World Tree MUSH

  Where most of the World Tree's realms move into autumn, the island of Puerto Rico remains a tropical paradise. It's here that the brave heroes were returned to after they fought their way free of the ghost ship, where there's a town and a local Vine to take them away to realms beyond.

  One of their number has stayed here on this island, though, in a secluded campsite on the lee of the island. It doesn't mean much, but one thing it does mean is that the woman can be spotted in town from time to time, collecting food and supplies for Salome's little group. Today finds her in the main street of town, sifting through tourist trap stalls to try and find something useful. Colourful canopies stretch over the streets, where colourful locals peddle their wares.

  With shade on the street, the woman's left behind her armour and that hat. In concession to the heat she's stripped down to the silk tunic, open at the throat and sleeves rolled up past the elbow, tied at the waist. Her leggings and boots are of course present, but only the mask adorns her head; both the hat and the armour have been left behind somewhere else.

  Right now she's negotiating with a local for what looks like dry goods, and her voice carries a hint of impatience in it. It's a little after dawn this morning, and she's already been going in circles with the elf for a good twenty minutes. Her patience is beginning to wear perilously thin, although it's hard to see it for the mask hiding her face.

    Yesterday was a fairly stressful day for Dante, to say the least. Serrah being kidnapped by vampires has gotten him preoccupied, and right now he desperately needs a drink.

    Sipping on something strawberry flavored, probably with vodka for good measure, the Devil Hunter is hanging out at a bar pretty close to where Lucatiel is shopping, mostly listening to the nearby musicians playing on guitar. Once he recognizes the Knight of Mirrah, Dante starts to pay for his meal before making his way towards her.

    Instead of his typical red coat, Dante's going for a red tank top with a guitar case containing his _MANY_ weapons over his back, lean muscular arms and broad shoulders on display. Looks like he's charging for tickets to this gun show today.

    "Yo." He greets with a wave of his hand, voice carrying over the air as he leans on a foodstand, sizing up Lucatiel as he tries to gauge her expression under that mask. Something tells him there's a reason why she wears it. "Buy you a drink?"

  It isn't normal for locals to wander around armed to the teeth with their weaponry, so in concession to not standing out any more than she already does, Lucatiel left most of her weaponry behind. The only thing she carries with her today is the rapier at her hip. The hilt and the scabbard are bound with a length of red cord, although the artful knotwork is probably designed to quick-release with the pull of a single strand.

  Lucatiel glances to one side atthe sound of a familiar voice, eventually shoving payment at the vendor and stuffing bags of dry goods into a canvas bag slung over her shoulder. It has 'I <3 Puerto Rico' lettered over it with some tropical leaves, and it obviously comes from one of the tourist shacks. That's okay. It does what it needs to. Beneath it, there are clear shadows where linen bandaging binds one shoulder; there are old spots of blood on it. Looks like she didn't get away from the throng unscathed after all, or something else has happened since then.

  The woman rests one arm on the strap. The mask doesn't give any real hints: The slots are cut in such a way that the face beneath can't be seen, while the viewer can still see the outside world with relatively little hindrance. Anyway, she's never been spotted without it. She's probably pretty well versed in how to work around any limits to her field of view.

  It tilts very slightly as she's hailed so casually, something almost quizzical in the subtle movement.

  ...And from beneath it leaks a slow, exasperated sigh.

  "Very well. I see no reason why not." The mask tilts again, this time enough to indicate Lucatiel is looking directly at Dante. "Lead the way." After all, only an idiot turns down free drinks.

    The locals generally seem to give Dante a wide berth, that's fine by him long as they don't turn him away when he's got cash. Regardless, it keeps people out of his way, especially when he's busy chatting someone up.

    Only a bloody idiot turns down a free drink, indeed. Dante cants his head towards the bar he'd just left, before leading Lucatiel on. "How's our little mermaid doing?" He asks, still casual as he grabs a seat at the bar, flagging down the person serving drinks. "She's drinkin' on my tab today. Give her what she wants." He says to the bartender, jerking a thumb to Lucatiel. "And hell, gimme a beer while you're at it."

    Once drinks are ordered, Dante sips his beverage. It's weird, Lucatiel swore to protect that mermaid kid with her life. He's also a little curious about why Salome's so altruistic suddenly. Her motives tend to be much more...selfish.

  At the question about the mermaid, the mask tilts incrementally. Without that wide-brimmed hat to shade it, the sun catches the edges of the mask, gleaming. In better light it's clear the accessory is crafted to the highest standards: All of her gear is, if slightly careworn.

  There's no immediate answer to the question, even as she slides into a chair in a single liquid movement. Definitely a warrior, although he's seen evidence of that firsthand.

  "I will not tell you where she is, if that is the information what you seek." Lucatiel shakes her head, blonde braid trailing the movement. "Well enough. That is all you need know for the time being."

  Callused hands rest on the top of the bar as she considers her options, and asides her order to the waitstaff. Whisky. Straight.

  Once the glass is set before her, she twists it, tilting it along its axis to roll along the counter's surface. Not a drop is spilled, though.

  Just how is she planning on taking a drink with that mask on, anyway?

    "I mean, fair enough." Dante says. He knows better than to bitch about the terms of a contract when it comes to protecting someone, especially kids. "So I guess my next question is when do we get to go kill the guys who did this to her?" He says coldly.

    The poor bartender seems to stare in befuddlement as Lucatiel seems to just toy with her whiskey. "W-waitaminute, missy. How you goin' drink that with that mask on, if ya don't mind me askin'?"

    "Very carefully, my friend." Dante grins cheekily as he takes a sip of beer. "Lady's gotta have her secrets, doesn't she?"

  Lucatiel continues to turn the glass this way and that in callused, scarred fingers. It's hard to say whether she's listening to something at any given time, with the mask concealing her features. There's no feedback on where her attention actually goes. Slight movements suggest she's definitely paying attention, though, listening to both Dante and the bartender.

  "I am told the timing will be correct this Tuesday to come." That's a simple enough answer, given without hesitation. The whiskey glass is taken up, and the mask nudged sideways by her wrist -- not far enough to see her face, and only far enough to confirm that the line of her jaw and mouth appear to be uninterestingly normal.

  The glass is set back down. "I will be there, as well. The terms of my contract have changed; it includes now the eradication of that individual.

  The mask turns up, to stare flatly at the bartender.

  "And I am not a 'missy.'" Her eyes aren't visible, but perhaps the man might sense that he's being stared at, with great intensity. She sounds older than a 'missy,' that much is for sure. Mid-thirties, maybe. "Mind your business."

  Lucatiel turns to face Dante again. "I do not believe we have been formally introduced. What is your stake in all of this...?"

    The wrinkly old bartender just kind of shrugs, and doesn't even need to be told to pour Dante another beer when the white haired man slides over his glass. The poor barkeep seems terrified now, considering he's close to pissing off a masked lady with a sword and all.

    "Well, make sure to double-tap just in case. I might not be there, I might be. I've got a lotta irons in the fire, so to speak." Dante says, before he offers out a hand for Lucatiel to shake.

    "Name's Dante, son of Sparda. I'm a mercenary, mostly hunt demons like daddy did when I'm not doin' other stuff across the Tree."

  All the modern slang is met with stillness. Lucatiel doesn't so much as tilt her head at the unfamiliar phrasing, as though she were silently picking it apart and searching for her own meaning. At length she does tilt her head, very slightly, as though she were fixing that flat look on the demon hunter.

  Right. Moving along from cutesy modern slang. The knight lifts her head just slightly, enough to suggest she's looking directly at Dante.

  "Then I will not count on your assistance." Lucatiel takes another sip of her drink, mindful not to move the mask any further than it needs to. "Your assistance would be appreciated, albeit I do not think it will be needed." Salome is too passionate about this not to throw inordinate amounts of resources at this problem. She wants that Sea Witch dead. Lucatiel has every inclination to believe Salome will make sure that's so. "There will be others."

  She sets her glass aside. "My name is Lucatiel. I hail from Mirrah, a land of knights. Even among knights, though, the Elite Knights are recognised and feared." Scarred fingers fold over the countertop, and she seems to be reasonably calm, for the moment. If the whisky's had any effect on her, it doesn't manifest in her speech. Her words are still confident and well-spoken. "I search for my brother, Aslatiel, though I have not yet found him. In the meantime, my skills as a warrior of Mirrah are available for hire."

    One would think there'd be an equivalent to double-tap in the old-timey sense. In any case, Dante shrugs. "I got another friend who needs help, her name's Serrah...got nabbed by a vampire, so I've been sniffing about looking for her since." He just explains.

    He does blink a little, at the mention of Lucatiel's brother. "Huh, you too? My brother keeps disappearing on me, I oughta put a bell on him or something so I can keep track. Vergil's always been runnin' off, uusally looking for power or just tripping and falling into Hell." He doesn't sound like he's joking, though the way Dante phrases 'POWAH' does seem pretty exaggerated.

    "We were separated as kids. After mom and dad died, we were on our own, and got separated for a long time. I didn't find him until he summoned a huge tower out of the Earth to summon up a portal to the demon world...had to knock a little sense into him, thought he disappeared again, then he comes back outta nowhere acting like he didn't try and cause the apocalypse all buddy buddy."

    Dante knocks back his drink. "Guess I got mixed feelings about Vergil..."

  "Vampire." The mask tilts very slightly to one side, and while there isn't much in the way of recognition at that term, the implications are still clear enough to understand. It's something that probably isn't good and likely warrants being hunted down like an animal, just to go by tone and context. "I see."

  In other words, it's something that doesn't involve her. It could involve her, for the right kind of pay, but she's already under contract. A knight Lucatiel may be, but she isn't chivalrous enough to go looking for more trouble.

  "Are you always so familiar with strangers you have only barely met, Dante of Sparda?" Lucatiel's comment is dry. "You do not know my story, nor my brother's. Such an outlook may land you into trouble; you may consider playing your cards more closely to your vest."

  "To answer your question, no. Not 'too.' It was not like Aslatiel to shirk what he considered his responsibilities, nor would he cheapen his oath of loyalty to the lord we swore fealty to." One hand rises to rub at her jaw, slipping easily beneath the mask. "I have some idea of what hastens his steps, but it has made for difficult tracking."

  The story about Vergil is listened to with the same flatness as anything else.

  Eventually, she shrugs. "I suppose you'll come to your own conclusions, in time. In the meantime, if you should hear word of any other knights of Mirrah travelling the World Tree, I should appreciate the information. I should also exercise caution if you believe you have seen him. He may not... no, he is almost assuredly not himself. He may react aggressively -- and if that is the case, you would best heed that his skills are far greater than mine." The hand drops to wrap around the glass. "You seem a cocky sort, but I would take that to heart, were I you."

    Dante just shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe I get lonely and just wanna hang out." He says with a cheeky expression on his face, that sort of 'I'm only half-joking, I really do tend to be on my own.'

    "All I'm sayin' is, I know how it is to have a brother run off like that. Vergil's not any easier to find, trust me." He says with a little defensiveness in his tone. "If I do see anything, I'll try and track ya down. You got a postbox or somethin'?"

    Dante chuckles, "I'll keep that in mind, but I'm no slouch myself. I'm a big boy, don't need to worry about little old me." The devil hunter winks, sipping his beer once more.

  "I care not whether you suffer from loneliness or not." Lucatiel waves aside the subject with a careless flick of a hand, before nudging the mask aside for another drink. She's had quite a bit of whisky so far, but her voice is still even. "I spend most of my days and nights alone. It is no particular hindrance to me."

  Postbox? She only shakes her head. "I do not, and there is no clear path back to the world from which I have left. For the time being, I have been staying in this region." Unhappily. The tropics don't agree with her. "Ask the locals, and you should have no trouble finding me." Most of the people here don't wander around wearing a hot, stuffy, metallic mask over their head.

  She's also silent in the face of his winking and being 'cute.' Unimpressed, or simply uncaring; probably both. The glass is drained and left on the counter, the knight pushing herself to her feet with surprising steadiness.

  "I will be in touch... perhaps. Farewell, Dante of Sparda."

  With that, she'll make her way back out to her original business, if he doesn't choose to follow or speak up to stop her.

    Dante just nods, not really minding Lucatiel's brusque manner too much. Lady (the one nicknamed Lady, not Lucatiel) wasn't exactly much for small-talk either even after Temin-Ni-Gru. He knows the type.

    "I'll try and be in touch, then. Good luck out there, Lucatiel. Adios." He offers a salute, before paying off the knight of Mirrah's drink.

    For now, he'll just go back to drinking, then. Seems to suit him just fine letting Luca be on with her business for the time being. They'll cross paths again, eventually.