Watchtowers grew on the dusk-painted horizon over Adeluna like spears raised in commemorative testament to the Caneluxian defacto empire's glory. Sebastian approached the city via a jitney skiff owned by a shrewd Egjoran merchant, a heady fume billowing past his lips and through its mismatched sails. Lazily thumbing through the pages of a tattered book as the small boat rocked on the gentle currents, he stood and tucked it away in his coat just before they were to moore. Taking one last drag from his pipe, he then tapped the embered ashes over the side of the hull, emptying them into the foamy tide.
The world had descended into a state of chaos yet again, as it seemed so wanton to do. With his particular talents, Sebastian surmised he might have some use or insight into the nature of the insectoid invaders ravaging people's minds if he were to make his way to the Throat of the Moon. Alas, he also had no doubts that the skittering throng of madness and wrongness would find him immediately upon arrival. Such was the nature of his preternatural ties. Unwilling to put others at risk by, quite frankly, being an alluring lighthouse to these creatures amidst the darkness, the traveling mystic would sit this one out….for now. He could hold his own in some situations, but he was an intellectual and spiritual man above anything else. He could not…would not be relied upon for others' survival, but he could make the world a brighter place, one soul at a time.
"Did ye find her, mister Black?" a well-dressed but gangly young man, anxiously wrenching a hat in his hands inquired as he approached the pair unboarding the ragtag vessel. Sebastian regarded the boy somberly, his eyes appearing to glow as the sunset hues reflecting off the water played into the autumn tones of his gaze. This was his present client.
"To a degree, Hal," Sebastian's deep voice intoned, straining to wobble onto a wavelength of aloof neutrality. "The good news, boyo…she's not yielded the crows a pudding just yet," he mused while nodding to the merchant aside in signal that he could go on his way if he wished. Hal had let out a sigh of relief, yet continued hyperventilating.
"…And the bad?"
Sebastian withdrew the tattered book he had skimmed from his black overcoat, handing it over. "Violet's diary, mangled and left at a scene with a rather singular purpose. If you go through my highlights and footnotes, you'll see quite plainly that hints of her death were a ruse. She's gone ghost, mate. At least in a noble fashion. She admits there that you're a better person than she, who willingly surrounds herself with the worst scum of Basoga, wherein she hails from. She bids the finder not follow."
"I'll pay you double," Hal stated flatly.
Cringing, the detective, clapped the boy on the shoulder. "Don't be swinging for a low blow now. I'm hurting for coin, and closure is important to me, but that's a place I try to steer clear of. Besides, man to man, I will tell you….it's not worth it. Save that coin, and get yourself a pint before the Mermaid closes."
Patrolling guards had stopped to observe the hysterics in the outskirts that had ensued following these statements. They followed as the pair went into the city, only to wander off in disappointed ennui when the argument culminated in a handshake in front of the Winking Mermaid. The older man of the two paused to read some messily scrawled notes before turning on his heel and making his way to the South end of the city.
