Sera leaned her back against the door once it was shut behind her. She put all of her weight into it, but not to keep the door shut or Dagan out. No, it was merely a matter of keeping herself standing. Sera did absolutely all she could to avoid crying for the last ten or twenty minutes, and soon she found the tears long since stinging her eyes sliding down her cheeks. Dagan was gone by then. Long gone, probably. And Nike--he was upstairs. He probably wasn't coming down for awhile. Sera slid down the frame until she sat upon the floor. All she could do then was bring her knees to her chest, bury her face into her arms, and let the tears flow.





In the darkness, two men conversed: a kneeling man and a sitting man. In the darkness, they were little more than silhouettes. A preference.

"And that is all to report?" asked the sitting man, his voice deep, booming, commanding, and yet bordering somewhere between paternal and . . . regal.

"Yes," replied the kneeling one.

"Then they have failed. Seras and Nike--they left, yet all they had to return with were vices. There is more to that place, and they wasted all of our time."

"Yes."

"They were already too . . . experienced . . . before they left."

"He feels as if we should continue the investigation."

"As do I."

There was a long pause.

The sitting man continued: "Find more . . . capable . . . agents. For our purposes, this project must see completion."

"Yes, my Liege."

It had been a while since he returned to his home and sanctuary; it had been a nice walk through the city, as he cleared his mind, calmed down, and tried to reflect on what had happened between him and Sera. Ultimately, though, he hadn’t come up with much of anything. Every opportunity to think back and try to recall more of what he felt or even details of whom he saw when he closed his eyes was met with disappointing failure. Certainly, unable to do much more than grasp in vain at the fringes of his mind, he grew increasingly upset over the matter, until he no longer wished to think on it at all, and instead opted to put it off for later; who could blame him?

Dagan sat--with his back pressed against the wall--directly under the only window in the small room he used as his living space. His head was hung low, but his legs were laid flat in front him, rather than crossed or drawn up; his arms were folded neatly in his lap and his fingers were intertwined with one another; he wasn’t thinking, but he wasn’t asleep, either.

Bored.

He lifted his head and held it against the wall, staring at the plain, undecorated walls of his room.

Bored, bored.

His lips puckered and his tongue dipped just a bit, as he exhaled a controlled breath of air, and let a soft stream of sound.

“♪♫♪,” the sound grew in volume and became sharper, as he tapped a finger in rhythm against the back of one of his hands, and swayed the front of his foot from left to right.

Bored, bored, bored.

Sigh, he stood up and dusted himself off; he opened the window, it was large enough to accommodate his body; in fact, he had used it in just such a way several times before , and would probably continue doing so. He leapt out of the space and dropped to the ground below, still whistling to himself.

Guess I’ll go see how Attis is doing or something, he told himself.

Dagan's jaunt to the Great Hall, the only place he might have gone to find Attis or anyone else at all to fill the day (sans Nike or Sera, most likely), went uninterrupted.

When he reached the Great Hall, the scene was a familiar one: Attis and the Seeker. They stood together at the far south end of the Hall, alone. Or . . . not, perhaps. At second glance, Dagan might see the New Arrival sitting upon the bench before the two men, this time with a bit more physical confidence. He wasn't quite as lost in balance, at least. What differed from the familiar scene, however, was the mood. Rather than dismal and wary, there was a tense atmosphere between Attis and the Seeker.

"B-but you can't!" Attis shouted rather suddenly, receiving a cautious and surprised stare from the New Arrival. "You can't really mean that!"

The Seeker was unabated. "They failed their purpose. Our purpose."

Attis shook his head quickly. "I don't believe that at all--but . . ." He paused and decided to take a different approach to the argument--whatever the argument may be. Dagan had walked in on it right in the midst of the heat. "But so-- so what if they did? Just assuming that you're right and they didn't bring back a thing we could use, they're some of the most capable and experienced of . . . of everyone! If they couldn't do it, do you honestly think that he would do better?"

Dagan had stopped his whistling long before reaching the Great Hall; in truth, he couldn’t really hold a tune very well, and so it had only (mostly) sounded like noise. Practice would no doubt fix that, but that was for a later date. Slipping into the Great Hall was easy enough, he didn’t make much noise, and was relatively surprised to also see The Seeker there, along with Attis; they were discussing something and he, at first, wondered on whether or not to interrupt the two.

As curiosity got the better of him, he called out to the two, continuing to walk towards them, and smiling in greeting: “Huh, what’s going on?”

He wanted to go check on the New Arrival; he looked like he was doing better, at least, but the last time Dagan had seen Attis argue with the Seeker, it turned out to be pretty important, and he didn’t want to miss what was going on.

Both men turned their heads and looked upon Dagan as he made his way to them. The New Arrival, however, was the first to spot him. The second Dagan walked in, the New Arrival was watching the door in his seemingly normal lethargic way--lethargic, though perhaps not for lack of want to move or show excitement. There was a feeling, though, when he saw Dagan again. The sort of feeling that denoted a want to get up and greet the man personally. But how? The New Arrival didn't try, but he kind of wanted to, anyways.

"D-Dagan!" Attis exclaimed, his voice carried with the utmost enthusiasm--though not quite in a selfless way. Dagan was something of a voice of reason. "H-hey . . ."

But the Seeker cut it off short. Any chance of Attis bringing Dagan into this argument just like he did the first time. "It's none of your concern."

After which, Attis said nothing. He dropped his hand mid-wave and sulked his head and shoulders, releasing a sullen sigh afterward.

“tt, that so? If you say so, man.”

Dagan just stood there and shrugged; it didn’t put him off in the least and despite having only minimal exposure to the Seeker, Dagan felt pretty used to his way of speaking, already. Maybe he could have argued back, like the first time, or kept apply pressure on finding out what it was. Attis would’ve eventually cracked, probably; instead, he chose to walk towards the New Arrival, stopping just in front of him.

“How’re you doing?” He asked, though not really expecting a reply, but it never hurt.
“He looks better,” turning to look over his shoulder, Dagan focused on Attis: “So everything going well?”

Indeed, the New Arrival did not respond to Dagan, but the way he looked up to him was indicative of . . . something or the rather. His lips were still slightly parted, but now it looked like much more of an awed and curious expression than anything else. Like a child's.

"He's doing okay," Attis replied, "He's having an easier time moving around. He can walk and keep his balance already. And he'll keep getting ever better if he stays here."

This latter part was uttered with the utmost spite, as he directed a dissatisfied stare to the Seeker. The Seeker, on the other hand, didn't seem at all phased by it. In fact, Attis may as well have said or done anything at all. The Seeker wasn't the type to take offense to anything said by another, anyways. Or get upset. Or really care at all in the first place. Chances were, the only reason he asked anyone for anything was purely a matter of would-be courtesy. If he wanted badly enough to do something, it likely didn't matter if anyone approved or disapproved. Life was just easier when there was approval on his side.

“What do you mean?” Curiosity piqued, Dagan turned to fully face Attis and took a few steps closer to the man. “Why would he leave--has he tried to leave?”

Dagan was obviously no genius at deciphering the meaning of other’s words, but even he noticed that Attis had worded that one oddly and even with a bit more feeling than could normally be expected from the man. Regardless, if it had to do something with Seeker and the New Arrival, a ‘non of your business’ was most definitely not going to work this time around; after all, Dagan’s friends were his business and no amount of arguing was going to change that.

"N-no . . ." Attis stuttered, though became more self assured by his reply: "He didn't try to go anywhere at all. Someone is trying to make him go."

It was obvious exactly who he was talking about. Attis passed a glare to the Seeker, who didn't initially seem at all bothered by it. However, he was trying to keep Dagan out of this. Now that Attis was making it impossible, he folded his arms over his chest in a show of minor agitation.

"Petty," the Seeker muttered.

"Petty?" Attis reacted almost instantly. As socially awkward as the man was, it would've been impossible to say he couldn't get angry after seeing him like this. He'd taken a deep breath and even a sharp step toward the Seeker. "You think I'm being petty? This young man just got here! A-and-- and you're talking about sending him away? Off to that place? And you expect me to be okay with that? You saw how Sera and Nike came back like. I'm not going to just throw this poor guy into a potential madhouse!"

"But you'll drag him into one?" the Seeker remarked gruffly.

Attis was instantly taken aback. The whole head of steam he'd developed came crashing to a sudden and abrupt halt, and he paused at length.

"If you do not prefer this candidate," said the Seeker as he turned from Attis. He put one foot in front of the other, and soon he was walking away from the three of them, Attis, Dagan, and the New Arrival. And with this, he continued harshly: "Then find another."

Whoa.

Dagan instinctively stepped back and looked at Attis in surprise, but quickly recovered from it at the mention of Seeker’s plans. Any other time and he’d have reacted without thought, he’d have been enraged, even, and maybe actually made a challenge towards the Seeker for even considering such a thing. This time, though, it would have felt out of place, Attis and Seeker were discussing something Dagan didn’t know a thing about.

As Seeker walked away, Dagan finally re-took his step, and looked to Attis for answers:

“Annoying,” he called the Seeker. “What’s going on here? Where does he want to send him?”

Attis sighed. The whole situation was a bad omen already, and there was no way it was going to get any better. The Seeker would probably be much more insistent next time, and Attis wasn't confident that he could really tell the man no with much insistence if threat of bodily harm came into the equation. He always felt the part of a coward during times like this, weak and helpless against a great many individuals, most of which he helped into this city. Maybe he really was weak and helpless. Every time he thought about it, he recalled just how scrawny he actually was.

Downtrodden, Attis took a seat next to the New Arrival and sulked his head and shoulders. The New Arrival turned his head to look upon Attis quizzically. Chances were, he couldn't understand the feeling Attis was going through. Curiosity was the most he could feel . . .

"Somewhere . . . out there," Attis motioned to . . . well, nowhere in particular, but Dagan would probably get the point, "And probably alone, to boot . . ."

He dropped his indicative hand limply and let out another sigh.

"He wants him on the same job Sera and Nike are back from . . ."

“Out there?” Inquisitively, Dagan voiced his confusion on just what Attis was referring to, but didn’t dwell on it too long. At the very least, he could grasp what was happening: Seeker wanted the New Arrival, who could barely hold himself up, to go out and do something, but what that was, was irrelevant, because the request--itself--was pretty close to absurd.

“Well that’s stupid,” he shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. “Nike mentioned something about where he had gone, but he didn’t really want to talk about it; and anyways, how is he supposed to do anything,” he said in reference to the New Arrival, “when he’s like this? I don’t think Seeker’s thought this through,” he sighed.

Certainly, if Dagan thought the New Arrival to be in danger or that Seeker fully intended to send him somewhere that would harm him, he’d have been a bit more forceful in voicing his own concern, maybe even to the point of hunting Seeker down, but… Seeker wouldn’t really go that far, would he? He wasn’t the friendliest of people, but Dagan didn’t want to think he was a horrible person.

Attis didn't say anything for a long time. He let out a sigh and leaned forward, elbows upon his knees, and head hung low.

"It's experience," he finally said. "Nike and Seras were too experienced here, so . . . when they came back, they'd picked up all sorts of . . . habits."

He didn't elaborate about the habits themselves, but Dagan might be able to recall a certain thing that was off. For one, no one in this city drank. Anything. They had no reason to. They'd no need for food or drink, and only a handful of them even knew what food and drink was--and yet Nike and Seras had something with them before. Some sort of liquid with a powerful scent, one that seemed to have Seras all up in arms when Nike insisted that she drink.

Attis rubbed his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on already. The Seeker seemed to have a bad habit of forcing him into situations like these.

"The Seeker's looking for someone newer, that hasn't gotten used to this place. At least, someone that doesn't have enough memories to call anything home."

“Huh,” Dagan remarked. “Well that’s too bad, I guess, because I’m not going to let anything happen to him,” he proclaimed with a stirring hint of determination behind his words. Dagan didn’t really know the New Arrival, not really, he didn’t, but he had called the young man his friend; he didn’t want to lose yet another to this job, whatever it was.

Maybe he didn’t have the same level of familiarity with the city or its denizens as Attis and the Seeker, but Dagan knew when something just weren't right--and, if need be, he’d throw himself against the issue with an almost righteous fury.

Even still, Seeker probably didn’t think much of Dagan, but that would no doubt change if he started threatening the man’s friend. There were just some things that weren’t acceptable and this was quickly heading in that direction; luckily, Dagan really only understood half of what was going on, the gist of it, really, and he wasn’t going to react with only half the story; and Attis didn’t seem too fond of sharing all the details, either.

“He’ll have to look elsewhere,” he nodded in agreement with himself. “Or he can do it his self.”

Attis nodded, still looking somewhat defeated. Dagan's bravado was nice, yes, but it didn't escape the dilemma he was in, and it certainly didn't fix it, either. He didn't approve of any of this city's citizens fighting each other, whether they be people like Dagan or people like the Seeker--and for any reason at all, either. The first time the Seeker was violent with Dagan, Attis steeled himself to stop it if it were going to happen again. Killing each other was not the purpose for their being, nor was it the reason they came here.

"Don't worry," Attis smiled weakly, "It's my job to oversee this sort of stuff, anyways . . . and make sure everything's all in check."

He didn't quite elaborate on what that meant, and he wasn't going to, either. There were just certain things he wasn't comfortable talking about, and that subject happened to be one of them.

"So . . . I'll take care of it."

He coughed awkwardly.

"Anyways," Attis decided to change subjects, "How's Sera doing?"