Sebastian was no fan of vague requests. It usually meant that one or more of the details were sketchy.
Sprinting at full tilt through dim evening streets of Egjora, he tried to wrap his mind around the details of the note he had received, guardsmen in tow. The city guard, and by proxy the Kophesan had never been overly fond of his presence in their city…but after recent events, this distaste had become outright hostility. Here, he had become a wanted man. He had wanted to leave immediately after the business he had here previously had concluded, but the eloquently-written letter he had gotten concerning the acquisition of one or more hinted rare works piqued his curiosity. Even more curious was the signature - one Viscount Wilmark, a name he had never even heard before.

"Stop!" one of the guardsmen shouted after him, as he attempted to load a crossbow while continuing pursuit. As soon as the sound of the drawstring clicking into the catch echoed down the street, Sebastian focused his energy and intent on the rooftops, looking for a spot of sure footing…
When the guardsman paused and raised the weapon to fire, he had vanished.

The Blink was so fast, that to the naked eye, it could be assumed it was magic…some form of teleportation. It was only a psionic trick, though. The intense manipulation of kinetic energy could propel the body rapidly through space with great precision, and was not that much more difficult to accomplish than moving an external object, or weaving an element.

Panting quietly in and out through his nose, Sebastian crouched low on the darkened balcony to observe his pursuer's confusion.
"I told you he was slippery," said another man to the one who held the crossbow out in front of him still, his reaction not fully set in. "Shouldn't have hesitated to grab him when you had the chance. Come on…I'm sure we'll see him again tonight. Just keep your eyes peeled."

Sebastian watched the guards for a time, and waited several more moments to make sure they did not double back. When he was satisfied he could roam the street freely once more, he stood up, and casually tumbled backwards over the railing of the balcony. He let his body arc into a single flip, while keeping his focus on the spot where he wanted to land, some distance away from the balcony, towards the next intersecting street. Blinking a second time, he appeared again, upright, and resumed walking in one fluid movement after the initial fall. Hastily pulling the letter from his coat pocket, Sebastian wandered over to a nearby oil lamp to make sure he was remembering the correct address. It was not far from where he now stood. Strange, though….he'd always thought that manor to be abandoned.

Finding the place with no more trouble from the vigilant night watchmen, Sebastian rapped soundly upon the front door. His autumn gaze cautiously swept both sides of the street after the knock, making sure he did not draw any attention to himself. The hour was quite late. Not only did he prefer to travel by night in Egjora anyway, for obvious reasons, but the note itself had specified to come at this ungodly hour.
There was no response. Not wanting to call out just yet, he knocked again.

Biting his lip and fidgeting anxiously, Sebastian tried the door. To his surprise, it was unlocked, and swung open soundlessly with ease upon well-oiled hinges. Stepping inside the dark entryway, he quietly shut the door behind him. He could make out a dim light just beyond the front hall, but he hesitated.
"Hello…?" he called out inquiringly. "I'm here about the books! Your courier found me this afternoon."

Many eyes, hidden in dark crevasses throughout the city, watched in silence as Sebastian was chased by the local guards. He takes a bit of time slipping his tail, Wilmark thought, as the pieces of him flew through the alleys of the city, keeping up with the chase. He's fast, however, I shall grant him that. And he seems to know his surroun - the thought was cut short as Sebastian blinked. One moment, he was there, and the next, he wasn't. Even a hunter as skilled as Wilmark required a few seconds of searching to find Sebastian hiding on a balcony. Ah, he knows to use height to stay concealed, and he has a few parlour tricks at the ready. I think he shall serve most excellently. Wilmark decided he had seen enough, and the large flock of bats which currently made up his physical form, flew in silence ahead to the manor.

As he assembled himself into his humanoid form - in the manor's main hall, which was essentially a supersized living room - he went to a cabinet and found himself a bottle, figuring he'd enjoy a drink before his guest arrived. He barely had time to pour into his glass and drain it before a knock came to the door. He didn't reply, as he needed to put the glass away out of sight before addressing his guest. He went into the kitchen and placed the glass there, exiting the room just in time for his guest to enter. Oh, something smells most exquisite, Wilmark thought. Sweetened blood, like the most exclusive of wines. It rather smells like Angela herself has brought a delicacy to my door. He took a deep breath of the air, savouring the smell. However, he soon remembered that the person in question was one he had hired - and Wilmark took a great deal of pride in his honesty in matters of business.

"Mr. Black, I presume," he said, stepping forward to make himself visible. He was clad in the finest dark silks and velvets, his garment a flowing noble's robes and cloak, classical pieces of clothing clearly not keeping up with the rest of Egjoran fashion. He did, however, appear noble in bearing. His skin was white as chalk, and his eyes were red and bloodshot - and his smile was fanged. There could be no doubt that Wilmark was a vampire. "Please, enter. And do make yourself comfortable." He gestured to a finely carved revlining chair by a small table in a more well-lit corner or the room, not far from the wine shelf. Wilmark, ever the lord, gave a smile and went over to said shelf. "Would you like a drink, mr. Black? I can ascertain you, I do not intend to make one out of you… Although you do smell rather alluring." Wilmark pulled an old and somewhat dusty bottle out of the shelf, which a discerning eye might recognize as an older, once famous vintage from Vilapmolan. Wilmark turned to Sebasitan with a grin. "This one contains wine, I assure you," he said, before taking a seat opposite the chair he'd offered Sebastian.

He took some time to carefully open the bottle and let the wine breathe. While he did this, he did not speak, focusing all his attention on the wine. He seemed to take a disproportionate amount of time smelling it, before finally pouring Sebastian a glass. he took great care with the bottle, the way a butler might, but as he poured, he finally deigned to speak. "Vintages such as these require a specific amount of time breathing, and a particular form of pouring, to be properly savoured," he said, smiling coldly. "Whether or not you're a savant, I am not inclined to give my guests anything less than the finest. That would simply not do," he continued, as he finished filling the glass, and left the bottle on the table. "Now. I am afraid none of my servants are present, and I am, regrettably, a terrible cook, or I would have offered you food. Alas, I am afraid I must insist we move on to business."

Wilmark reclined in his chair, and produced a piece of parchment from a pocket inside his robes. He placed the roll of parchment on the table for Sebastian to read or not at his pleasure. "I should inform you that reading that parchment constitues an agreement of nondisclosure," he began, resting his fingers together in a most businesslike fashion. "And on that parchment is a list of texts I would like to acquire, coupled with a reward - in crescents - for each text. Should you choose to accept the assignment, you shall be granted access to a selection of tomes and maps that can point you in the direction of said texts. Any texts not mentioned that you encounter as a result of provided information is to be brough to me first for appraisal, then either purchased by me or left to you to do with as you will. Any texts not touching on the subject of magic is exempt, and you may do with them whatever you desire. Upon accepting the job, you will also be paid an adcanve sum to cover travel expenses, and I will inform the local vampire community that you are off limits as prey."

Wilmark observed Sebastian's body language as he spoke, gagueing the man. He allowed Sebastian some time to consider the offer, before throwing in an afterthought. "I can also arrange for the local guards to be… Dissuaded from further harrassment of your person, to ensure you can deliver my texts without interference." At the time he had written his letter, Wilmark had not been aware of Sebastian's trouble with the guards. he therefore decided to throw in the offer of pacifying the guards as extra incentive - he also did not wish for the texts to be consfiscated if he could help it. And so, Wilmark sat there, awaiting the man's reply to his proposal.

Impotently remaining within the refuge of the darkness in the entry hall a moment, Sebastian immediately took one slow step backward upon witnessing his employer. Sensing his aura was not even necessary. This…Wilmark Rödtann did not even make so much as a half-arsed attempt to hide it by means of glamor or illusion. The man was vampire, plain as day; but also a gentleman of refined manner and taste. He was being civil thus far, but for some added insurance to keep things that way, Sebastian focused on his own aura, scent, and marks, pulling his energy inward and stifling it.

"Please. There is no need for any formalities towards myself, Count Rödtann," Sebastian intoned at last as he, too stepped forward into the light of the main hall, attempting to push some confidence into his voice. His accent rolled over the umlaut-ed 'o' in his host's name in an endearing sort of way. His autumnal gaze gleamed like two small fires in his skull in the dimly-lit living space, and the hematite buttons on his jacket stirred like small pools of mercury as he moved. "Sebastian is just fine. Bash suits me as well. Some simply call me by handle of the nature of the trade, such as 'Seeker', 'Logos', et cetera."

The elephant in the room already addressed, Sebastian went about examining each of the finer details of the man and his home, in turn as he sauntered towards the chair indicated. He traced his fingers thoughtfully along the intricate curves and designs set into the wood frame of the chair as he made his way around it. By touch, he was able to ascertain from the seat's energy signature that no horrendous acts had been performed on any of its previous occupants. His lips involuntarily parted in pause before lowering himself upon the inviting velvety cushions. There were other things he felt from it. Sensuous things, which his loins begged his mind to grasp at further. These pleas were ignored, however. Such details were not necessarily important in painting a picture of his…gracious host.

By all that was sacred…He had spent mere days away from his beloved Oracle, and already, his focus was so easily snagged by details of this nature? He made a mental note to make his way to Bryony soon. Perhaps one of the tasks he would accomplish for this job would lead him to her embrace once more…


"I would love a drink," Sebastian replied as he carefully reclined into his seat, crossing one leg over the other, and leaning his elbow upon one of the rests. "I'm not entirely sure what to say to that, other than thank-you. It is not every day I am assessed by a gourmet."
The choice of the words themselves was a bit of a jibe, but the tone in which they were spoken said more. He obviously had no ill-will towards Wilmark, and was only lightening the mood further. This, as the Viscount was soon to discover, was just his way.
"I cannot say I am a connoisseur of any sort," he admitted freely while watching Wilmark pour the wine. "Unless you count being a consumer of words and letters to be one such variety." He stopped there, and chuckled to himself. "You shan't be ill-spoken of in the village for not having a nice spread upon the table, I assure you. I'm a bit of a forager, myself. It is rare thing if I have a heavy sit-down meal."

Studying Wilmark's eyes cautiously, and not once looking away, Sebastian leaned forward in his chair to grasp the parchment lain before him. He opened it, and his eyes scanned over each and every word quickly. Being adept at diverting his attentions, he was able to read the entirety of what was written, while also intently hearing the terms behind the text. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly at the last portions of the offer.
"It does not surprise me you are aware of my troubles in this city. I must ask…how far does this dissuasion go? Will this include the upper ranks of the Kophesan? Also, what of yourself, and your own clan of vampires, once business has concluded?"
He set the parchment down on the table and picked up the glass of wine, swirling it about and inhaling of it deeply.

Sebastian's smirk became a wide grin. "Suffice to say, I am unfortunately familiar of all the titles you listed. Necromancy…Hemomancy…sprinklings of sex magick…you are one naughty man, Wilmark. Also a man who knows how to run a bargain. There is one text that is most interesting to me. The 'Histoire du Sang'. A novel. This tells me that you were perhaps not always what you are, and have not been for terribly long, as far that word can be stretched for a span of infinite years. It's a bit of a pet text for those that have been turned. I was going to ask how a vampire could remain as well-hidden as yourself in high society, but I think that aptly answers my question."



Barbarically in contrast to his previous careful handling of the wine, Sebastian tilted the glass, downing the crimson liquid in one fell gulp before gingerly replacing the glass upon the table. His expression did not once sour, though he did twitch slightly when the warmth hit him, after some delay. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the parchment, looking it over once more.
"Consider these books yours. I have somewhat of an idea where to acquire more than a few of them already, but let us have a look at those maps and notes."
He rose from his seat, turned on his heel, but halted. "You mentioned a non-disclosure. Am I to sign something?"

Wilmark, after hearing Sebastian’s acceptance of the job, got up from his seat and over to the marble fireplace, picking up a selection of scrolls, maps, and books from the mantelpiece. While much of the documentation was fairly widespread - Sebastian would undoubtedly have seen a number of the pieces before - there were a few documents that would have proven a lot less readily available. In particular, there was a small book named Requiem of the Undying, which was likely to contain a number of snippets of information hitherto undiscovered by the seeker. “This is all the relevant documentation my advisor found in my personal library,” Wilmark said, placing the various items on the table. “For obvious reasons, I cannot let you leave with these, though you will find ink, pen, and paper, that you may copy any relevant information as needed. I noticed you’re more than capable of working while you listen, so allow me to address your inquiries in the meantime,” he said, and sat back down in his chair.
 
“Regarding your trouble with the guards, I can indeed apply some pressure upon the upper echelons of the Kopeshan. I do not bother with the rank-and-file, I have leverage over three key figures in the leadership which allows me to… provide amnesty, one might say, to select people.” Wilmark’s hold of the city guard relied on blackmail information on two of the city guard’s commanders, as well as the threat of physical violence towards the grandchildren of the captain. These were details Wilmark found unnecessary to share. “By virtue of my aristocratic title, I can also claim that fees owed the city of Egjora have been guaranteed for. Do good work for me, and I will see your problems disappear on a more permanent basis, if you’re willing to forgo a small amount of your reward.” Wilmark decided to pour a glass of wine for himself – apparently, undeath did not get in the way of his enjoyment of fine wines. “As for the klansfolk, the same rules apply. Amnesty for as long as you’re on the job, with potential for a more permanent solution.” Wilmark dug into one of the pockets inside his robe and placed a small medallion-like token on the table, red on black, with Wilmark’s crest on it. “This token is proof of your alignment with my House. Do well, and I shall consider letting you keep it after the conclusion of your job.”
 
As Sebastian talked about the texts he was looking for, Wilmark twitched. He pursed his lips into a frown as Sebastian talked about the nature of the texts. “Whether or not I was recently turned is frankly none of your concern. And I would prefer that you do not make untoward assumptions about neither my family nor myself. Suffice to say I have been a vampire for longer than most mortals have existed, and that I have lived longer than any ordinary man. Now, if you choose to stick your nose in business it does not belong, I will not be inclined to stay cordial for long, do you understand?” Wilmark glared coldly at Sebastian, before taking a deep breath through his nose and closing his eyes. “I commend you on your eye and deductive skills, however. You are not incorrect. However, do not presume to talk about my gift, or my family, again. I hope we understand each other.” He leant back in his chair, his eyes burning with disapproval.
 
When Sebastian mentioned signing anything, Wilmark took another deep breath and steadied his temper. “Your tendency for assumptions aside, you have a reputation. Give me your word, and I shall consider that sufficient. I put little stock in written word anyway, and I would rather not leave a paper trail regarding my acquisition of these texts, as I am certain you can appreciate. I am also certain you can appreciate the inherent risk of double-crossing a vampire lord.” Wilmark let the eloquent threat hang in the air for just a moment, before getting up from his seat. “Now. Unless you had any further inquiries, I suggest you get moving. I must get back home before daybreak, as the sun is not… doing my skin any favours, as you will no doubt understand.” Wilmark was clearly keen to see Sebastian leave, even though dawn was still a few hours away. The implication was fairly obvious, but the vampire saw no need to elaborate – particularly not after his rant about assumptions.

There was an abundance of materials laid out before Sebastian, and his eyes traveled over each thing, seemingly sizing up their usefulness before he took any physical action. One particular map caught his eye, that was associated with Requiem of the Undying. It contained a cornucopia of neatly-organized notes, and would aid in the discovery of a couple of volumes he did not currently have any leads on, regarding necromancy. The drawings and notes were very important, as was the map in its entirety. He noticed that the notes were not written by Wilmark's own hand, for he would have recognized that penmanship from the letter he received. This handwriting was very small and uniform, allowing a large amount of information to fill a page, while still being legible. It was a stark contrast to Wilmark's style; while elegant, it also contained rough strokes and swooping, invasive letter tails, obviously denoting some measure of narcissism and aggression of character. He kept this analysis to himself.

Copying all relevant information on this particular document by hand would take far too long. Sebastian continued to listen to the Viscount as he rummaged in his coat pockets, producing a vial of an opaque, semi-viscous grey liquid. Uncorking the vial, he also located a small fine-bristled brush with which to apply the liquid. "The process I am going to perform will not harm the document in any way, but I suggest that you stand back, and not touch it for several moments following. I'm not sure what all this contains, but I know that silver nitrate was included in its alchemical makeup."
Taking the brush gingerly between his thumb and forefinger, he dipped it into the vial, and with a steady hand, lightly coated the areas of text and illustration. Then, he took one of the supplied pieces of blank parchment provided to him, and laid it over the top, pressing down with his palms evenly. He took up a length of charcoal, also provided, and liberally rubbed over the saturated areas of the top sheet of paper. Finally, he stood back from his work, and snapped his fingers over it with focused intent. Very fine control of pyrokinesis that he normally used to light his pipe was used, giving birth a brilliant, but brief white flare upon the paper. In an instant, all of the information he had highlighted had been emblazoned upon the blank parchment. When he lifted and wafted the paper about, it could be plainly seen that the original document appeared untouched.

Satisfied with the result, Sebastian sat down, and studiously went about copying the rest of what he needed by hand.

"Permanent solutions are what I've often found necessary, though they are always far from diplomatic," Sebastian replied calmly whilst his left hand and eyes darted about arduously. The sides of his mouth curled up once again, but his eyes still did not leave his work. This was a private smile, only for himself and his own thoughts. He did not choose to elaborate further on that topic, however. He only listened more, as Wilmark made some grievances known.
So, he really is a bit hot-blooded…Wonder how many more raw nerves there are?
For now, best to tread carefully. Still…he now had grievances of his own.

Sebastian's gaze, at last, was torn from the pages. The private mirth at some unspoken amusement remained in his eyes, though his features had become dangerously placid. "Words are an interesting, medium, I find," he mused to his host. "Written or spoken, I believe they can hold the same power. In the same breath, or stroke of the hand, we, as sentient beings, can forge or destroy relationships. The right words can express our nebulous innermost thoughts and desires. They can raise the dead. With enough potency of voice, they can even move mountains." He paused for effect, letting this sink in a bit. "This being said, I've always found it fascinating how words of any language are mere assemblies of their given alphabets. They are only given meaning by their users, as they are only vehicles of intent. Such simple things, and yet, every person does have certain arrangements that set them off, for one reason or another. If I ever overstep any boundaries, I only ask that the reaction is not taken into the realm of a threat…veiled, or otherwise."

Being a creature of boundless emotion, the lack of tone to Sebastian's voice would be very telling to anyone that knew him well. He showed no signs of agitation or discomfort to Wilmark's rant, but he made the terms of his continued employment quite clear. He also made it clear that he was not afraid, should matters between them become cross. Flight was his response to the city guardsmen only because they had inherently done no wrong. They were only following orders.

Make one false move, and I'll put you down like any other common blood-tainted beast of Kurayo.

Smiling broadly, despite the tense atmosphere, Sebastian gathered his things, and nodded to the Viscount.
"Of course. I have enough to go on here to acquire a large portion of your wish list. I shall return with relevant tomes, to browse at your leisure. You will see that you will not have to doubt the legitimacy of my finds for even a second. I am quite thorough. I shall be sure to write ahead, when I am to return."
With this, he made his way out of the manor and out of Wilmark's hair. The morning sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, giving him visibility in the doorway. Just before the door swung all the way shut, he was gone, blinking immediately to high ground, to avoid any other fiascos.

Wilmark looked with mild interest on the process Sebastian undertook to copy the map. He was not an avid study of alchemy or its derivative sciences, but he understood the basic concept of the procedure. He did understand he shouldn’t touch it, however - chemical reactions aside, silver and vampiric skin didn’t really agree. When the map was finally copied, Wilmark deigned to nod slightly in approval. “Not unimpressive,” he admitted, seeing the near-perfect copy held up before him. “I see you have some tricks of the trade up your sleeve.”

Wilmark looked with mild curiosity as Sebastian elaborated on his view on the power of words. It was plain that the mortal before him wasn’t overly afraid of Wilmark - a fact which tugged further at Wilmark’s temper, though he understood that a squeamish Seeker would have been a terrible idea to begin with. It’s what I get when I hire a professional, I suppose, he thought to himself, and elected not to push the point. He simply nodded as Sebastian confirmed that he had everything he needed. “Very well. Please do write ahead before your return, and I will arrange for customs to wave you through. If there’s anything else of sensitive nature you need to get into Egjora unchecked, I suggest you keep that in mind. Consider it a privilege of employment,” he said, finalizing the agreement.

As Sebastian left, Wilmark closed the door, and locked it. He then dissipated into a flock of bats, leaving the manor by the chimney and flying into the night, in search of prey.


Two months later, the viscount was in his study, poring over some paperwork of political nature. He still wielded the power of a noble, though he now used a proxy - a lip-man, as it were - to handle his political presence. Letters had been signed and services provided and claimed, and Wilmark was just about ready to go into the city proper to handle the klan, when the final letter of the day was to be addressed. It looked to be from a business associate, for it was largely without markings and delivered in an envelope more simple than he was used to for political and personal correspondence. He broke the seal, and pulled out the sheet within.

“Marcus, please make preparations for the hosting of a guest in the manor,” he called out to his butler. The tall, gaunt man entered the room with a stiff posture. “Shall I prepare wines or blood for the guest, my lord?” the man akes, to which Wilmark held up a finger. “Wine. And food as well, this guest is mortal. He shall be arriving on the morrow, the seeker I hired to find my texts,” he elaborated, to which the butler, Marcus, gave a bow and set off to manage the hosting.

This time, at least, I can be a proper host, Wilmark thought. Whatever reservations he had against the young man, Wilmark was a proud man - and the traditions of hospitality and honesty in business were things he held great pride in. He put the stack of letters aside, cleaned his desk, and got up from his chair, his spirits heightened. Soon, I shall possess the knowledge I have sought, he thought to himself, before he left the mansion to take care of the night’s business in the city.

The following evening, Wilmark waited in his manor as he had done before. This time, a proper meal had been set out, and a specific rendezvous time had been requested of Sebastian, to ensure he arrived just as the food was served hot. Wilmark looked at the table with approval. It is no palace feast, but it will suffice as a gesture for a single man, he thought. The table was set with smoked salmon, beef, a casserole of turkey and potatoes prepared in gravy, a salad, an assortment of boiled roots and vegetables, and a collection of cheeses and crackers as well as a few condiments. While Wilmark didn’t require that form of sustenance, he decided he would partake in the meal - even in his vampiric state, the food looked most succulent. He did, however, wait for his guest, as courtesy dictated.

Change within a person is a subtle thing, but can often completely alter how one is perceived without.

It had taken a great while for Sebastian to regain his faculties following events in the Laeto Rain Forest, where his research told him he was sure to find one of the many tomes Viscount Wilmark sought. He had written to Bryony to meet him there, as it was a halfway point between the two of them at the time. The final volume in question, Treatise On the Blood, was thought to be in the tomb of its author, who had passed of old age living as a hermit in Laeto. By all means, he intended for the venture to be relaxing and short. What turned into a project that could have easily be accomplished in a day became several weeks after he had encountered a splinter of the cult who knew of his connections to outer realms. He found no need to share this information with his client, however; it would merely be spoken of as a snag in progress, if it were inquired about.

Sebastian had lost much time, after being both saved and possessed by the entity that haunted him. The more appropriate term now would likely be watched over. He was not sure if the Nameless Thing that dwelt in the void beyond death watched him still, but he at least knew now that its nature was very sympathetic. It was still no doubt very dangerous, but it harbored no ill intent towards him personally. In fact, after its consciousness had left his, he found that it had marked him somehow, granting him some sort of intangible boon to his psionic capabilities…This was not what he was thankful for, though. The creature had saved not only his life, but that of Bryony as well. He had faint memory of Angela's words, telling him to come to the Sundering Gardens within a month. That would be his next destination after checking in with Wilmark.


Arriving in Egjora during the day, Sebastian boldly tested the Viscount's word on hailing him through customs. He recognized the guard captain in the gatehouse, who grudgingly let him pass without a single request or order made to search his belongings. This amnesty, to Sebastian's surprise and pleasure, extended to every part of the city - something he took full advantage of. He decided to hole up at a tavern, since he could now have his presence be openly known of. He decided to burn all of his notes in the commons as he awaited nightfall. Wilmark, nor anyone else did not need to know the processes by which he came across the books he had acquired. Frankly, he did not think Wilmark would be interested in the finer details of the matter anyway.


Sebastian entered the quiet manor as he had before months prior, at the exact specified hour. He found his host awaiting him, this time with a grand feast prepared.
"Top of the evening," Sebastian greeted the vampire lord with a bow of his head. "This was entirely unnecessary, you know. Though the gesture will not go unappreciated. I only regret not forewarning you that my palate is rather particular. I hope the flesh upon the table will not go to waste."

Striding across the main hall, Sebastian carefully lowered his backpack onto an empty chair before lowering into one himself. "You will be pleased to know that I have every text you asked for in my possession. You can either pore through the collection now, or we can save it for the study. Honestly, I did not even realize I was famished until I saw this display…"
Taking up an empty plate, Sebastian helped himself to the boiled roots and tubers, the cheese and crackers, and the various hors d'oeuvre vegetables and fruits he could find.

There was a subtle air of confidence to the Seeker that had not been present the last time the two of them had met. His eyes seemed brighter somehow, and he seemed to carry himself with more strength and finesse. While the energy of his aura and the scent of his blood before had been potent to those sensitive to it, they could positively flood the room now. It was questionable at this point if the signature was even human. He made absolutely no effort to pull it in and mask it as he had before. His encounter in Laeto had easily shifted this scenario from bleeding swimmer in a shark-infested sea, to something akin to a fly buzzing about a venus fly trap, or a pitcher plant. Wilmark no doubt was aware of the unsettling change, so it would remain unmentioned.

"I must thank you for the asylum I was granted today," Sebastian remarked, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other as he idly spread mustard on the crackers he selected. He proceeded to top them with cheese. "A man could get used to not having to evade authorities."