Gathering of the Faithful

Sliding gracefully from the shadows comes a man in a black cloak. He pauses at the edge of the bright light, drawing the hood down and throwing the rest back over his shoulders. A once strikingly handsome visage now lies a bit unkempt, the whole of the man standing before you almost faded or washed out. Flat. The clear eyes that regard you betray a hint of something horrific before they move on cataloging the other people and things in the room. Still clearly in his late 20s or early thirties, the legionnaire clutches a lyre in one hand, his other empty. His brand marks him as a member of the Legion of the Watchful Hunter for those who know of such things. A holy symbol of Cadic hangs from his neck. He bows his head in greeting, the motion conveying deep respect and some reference for the place and those assembled.

His voice is steady if quiet when he speaks, “By the grace of the Lord of Shadows do I, Vincens Lerato val’Borda, offer humble greetings.”

Vincens shifts the lyre to his left hand and shakes Haakon’s hand. “No offense was intended.” Once complete, the lyre is transferred back to the right, his left hand twitching slightly. “Are we expecting others?”

Vincens realizes the lyre is back in his right hand and moves it back to his left. “Well met, Decios,” he says, extending his hand. “Water would be nice, thank you.”

Vincens nods in response to Alessia’s query and takes the proffered seat. He takes a moment to compose himself and settle the lyre before plucking the first string. It and the notes that follow are those of the Courtship of Larissa. With it the legionnaire’s demeanor changes. His eyes remain open, but unfocused and his bearing relaxes. It is as if with the heartfelt playing he breathes life and spirit not just into the song but into himself as well. While he plays the seems whole. Whatever lurks behind the window of his clear eyes, gone at least for now. It’s as if the music has summoned from the past a man of presence, of consequence. There is the sense of the striking figure that turned heads and caught the ladies’ eyes. With the last notes hanging in the air, fingers stopped, that presence fades. In the chair it’s just Vincens. Still a bit unkempt, still flat, but perhaps more at ease. The darkness lurking behind his eyes though still for the moment at bay.

Alessia listens to the music apparently caught up in its delightful embrace, her foot taps lightly upon the tile to the cadence. As the song plays on Alessia’s head tilts ever so slightly to let her hair cover her face, when the song plays its final cord she raise’s her hand beneath her flaxen tresses. “It was a remarkable rendition Vincens.” Alessia raises her head to look once more at her companions, brushing back her long hair in the same motion. “May I ask where you learned to play?”

“It indeed sounds like he was a true Child of the Gods. I truly wish I knew more who can pass such peace to those through what is, pardon my presumption, a seemingly simple thing. I truly envy you your music, for though I feel Nier’s passion in me, I cannot say his recreations are particularly inductive of peace and tranquility.”

“Greetings brothers, sisters,” a strong voice emanates from the shadows by a doorway previously unseen. “Pray pardon my eavesdropping. I find it suits my nature to do so from time to time. Welcome all; I’m glad we have begun to gather in one place already. It will save us much time.”

Severus val’Borda steps forward from the secret passage, and it closes seamlessly behind him. Had you not seen it with your own eyes, you could swear there was nothing there.

“We will give our brothers and sisters a little more time to arrive, after which we will begin. We have much to discuss.”

Decios tilts his head when Severus makes his presence known, as if to get a new angle to confirm he is seeing what is in front of him. Then he starts to chuckle.

“Well, this should be memorable.”

“Welcome Severus, good to see you are back in good health.”