can hope for is to save as many souls as I can." He smiles to Ayame a sad smile and although he is aware that is faux paux to touch a stranger in Japan, Nightwolf decides that cultural barriers have no place in a situation where the souls of mortals are in peril and he extends an arm towards the miko's shoulders to assure her there is no doubt in his mind of his decision.
"It is the right thing to do and that is all that matters."
He takes a step back and regards her closely. "I will be ready when you are. Give me his name and hold the portal open for me. I will bring his soul back." Hopefully Daniel didn't have the same inhibitions as Ayame and gave her his full name. Lost souls respond a lot better when you call them out by their full name.
It is as he speaks that she looks at the man closer, eyes narrowing slightly, as if noticing him for the first time. At his arrival, following the transformation from spirit beast to man, she of course memorized his appearance and tucked the information away in her analytical mind. But now, as he makes clear his intent to not only join her in a very risky ritual, but to put his very existence on the line by venturing into that place where mortals should not tread, she seems to decide he merits even further scrutiny.
Her eyes meet his, searching the red markings to be found there, evaluating the pupils orbs that look back at her. She evaluates his trappings and posture more closely as if judging his level of trustworthiness in this high-stakes venture she has proposed in this moonlit hour.
"The story of your sacrifice intrigues me," the priestess muses softly.
"But now is not the time. Knowing that you will do this without reservation is enough for me to trust your resolve."
She looks away at his request. "He never gave his name." she states simply before falling quiet. Is that it then? Is the already formidable task even more unlikely? "But he did say he was a practitioner of Todohryuu Kobojutsu. And that he had ties with Interpol." She exhales softly as she drops down to one knee on the ash covered hill. "It took some digging around, but it seems his name is Daniel Little." she finishes explaining.
From her right sleeve she retrieves a white bundle of cloth that she unfurls even as she places it down the ash, revealing a number of small candles of various colors and sizes and a small stack of parchments. The cloth itself appears plain enough, serving as no more than a surface to work with. But the parchments are covered with all number of intricate runes. They appear to feature characters of Japanese, Egyptian, and some runes belonging to the language of magic itself.
From her left sleeve she draws the bundle she showed earlier and places it down atop the cloth quickly then pulling her hand back as if eagerly letting go of something hot.
"I have spent the last three days studying what I could concerning this topic. I believe we will only have one shot. Already, these reagents," she moves her hand near the bundled, sealed linens without touching them again, "Are becoming inert. One more attempt is all their link will likely last."
She settles down her other knee, now kneeling in the ash, paying no heed to the soot she has to sit in now. Her hands go to the candles. "I intend to burn the linen in this final attempt. I believe the infusion will enhance the connection and ease the way to opening the door... but it also means that the time I can keep it open will be limited by the duration of the fire. I will try to pace it as best I can. If you have any further advice, Shaman..."
She frowns. She doesn't even ask her parents, her dedicated trainers in all she knows of such things, for advice. Yet here she asks this man, this stranger from another land? Ayame exhales softly.
"It would not be ill recieved."
"Indeed, it is not." Nightwolf says abruptly to Ayane's musing to his nature. While he is not reluctant to talk about his origins, time is of the essence in this situation, and he cannot waste it speaking about himself. There will be other times to reminiscent with the Eastern Demon Hunter, should he ever see her again.. and if he happens to survive this trip.
The shaman crosses his muscled arms across his chest and lets Ayame study his face as she pleases. He is the foreigner here and he is willing to be put to scrutiny if it merits earning the trust of the locals. He would have done the same with any other demon hunter that walked into his lands and seemed overly anxious to help. Nightwolf does not blame the woman at all for wondering if this could be a trick. The shaman stares back with his impassive white eyes and patiently waits until Ayame accepts his assistance and unfurls the magical items they will need for the ritual.
He nods with eyes closed, glad to have her trust now.
The Sin Eater does furrow his eyebrows when Ayame implies she might not know the man's name. That could indeed make things doubly difficult. Even if he would still do it, wandering the underworld without knowing anything about the man he's looking for would be greatly complicated. Fortunately Ayame reveals the man's name and Nightwolf can almost be seen giving a sigh of relief. "That is good." He says. "The man might already be lost if he is well in his way to the great plains. Speaking his True Name should be sufficient for him to regain his identity." In the realm of the spiritual, Nightwolf is perfectly aware that knowing someone's full name can give a person great power over them. It may be why he did not ask for Ayame's name, and might also imply that Nightwolf may not be the Sin Eater's real or full name either.
The shaman looks over the shown scrolls with Egytpian, Japanese and Arcana symbols. Quite the complicated spell, it would be challenging even for him, which alludes to the real power of the priestess. Nightwolf is lucky that he found such a powerful ally here, otherwise he could have very likely not completed this task at all.
"We will have to make it count." He says and sits in front of the miko in Lotus Flower position. "As agreed, I can help you with the beginning of the ritual by lending you my power. Once the tear has been open however, you will have to bear the burden as I enter."
The Shaman breaths in deeply, preparing his body to be the vessel of the spirits. In his time spent as the Sin Eater, there have been many that have asked for his advice in many things besides just the supernatural. Nightwolf does appear to have certain wisdom about him. The man smiles very softly when Ayame asks for his input, an odd gesture for his grim face to do for sure.
"There is nothing I can tell you that you don't already know." Nightwolf seems to posses enough wisdom to recognize when someone already knows what to do.
Perhaps his answer is the best that could possibly be given here. The two are definitely playing with fire in more ways than one. Their souls are at risk - even if she will not be making the journey at her side, the young spiritualist will have her own health on the line in maintaining the rift for as long as possible. To say he trusts in her knowledge earns him a quiet glance, a moment of silent reflection, and then a slight nod. If he is confident in her ability, what room is there for her to harbor even the slightest doubt?
She leans forward, delicately reaching for each candle, removing it from the cloth and driving it down into the carpet of ash around them to keep them upright. One after another she places without hesitation, having precalculated every angle, every vector necessary for this ritual to have any chance of success.
"There is one last thing you must know."
The pattern of the candles slowly becomes clear as as series of ever shrinking stars are formed by their placement. Those in the smallest star at the center are made of black wax, while the middle star is grey, and the outer star is formed by white candles.
"If, for even a moment, it becomes clear that something besides you or Agent Little are coming through the opening to break into this world..."
He probably already knows what she is going to say, but it must be spoken all the same. Let there be no doubt between them of the perils he is about to undertake.
"I will close the rift immediately."
She glances up at him at that declaration, perhaps searching the wiseman's visage for any flinch, any sign of second thoughts or hesitation.
Only when satisfied will she reach down and trace her finger lightly over each candle wick. One after another, they spark to life, igniting into fires of all manner of colors. Blue, red, orange, gold, yellow, violets, greens.
Only when all are lit does the symbol in the colors become apparent - written in flame is the kanji for the underworld itself.
Ayame inhales then exhales, leaning back on her feet, closing her eyes for a moment of mental forification.
Opening her eyes again, the girl reaches down to the stack of rune-laden parchments. Each symbol has been intricately crafted - she spared no haste in getting the drawings exactly right down to every fine line, every brush stroke.
"It is time."
Reaching down, she moves the wrapped linens to the center of the three stars laid out in the placed candles. Pausing for a moment to brace herself, she extends her finger, drawing free the knot in the ribbon keeping the wrapping sealed. The energy released is palable even if unseen, a dark essence easily felt by the two spiritualists as the white cloth unfurls and reveals the filthy torn linen from the ancient Tyrant, a handful of pristine grains of sand sprinkled among it.
Eye's widen a little as she looks at the dark artifacts. So simple in appearance, but it is impossible to mistake their danger. Now she will need all the support the foreigner wanderer can provide, both to prop up her own spirit as well as to help brace her against the foul energies about to be put to work for the sake of another.
Carefully, she lifts the first parchment and takes it to one of the white, outermost candles, lowering the tip of it into the fire. Violet flame surges up over the parchment as she then moves to lay it to rest over the linens.
The girl sucks in a breath, reacting to a spike of pain in her mind, but doesn't hesitate to pick up the second parchment, ignite it via the second candle's pale blue flame, then drop it too across the cursed linens, provoking another twitch in her otherwise grim expression.
"Once all the white candles have joined," she manages through gritted teeth as she picks up the third parchment in the stack, "The way will open..." Lighting it and dropping it as well onto the slowly growing pile of colored flames and ash, she continues.
"It will stay open through the burning of the grey. When I start on the black candles, you will feel a pull from within the Underworld... that is your only warning that time is beginning to run short." The fourth one is picked up and moved to the fourth white candle to burn.
Going by her words, in three more candles, the rift, hopefully still lingering where Anakaris tore apart the veil between the worlds, will be open for Nightwolf to fullfill his promise.
Ayame, for her own part, speaks no more words audibly. Perspiration rolls down her cheeks as she moves on to the fourth parchment, whispering a complex, non-repeating incantation beneath her breath, her eyes almost completely closed, allowing her just enough vision to move on to the fifth rune...
Nightwolf answers immediately.
"It is as I would have done."
There is no doubt in his mind, no fear in his heart. Such feelings where shed when Nightwolf took the mantle of the Sin Eater. This is truly a self-sacrificing profession, for even if the one person doing the trip were very dear to the Shaman, he too would have closed the portal lest something from the other side made it here. He would have never forgiven himself if a spectre from the Netherrealm made it to Earthrealm through his actions, and he would not ask something like that of Ayame. The Sin Eater understands the risks, has done so ever since he became what he is. He will bear her no ill will should she judge that the risk is too great.
When Ayame decrees that the ritual is to begin, the Shaman also breathes in a large intake of air to prepare himself. He watches as the candles are lit and though he is not all that well versed in Japanese, he recognizes the kanji for what it really is. The energy it gives out being all too familiar to Nightwolf.
The preparations are completed which was the easy part. Now comes the time to open the rift itself by tapping into the magical artifacts that were used to make the ritual the first time. It is an exercise that can tear the soul and body to pieces if done incorrectly, too many things are against them as this portal is opened as it is. The starts are not aligned, the materials are scarce, and Ayame, powerful as she is, will have her energy far too sapped to maintain the portal open for too long after opening it.
This is why Nightwolf offered his help and he begins chanting as soon as he senses Ayame's spirit wane with that mental pain the artifacts are inflicting upon her. It is a soothing incantation, meant to fortify the spirit rather than give raw power, it will stabilize Ayame's mind enough for her to face the initial energy that is unleashed as the fabric of reality is torn as if it were cloth.
Wiconi mitawa ki el
Anpetu wanji a ke mi qui,
Heon wo pi la eci ci ye,
Micante ki eciya tanhan.."
If Ayame is at all versed with the native cultures of the west, she may identify this language as Lakota rather than the Apache that Nightwolf seems to originate from. A curious bit of information, though irrelevant in the nature of their mission as the chanting should provide sufficient spiritual and mental stabilization to finish the first steps of the ritual without consuming vital energy. Energy that she will need to hold the rift open for Nightwolf.
The Sin Eater's pupil-less eyes open when Ayame speaks, instructing him of further details of the mission. At least he will know when time is running short thanks to the pull of the black candles, which is a lot more than he expected. The Sin Eater nods in understanding, asking no further guidance from Ayame who will need all the energy available to her to maintain the incantation.
Nightwolf takes a few more breaths, feeling the flows of the spirit crackle all around him, his skin tingling with the sensation of something that should not exist appearing right behind him.
The white candles are lit and the swirling portal opens, beckoning to all living souls to enter as it is the twisted nature of such a realm.
Although methodical in his actions, Nightwolf wastes no time. He places his feet on the ground and twists himself to straighten up and spin to face the rift in reality. Steeling himself for what is to come, he takes one final look at the sky before he enters. Thumbs tucked in his belt. Almost casually wandering into the Underworld.
Log created on 23:21:55 11/06/2014 by Ayame, and last modified on 23:16:14 11/08/2014.