Fooled again. How in the world did she always let these things happen to her? Another vampire, another contract of servitude. Where once she learned and grew in her abilities, her skills, utilizing things she has learned as a mercenary, Mirannda has been demoted to a live-in nanny. A NANNY!! Demoralizing, to say the least.

The longer the phoenix walked through the highlands, the more aggravated she felt. Pent up anger boiled her blood. Damn her insatiable need for danger and thrill. Mirannda longed to run her blade through soft flesh, create rivers of blood, hear the music of terrified screams and death, set the world aflame. Everything seemed to be going her way when a city sprang up in the distance. Perfect.

Destination now in mind, Mirannda marched into town. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to pull out her sword. All around her were children running and laughing, giggling at how the ball bounced and rolled. Women were doing the afternoon chores, going about their daily business without a care or worry about this stranger in their midst. Curiosity, maybe, but they had no idea what dark thoughts she harbored. All they saw was this slender woman of average height with blood red hair bound by a string high on the back of her head, allowing it to cascade down the back of her neck to just past the shoulders. pale blue eyes. Black pants, black leather boots, and a teal long sleeved shirt hid much of her skin, with a single sword sheathed at her side, warning most that she was not to be trifled with even unarmored.

Some knew Dalanesca as the Reaper, while some knew her as the Siren. Few had experienced both sides of the goddess and lived to tell about it - usually, the demeanor of a person affected which version, if one were to refer to it as such, of the goddess would appear. This particular day, however, she was exhibiting none of them - she had been pent up in her realm for far too long, finding no reason to appear at the surface, and had grown bored. With a bit of a devious streak, she had decided to head to the mortal plane and make sport for herself.

Tonight, sport had shown itself in the form of a lecherous father of three in the Highlands.

As a way to unleash her pent up rage, Dalanesca would visit the mortal plane from time to time to execute punishment on a deserving party. She listened to the whispers of the souls who came to the underworld, choosing her victims from this method. There was mention of a father who paid far too much attention to his daughters after his wife had caught the plague and passed on. The eldest daughter had just come of age and would be able to easily care for the other two when their father seemingly disappeared.

It was an easy enough task - the man had abandoned his daughters and gone to the local pub where he had drunk his fill. Dalanesca was able to sense the dark and wrongful desires the moment she had entered the establishment. She made her way to the barstool next to the man, taking a seat and twisting her body to face him. Donning the apparel of a common, yet well off, prostitute. Her ample bosom sought to escape the tight confines of the corset she wore, her skirts parted enough to tempt the man with the milky flesh of her thigh. A bit of sweet talk and some silver on the counter and the two were off to a room above the tavern.

The moment the door closed, Dalanesca pinned the man against the wall, her lips seeking out his ear. She ran them across his earlobe, and just as he let out a sound of anticipated pleasure, her fingers found their way through his clothing and into his chest cavity, where she gripped his heart as it still pumped blood through his body. He let out a gasp of anguish as Dalanesca proceeded to tell him just who she was and what she was doing, what she was punishing him for, before she ripped his heart from his chest, dropping it on the floor just as his corpse slumped over. She leaned down rather swiftly and wiped the blood from her hand on his clothing. With a wave of her hand, a dark cloak appeared around her and she secured it over her shoulders without covering her head, before leaving the room and exiting the pub.

Within moments of stepping out into the mid-afternoon sun, Dalanesca could sense something out of place nearby. Focusing her energy, Dalanesca honed in on where the feeling was coming from, and her eyes fell upon a woman, not much different in height than she. The feeling was emanating from her, and at once Dalanesca knew her for what she was - an abomination, by terms of the Underworld. A phoenix. Something that died and came back over and over again - exactly the opposite of Dalanesca’s sphere and what she stood for - and this intrigued her.

Her eyes fell to the sword at the woman’s side, and for a split second she thought better of saying anything - but always one to cause a scene, Dalanesca used her divine speed and suddenly appeared in front of her. ”My, my… aren’t you an interesting creature,” she said, her voice loud enough that only the red-headed woman could hear her. ”Defying Death herself,” she continued, and made a little show of applauding her, almost as if she were trying to get a reaction out of her. The goddess had no intention of harming the phoenix, unless she gave her reason - but she always found it curious how they were able to defy the laws of Death and continue to reincarnate.

Several things happened almost simultaneously, if not consecutively. First, the startled thought of 'Fenehdis!’ as she stumbled backward. Second was the raising of her guard, partially drawing her sword. Recovering her equilibrium, Mirannda took in the newcomer, and her outward show with a frown. From the looks of it, this woman with her dark locks and icy blue eyes was hiding something under that cloak, and the phoenix wasn't going to be caught unawares again. Metal slid against scabbard as the sword was returned to its idle position.

It was obvious this stranger was fishing for a reaction, which was something she had personal experience with. Whoever this woman was, she was not sure she wanted to tangle with her. ”What would you know of it?” came an accusatory question. Yet there were sensations that were not abating. Her heart still raced, caught between fight or flight, constantly pushed and pulled simultaneously. Mirannda was caught, red minded so to speak, debating to end several lives for the mere sake of killing, and should perhaps just return to Celeste… And live in shame.

No, there was something else here, a scent that should not be. Tinges of smoke, and the sharp tang of copper emanated from this woman. The mother flame of life whispered warnings to the phoenix. Flee, escape, live to fight another day, regardless that she was nonthreatening. Yet the shadows reached for the stranger. Darkness swallows all, yet accepts few to walk through it unhindered. Shadow-walker, sister, mistress. Mirannda was in a perplexing constant state of war within herself. Slowly, a mischievous smile spread across her lips as she said in an equally low voice. ”Perfume and blood fail to mask smoke and shadow. Who are you to me, stranger?”

A soft, yet inexplicably dark chuckle escaped Dalanesca’s ruby-painted lips. ”What would I know of it?” she asked, mirroring the question that was asked of her. Her eyes had narrowed slightly but the smile still played on her lips as she analyzed the crimson-haired woman before her. Not once did the goddess feel threatened by the now-sheathed weapon. ”I know much more of it than your mind, interesting as it appears to be, could possibly fathom,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper, as though she were revealing long forgotten secrets.

Dalanesca’s own smile spread as the woman before her seemed to smile as well, a hint of mischief to her expression. ”Correct you may be, but who is to say that I was making any attempt to mask the darkness surrounding me?” she asked, taking a slow and unthreatening step towards the woman. ”The blood is but a necessary consequence of the… work I found myself doing today,” she began, though she knew no explanation was necessarily expected. ”The perfume, now that you mention it, might be a bit excessive - but what whore is complete without a disgusting amount of rouge and perfume?” she concluded, finalizing the question with a sharp laugh.

She placed her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg. Her expression switching to something rather contemplative. ”Who am I to you?” she said with a sigh, repeating her question once again. ”Who I am is someone, who on the principal of the balance of nature, should be killing you rather than speaking to you,” she said. Before the woman could interject, she held her hand up to stop her from speaking. ”Yes, I know, you just come right back to life when you die… but I assure you, I have the ability to stop that from happening,” she said, smirking slightly. ”However, you’re far too interesting to me, having never met one of your kind before, phoenix,” she said, confirming the fact that she was aware of who stood before her. She stepped closer to her, extending a hand in a sense of formality. ”Dalanesca, the Reaper, the Siren, whatever title you prefer,” she said, clearly with no love for the theatrics and titular names. ”And what namesake has been given to an interesting creature such as yourself, and what is it that you’re doing here in town, armed to the teeth?”

Allowing time for the woman’s reaction, Dalanesca stood idly by with her hand extended. Were the woman to run, she wouldn’t pursue her, not right away at least… but she was certainly hopeful that she would think twice about fleeing and continue the conversation that had started in such a strange aspect.

Whoever this woman was, Mirannda liked the coy reply, knowing the woman did not require the phoenix any explanation. She stood her ground as distance closed, refusing to show any more signs of weakness. Ideas began to swirl as to who would kill rather than speak, to a magical regenerating creature no less. To make things more interesting, this stranger knew!

Moreover, the mercenary believed her. Mind racing, she was almost confident in the pegging of an identity upon the supposed whore. Mirannda quirked an eyebrow while regarding the offer of formality. None other than the goddess of death stood before her. It made sense why the flame of life feared her and the shadows clung. Where one powerful being promised torture, it appeared this one desired a chat, someone to talk to. Of course, the phoenix knew there was ulterior motives behind even the simplest conversations.

Without further hesitation, Mirannda took the extended hand, firm and precise from years of contracts signed, deals agreed upon, and business concluded. ”Well met, Lady Dalanesca,” she greeted in a friendly, yet serious tone. ”I have taken many names or titles, and though you may call me anything you desire, Mirannda Sinopa is my chosen mantle.” Introductions made, now came the harder topics. The goddess had wasted no time cutting to the chase. She had been honest with Mirannda, so the phoenix would return the favor in kind.

”I have found myself “gifted” into servitude one more. This time, I am naught but a glorified nanny. My skills go to waste, and…” she trailed off. Why exactly did she want to do this again? Merely to release anger and frustrations at her current situation? Inexplicably, Mirannda almost felt ashamed, not for the thought of murder, but the senselessness behind it. ”Danger thrills me. I year to hear their screams, just because I can do it.” Maybe sending Dalanesca souls was her way of trying to make up for the phoenix gift of reincarnation? ”Tell me, how would you react if I slaughtered this village?”

Dalanesca had to admit to herself, she was surprised at the woman’s reaction. When she grasped her hand, she had half expected her to feel weak and feeble, but there was a strength to the woman that she had not expected. ”Mirannda, is it?” she repeated, tilting her head slightly to one side and offering her half a smile. ”Lovely name,” she added, before the pair had broken the grasp between their hands. It was rather pleasant not to have her true identity sending someone running off into the fog, but then again, a phoenix would certainly have a different relationship with Death than most.

The goddess listened intently as Mirannda spoke to her of being in servitude again, and she immediately found herself even further intrigued. ”I would ask what exactly being a ‘glorified nanny’ consisted of, but I’m not entirely sure I want to know,” she said, grimacing slightly. Momentarily, her thoughts drifted back to the time that she had ‘killed’ Angela Rose - unintentionally, of course - and her sister goddess had been brought back as a small child. As a form of punishment, Dalanesca had to help raise her until she quickly aged back to her normal state. She shook the memory off quickly before turning her attention fully back to her new acquaintance.

”You preach to the choir, child,” she said as the phoenix spoke of danger and its thrills, along with the desires she so often held. ”In my time before my ascension, I was a contract killer, an assassin if you will but I hold a certain distaste for that word.” She paused for a moment, shifting so that her weight was on one leg and her hands came to rest on her hips. ”So, I must be frank. If you were to murder a town of innocents, I’d have to be upset. Now, if you were to visit… Vilpamolan, for example, and slaughtered that town? I’d be apt to join you. I may reign over Death, but I am not a fan of needless killing of innocents… but I understand the need to kill,” she said, her eyes locking with those of Mirannda.

Dalanesca grew silent for a moment, before a dark grin spread across her lips, her eyes still locked onto her new acquaintance. She reached down, retrieving a flask from a garter that was hidden beneath her skirt. After unscrewing the cap, she took a long drink. It was not the special brew that she normally received from Angela, but just a stronger whiskey rather indigenous to the Highland area. She offered the flask to Mirannda while speaking again. ”It’s not the whole town… but would you like to make a few house calls with me this evening?” she asked, her eyes flashing red for but a split second.

Mirannda wrinkled her nose as Dalanesca grimaced. Cater to Celeste’s whim, watch over the child, and throw eye daggers at Nemesis. But maybe she and the goddess shared more in common than either of them knew. She had worked hard to become a mercenary of some renown, became an apostate, then a spy. Of course, along with being a spy, Mirannda was in her second term of enslavement, and led a complex life. A high member of a guild, using old contacts with a new face, and an assassin of sorts when ‘he’ demanded it, spying on everyone simultaneously.

Dalenesca presented the phoenix with her opinions of her question. Then her heart quivered with excitement as the goddess smiled, suggesting dark thoughts lurking deep within. A flask was produced, and Mirannda’s mind naturally began to race with possibilities. The goddess was immortal, and possibly immune to poisons. But she knew what Mirannda was, the pointlessness of killing her in such a novice way. No, if Dalenesca wanted her dead, poison would not be her chosen weapon.

As her mind made the conclusion, she reached out and grasped the offered flask. Tilting her head back, she took an equally long drink before handing it back. ”Good stuff.” The question of wanting to join the goddess in a murder spree was not given a second thought. For once, she had the chance to see a god at work, to kill alongside her, and maybe learn a new trick or two. Mirannda gave a dark grin. ”You make offers too good to pass up. My blade is at your disposal, Dalenesca.”

This might be the most fortuitous night for the phoenix. Align with this goddess, and Sin will never be a problem for her ever again.

A smirk crossed Dalanesca’s face, coupled with a stifled laugh as Mirannda commented on the quality of the liquor she had offered to her. The smirk widened and darkened as her proposition was accepted. “Excellent,” she said, pushing her skirt aside once more and securing the flask back into its hiding place in her garter. She let the garment fall back into place, eyeing Mirannda with interest for a few moments before speaking once again.

”Don’t I know it,” she said rather darkly. A strange light had come over her face - a light brought on by the prospect of the ‘fun’ that the two were about to go out and have. ”There’s a slight catch to these house calls,” she said, sauntering towards Mirannda. She circled to stand behind the phoenix, placing a hand on each of her shoulders and leaning so that she was speaking into her ear. ”By all means, your blade will be necessary, but tonight will need something a bit more, including some rather… loose morals,” she said, giving Mirannda’s shoulders a squeeze.

She dropped her hands and circled back around so she was facing her. Her hands raised to her hips, and she shifted her weight to one side. ”You’ve obviously caught on that these calls end in the death of those I visit - you’re clearly not stupid,” she said, her eyes narrowed slightly. ”That, of course, walks hand in hand with one of the spheres of my domain,” she continued. ”However, as you are aware, I am sure, I encompass two spheres… And the other is so much more fun,” she said, her eyes narrowing even further.

”So tell me, Mirannda,” she said, her lips drawing out each syllable of her name. ”How do you feel about seducing a man to the point where he ultimately thinks he’s going to have his way with you, before driving your blade straight up through his chin into his brain and watching the life drain from his eyes?” she asked, her eyes glittering with malice as she questioned her would-be partner. She hoped to the high heavens that Mirannda had as loose a moral code as she. After all, she was in the market for a new… right-hand woman, so to speak.

An eyebrow quirked at the mention of a catch. What kind of conditions would be set on their planned activities? The condition of their soul? The way of which they kill? Mirannda tried to keep the goddess in her sight as she circled around the phoenix. Excitement ran down her spine as a shiver with the closeness of Dalanesca’s lips to her ear. ”Oh? What do you have in mind?”

Curiosity was high as she waited for the reveal. Often she had heard the citizens of Revaliir talk about certain deities, and their domains. Mirannda quickly scanned her memories. There was the goddess of life and love, the god of chaos and darkness, and several others. But not once had someone paired the goddess of death with anything else. Dalanesca had said Siren, which are creatures who use illusion to draw in people with that which they desire. So the goddess must have the second sphere of influence as Desire! For not being of Revaliir, Mirannda was actually quite proud of her retention of information, and deducing certain things rather quickly.

She drew out Mirannda's name, and the phoenix could not help the growth of her wicked smile. How many times had she been used and discarded, killed and left to be cleaned up by the innkeeper? Okay, just once, but it was one time too many. ”Once upon a time, the honest turned bad. When she became an apostate, it was really bad. And there is no redemption. You, Dalanesca, are a woman after my own heart. Where shall we go first?”

An almost giddy expression overwhelmed Dalanesca’s face, and without another word she looped her arm through Mirannda’s and began to lead the woman off toward the center of the village. To any common passerby, they were merely two women - although dressed somewhat strangely or provocatively for the time of day and where they were. ”Oh, what fun we shall have,” she said, purposefully leaving Mirannda’s last question unanswered.

After the two had walked for some time, Dalanesca stopped and unhooked her arm from that of the phoenix. She moved so she now faced her companion, and her expression darkened somewhat. With a sharp nod her head, she drew Mirannda’s attention to the building they had stopped outside of - it looked to be a rather fine establishment, somewhat resembling a fancier tavern. ”We have arrived at our destination,” she said, a sinister and somewhat devilish tone to her voice. ”This is the Boar’s Head. We may be in a small village, but everywhere that man lives, they must fulfill their… darker desires,” she said, as though she were beginning an explanation. ”As the Siren, those desires fall to my domain, you see… But as the Reaper, I don’t like when the lines get crossed.” Her words were intentionally cryptic.

She took a few more steps towards Mirannda, hardly any distance remaining between the two. ”These men, they bring women here, they torture them, they rape them… they kill them,” she said, an air of disgust to her words. ”Death, torture… sure, it’s what I live for,” she continued. ”When it’s deserved. This… these women do not deserve what these men are doing to them,” she said, her eyes piercing into those of the phoenix, hoping that she understood the line that the goddess spoke of.

Dalanesca’s hands came to rest on Mirannda’s shoulders. ”See? I can deliver justice and punishment with one fell swoop… but I have fun doing it,” she added, giving her a dark wink. ”So, do you still wish to accompany me inside? It’s going to be a bloodbath.” she said, though the smile that had spread across her ruby lips gave way to the idea that she was rather excited about it. ”I need to know that you won’t back down if you come in with me. I can’t have you in my way - no offense,” she added. ”I need to do what needs to be done and if you are going to help, then so be it… but if there is even the chance that you will waiver, stand aside.”