Harbringer

The bell above a door to the quaint pastry shop, simply called Bakery, tinkles softly as the door is held open for Lady Athame. Their cane in the other hand gently taps the ground as they sweep their arm and Azriel’s permanent smirk falls upon her, “After you… M’Lady.”

There’s a returned smirk as Lady Athame glides past Azriel. “Quite the scene we left,” she says, selecting a small table in a quieter corner of the shop. “I appreciate your deference ‘back stage’. I was… in the throes of it all.”

Azriel follows her into the shop, stooping a little so as to not hit their head on the halfling sized ceiling. The quiet table in the corner of the room is also near the fireplace, which easily spreads warmth around the small space. The scent of pastry, sickly sweet, wafts thick in the air.

Azriel gently sits down at the table, their emerald green eyes looking back towards Lady Athame. “I would not dream of interrupting when you looked so content. It is important to soak in such moments of connection with the divine when the opportunity presents itself. Blood rituals of such magnitude do not happen every day after all.”

“True,” Lady Athame says, keeping her voice low and quiet, though there is an unmistakable note of wistfulness. “My only regret was I was not in control.” Her magenta eyes close briefly in annoyance but she brushes it aside with a flick of her grey white hair. “But we sit here and now I am curious,” she rests her left hand on the table, sitting back and crossing her legs in feigned nonchalance, “what did you make of it all?”

Azriel’s smirk twitches upward a little and they take in the movement. They lean back in their chair, setting the cane to one side and crossing one leg over the other hands clasped gently. “I will be honest, I am somewhat disappointed that a number of our companions lost control of themselves so easily. When I came to this plane I expected them all to be heroes in shining armour that slung magnificent spells. The adventurers of this place did beat back the armies of Zariel after all…” They look across, perusing the selection of pastries and catching the eye of the person behind the counter. “I did not expect them to fall prey to enchantments so easily.”

Their green eyes glitter in the fire light as they move back meeting the magenta ones across from them. “You were the exception. When you stepped onto that stage, you had calculated the risk and the reward. You utilised the situation you were put in perfectly and despite unexpected possession, managed to meet your goals. It was…” There is an almost unconscious glow to their eyes as their smirk spreads, revealing a sharp tooth, “marvellous and something I would very much enjoy seeing again.”

Darkness dances in Lady Athame’s eyes at the praise. “Normally such rituals are frowned upon. It is… pleasing to know there is at least one soul in these lands who appreciates such passions.”

With a cursory glance at the pastry selection, Lady Athame orders herself an apple cinnamon pretzel, a pot of spiced herbal tea with milk on the side.

“You seem to know a lot about these people, despite having ‘just arrived’,” she continues. “Was that a falsehood, Azriel? Or is that grin hiding more than you’re telling?” She asks her question lightly, tapping her taloned finger against the wooden table.

Their smirk spreads into a grin showing more of the pearlescent teeth. “My smile hides many things, it is a very useful quality to have. It helps to keep my true thoughts to myself.” They let it reduce back to a smirk again. “Rest assured M’Lady, I am speaking the truth currently. It would not be advantageous to either of our positions for me to attempt to deceive the only person I have met here that appears to be a kindred spirit.”

They place their order of a black coffee and a cinnamon and apple pretzel.

“I have not just arrived,” they continue, “I have been here for a few weeks, observing the various populations. I elected not to participate in adventures until I was more informed.” They motion as though picking at a piece of lint on their exquisite black suit but there is no sign of a flaw in the material. “I am curious to know your reasons for coming to the Dawnlands?”

There is an arched brow from the Lady sitting across from them. “My reasons are my own… but,” she smiles, just a fraction, “I can say what I was told pales in comparison to what I have witnessed so far. I could say more…”

The baker they saved comes over with a tray of their order, placing plates, cups for coffee or tea, a pot of a spiced herbal drink, and all the trimmings down in an almost hurried manner. She gives the briefest of nods before practically darting away.

“As I was saying,” Lady Athame continues, adding milk and honey to her tea and stirring, “I could say more if you would care to share your own reasons for being here.”

Azriel smiles at her pleasantly, “Very well, I would agree to those terms. I came here because it is a place of opportunity. Adventurers in these lands seem to amass power and resources very quickly, some even become semi-deific entities within a matter of years. I have need of both power and resources.” They delicately lift their cup and take a sip of the hot coffee, almost seeming to relish in the taste for a moment before turning their attention back to Athame. “Your turn.”

Her slitted pupils narrow slightly as she tears a piece off of the cinnamon pretzel pastry. “I am on a pilgrimage. Rumours abound across the sea about this place. One such rumour reached our ears of dark workings in these lands. Something that spells and speaks of omens to… kindred spirits.” She draws out the ‘s’ as she raises the piece to her mouth. “Like the ones met in the woods today, perhaps.”

Azriel’s eyes glow even brighter and they gently clap their gloved hands together “How marvellous, and here I was thinking I’d be the only devilish sort around these parts. I was expecting to be surrounded by a bunch of paladins and other boring types but here I sit with a fascinating person who performed a spectacular blood ritual mere hours ago and there are even more sinister forces headed our way. Today has been a successful day.”

Lady Athame raises her tea cup in salute.

They dip their hand into their pocket gently placing one of the gold coins stamped with a harp on the table. “And then there are these. Do you know what these are?”

Lady Athame places her cup back into its saucer. “I have my suspicions but you seem eager to tell me and I am a rapt listener to hear you speak, darling,” she says, filling her cup once more.

Leaning forward, Azriel gently pushes the coin forward on the table. “I am not sure how much interaction you have had with Soul Coins, but the name largely explains what they do. Typically, the coins are made from infernal iron by Mammon and the captured souls of mortals are bound into them. They are very useful for bargaining with devils and power can be drawn from the souls within. These are not Soul Coins, but they are similar. They contain a portion of a soul and so I believe they could prove to be a useful source of power.” They sit back in their chair again, revelling in another sip of coffee and smile gently at Lady Athame. “Perhaps enough to fuel a ritual of our own design.”

A familiar darkness glints in the witch’s eyes. “And what kind of ritual are you looking to do, Azriel?”

It takes no great insight to know she is eager to hear but not so foolish as to throw caution to the wind. At least, not yet. Still, it makes their eyes glow a little deeper green.

“It would not be particularly strategic of me to reveal such deep secrets just yet. But my goals are unlikely to conflict with yours, unless the holy symbol you have tucked away is for one of the so-called good gods.”

“Ah, I see,” the lady sighs, almost disappointed. “Perhaps then, for prudence’s sake, we keep our secrets close to our chests.” Her right hand rests briefly on her bosom where, perhaps, a pendant lies beneath the scale of her dress. “We are, after all, in a land of the mighty and just. Best we work in the shadows.”

Their eyes drift down to Lady Athame’s hand, then back up to meet her gaze. “I do so love being in the shadows though. Too much sunlight is bad for the complexion.” They gently pluck the coin from the table and place it back into the pocket of their jacket. “I believe I shall hold on to my share of these coins for now, they may prove useful.” They take one last sip of their coffee. “It seems I must also go in search of this crown, perhaps you’d be willing to assist? I’d hate for you to miss the opportunity to see me with a new accessory. And of course, should you wish for any assistance I would be more than happy to oblige.”

“You are too kind, Azriel,” the Lady says. “If you do find yourself making use of the coins, do let me know how you fair?” She smiles but there’s an edge to it.

Azriel takes a moment, cocking their head slightly as they assess the smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you M’Lady, I hope we do encounter one another again soon.”

"Oh, the pleasure was all mine, I assure you," she says, smiling.