Tick tock. Tick tock. Nightfall engulfed the purple sky, recoloring it into a jet-black that enveloped the entire town. A canopy of luminous stars materialized amongst the ocean of blackness. Some were dull, merely flickering into existence every now and then, but there was an adequate amount of shimmering stars to illuminate the dark, moonless night. Faint winds would breeze across, howling throughout the town. "Man, fuck this town." a voice would declare aloud, without the slightest care to the time of day.

Faust loathed just about everything about Oak Town. From the people of the town, to the nobles, even the dark guild that ruled over the town. The people were all frightened senseless, none of the villagers brave enough to tackle the administration of the town. The lord who overlooked the town wasn't much better either, having being in cahoots with the villainous guild. Lastly, the guild itself was pathetic in Faust's eyes. Supposedly an all-powerful and respected force, Faust catechized why such an organization needed assistance from the local lord, whose power was only limited so.

But what could a single man do? Even with his confident persona, Faust could only do so much as a response to his emotions. He'd walk throughout the streets of Oak, staring at all the closed stalls and shops, contemplating a number of matters that he'd never be able to change. Eventually, his mindless wandering brought him in front of the famed Majura Gallery, having only opened recently. A brilliant scheme made its way into the white-haired coyote's brain, following immediately after, a smile that he had not presented in a while.

From behind Faust, a dark-haired boy approached with a purple hoodie. The hood was pulled up and tightened around him, hiding two feline-ears. He'd recently underwent a change in appearance actually, but his face was still recognizable in town.

Once the infamy started rolling in, it took more than just new colors to fix one up. Speaking of which, the way everything had happened, well, it was almost like a falcon attack, hasty-- out of no where, and brutally uncalled for in a world already as dark as it was. Strategist, they called him... He'd became one of the more well known up-and-climbing mercenaries around these parts. He was also a powerful competitor in the tournaments weeks ago. Defeating one challenger only to be shut down by the champion in the next qualifying round. The crowd loved that battle-- though-- Erebus didn't. The whole lot of it annoyed him, losing to some giant. Oh well. Nothing can be done, the opponent was worthy. Grimoire Heart mages didn't dwell on stupid things like failure for too long. They were always preparing for the better future. Hence why they'd remained underground for so long.

If Faust wasn't native to Oak, he probably didn't know Erebus Cassiel, but the name that traveled by ear-- the one he probably did know? That name was Strategist. Yet here he was, doing his own thing-- a petty crime, a fun hobby. He was bent partially in an acute angle when he made himself relevant. Speaking loud enough to snap the white-haired punk from his thoughts. His tone was both ordering, but also without an underlying rude intent, after all he was only addressing the Coyote. Not forcing hi to do anything. "You look like a kid with the right idea. Guess I wasn't the only one with an eye out for a fancy museums." The boy jested whilst he slid a hand into his satchel, it had been sheer convenience, but the adventurer was planning to graffiti the insides of Majura Gallery-- at the same time Faust wanted to thrash it. Too bad the art was protected by barriers. However: the couches, tables, glass casings, walls. Everything else could be kicked in, destroyed, and painted down with whatever the criminal wanted.

So why not? Not like Celeste had been sleeping with Strategist lately. Not for the last few nights anyways. She was busy. He assumed at least-- what with her being a woman and all. Well, whatever. For now his attention was trained on Coyote Faust, the wise guy eyeing the doorway like a lost puppy. Strategist approached in a way that was reasonably ready to fight back if needed, sure. It always was, but mostly he was calm and repressed when ministering himself to the general audience. Which from the looks of it was just Mr. Noire for now. Nothing hostile. Just this and that had to be on guard in case the stranger got violent. In any case, Erebus was trying to make a friend. Someone to tear things up with, since as dumb as it sounded. He didn't have anyone for the second. "I was gonna have some fun, you too huh? Cool. I have six spray cans, pick your color?"

In the looming darkness approached a figure wearing gloomy colors, notably the hoodie swallowed by a shade of lavender. The man, upon closer inspection, was only a tad bit taller than Faust himself, his face providing a clue that he was within the same age gap. Other than the hoodie tightened beyond explanation, there was nothing conspicuous about the fellow. Despite nothing standing out physically, what Faust did feel was a definite air around the guy, something that loomed above all else. In all honesty, the Coyote hardly felt this way about a specific group, much less a man alone. The way he approached Faust in a calm and collected manner, even in the middle of the night. It was intriguing in many aspects and Faust would not leave an opportunity like so to leave his grasp. The young male seemed to have similar ideas to Faust, coincidentally, henceforth furthering Faust's curiosity of the specimen before him.

Right after the invitation, the Strategist dived into his little man-purse and pulled out an arrow of colors of cans. Faust paused as the shock took him by surprise, soon realizing the situation at hand. Whereas Faust had wanted to purge the town of an entire building, a nobody wanted to graffiti the valued works of art. It was definitely comical, enough for the Coyote to howl and express his joy, vocal chords knowing no bounds. But hey, why the hell not? It has been a while since he had a bit of fun. Doing dirty jobs after dirty jobs in the god-forsaken town nicknamed Oak, it was definitely a nice change. Throwing a few tags around the little gallery wouldn't hurt. The man picked up the bright yellow spray can, opening his jaws and presented his own name. "Faust."

And a good thing, choosing to tag the place instead of taking it down. As he kicked the door down and waltz into the room, it seemed that every single painting had a faint color to it, giving off short of a shine. No, not the kind of dazzling shine, but one that was noticeable. Immediately, Faust realized his mistake. As idiotic as the residents of Oak Town were, there's no way one would leave a famed gallery unguarded to the mass. Thank goodness his fellow delinquent brought the little toys. Walking over to the right side of the museum, Faust stared at a frog plastered in a case of some sort. "What the hell could be so special about this frog?" he thought aloud. Were frogs a lucky animal or something? The last time Faust had anything to do with frogs was when he was living like a prince back in the capital. His father would have frog legs brought up to the young heir, a delicacy apparently. Even then, Faust despised them and nothing changed now. With his bright yellow spray, he threw up his own art: a very graphical, detailed chicken nugget covered up the frog labelled "Pepe".

The Coyote looked towards his partner-in-crime, wondering what kind of art he filled up the museum with.

The coyote boy's laugh was met by a smug sophisticated grin, Erebus answered shortly after the character would clench fingers over the yellow can. Removing it from the satchel. "Strategist." Erebus liked this new person, which was a rarity. Usually he fancied only females in his company. But for awhile now he'd wanted someone to cause a little chaos with. Faust seemed like the perfect mix of cooled off, and bordering livid. The type of thing the purple-jacketed one was in his earlier days. Erebus saw similar qualities in 'em even as he kicked open the door. Good qualities-- bad ass qualities.

'Faust' wouldn't be a name he'd forget after tonight. Then again, he might not see ol' Faust again after this episode. Best to make the most out of this game while it's still out there. The door cracked and broke down under Faust's boot. Coming from behind the white-haired Coyote was the tad taller Grimoire mage. His pace a little more reserved. Unlike Faust, Erebus had seen the gallery and planned his motives. Faust seemed to approach the world famous Pepe picture-- excellent choice; but Erebus wanted a broad spectrum of things to break and tag.

Jumping onto a table Erebus pulled two cans from his bag. Green and blue. Then, like a seasoned runner, he shot off spinning with agility. Given to him by his neko lineage. The boy somersaulted as liquid paint darted the rugs, ceilings, and etc surrounding him. Erebus landed on his feet, horizontal to the ground and stuck to the wall as if he were ignoring gravity. This was due to his mastery of balance and the ability to run across any platform. After having flipped ten feet to get there, a normal person would've gagged to see how elegantly he moved without hesitation.

He took off side-riding against the obstacle to make swirly elevated graffiti marks. As he did so, his feet would crush the glass frames underneath his flipflops. His physical strength being just high enough to do so. After that was done the entire side of the opposite end of the Majura Gallery was painted and looked as if a group of teenagers came twas the room to wreck it. They did, but it wasn't exactly a group. Moreso a duo-- two equally bad characters.

Well, that might not be true. Did Faust murder people? Might not be a good idea to ask people questions like that. Erebus knew that. He just couldn't shake the feeling Faust would fit into Grimoire Heart great. 'Course it wasn't like he could just 'tell' him about the guild. He'd need to go about inducting him an approachable way. That's if the guy was even interested at all. Plus, if Icarus and Crowley were interested either.

Erebus panted-- heart racing now that he was finished with a fair amount, he watched his hand tossing the cans to the sides, where he then dug for a black canister. He took to a painting titled 'Mona Lisa' and drew male genitalia beside her lips, with droplets onto her face. In addition he drew her some hairy titties. The final piece he thought, would be some devil horns. When he turned around, he met Faust's gaze. Erebus, meanwhile looking in that direction, was sweeping glass bits off of his sweat pants.

The man had spent the whole time coloring, perfecting, a blob of yellow overtop Pepe's glass. It took Erebus a moment to realize the meme. "Nice tendies." The man in the lavender hoodie then walked over to some tables, tagging them by writing graphic vulgar words or sayings. Such as 'Eat Chode Here,' and other indiscreet insults. His claws unsheathed and he took out the legs of the tables' and chairs' so they would break down and be lop-sided. The Grimoire mage proceeded from there with his extended claws to hit the couches. Running them through the fabric and ripping outward, then filling the exposed fluff stuffing to wet red paint. It looked as if people had been slaughtered whilst sitting there. Truly horrific.

Fun. Now all he could do was break things and chill while the coyote went about. A single chair which handn't been broken, purposelly, was pulled up. Erebus sat down and stretched. "I have a purple left, you want it?" Truth was, the male probably had lasted more with the yellow can due to a slower, more frequent pace. But all Erebus cared about was the dozens of penis tags covering the gallery. That was his ultimate goal. Whereas Faust probably had better uses for his colors. Like actual images, such as the nugget. It was a pretty good nugget, not gonna lie.

It seemed that the first thing Erebus tagged was the known painting of "Mona Lisa". Faust had always hated it. Having discovered it in books of art as a brat, Faust spent his younger days with his nose buried in books; socializing was out of the question, coming from a family of noblemen. Perhaps his carefree attitude was a result of having no freedom as a child. Strategist decorated the painting with a pair of male genitals, gooey droplets of the reproductive cells all about her face, all occurring in the color of despair. He personally gave the painting a touch of his own creativity, enhancing and definitely making Mona Lisa's 'womanly charms' stand out. It was enough to get a snicker out of the Coyote, despite him usually unable to display emotions to any other individual other than himself. Lastly, Erebus gave her a pair of demonic horns. As childish as it was, Faust exploded as he burst into tears, courtesy of the humorous artwork. Despite having met this man briefly, Faust connected to him; perhaps it was too soon for him to be trusting people, but he did nevertheless.

Strategist commented upon Faust's own creation, though it was nothing on the tier of his colleague. A chicken nugget would have less of an impact to the public than a pair of genitalia portrayed where brats could openly see. In his hoodie of purple, Erebus continued on with his tagging and Faust did the same. Around the open areas and spaces in between each piece, Faust did a chicken nugget here, a violent and unsophisticated word there. Various sayings of inappropriate saying eventually filled up the left wall of the room before Faust shook his can to realize the horror. His golden instrument had ran out. Luckily, Erebus offered a purple, which Faust took with delight. A smile took place as Faust ushered for his comrade to pass the paint. "My yellow just ran out." he'd say, dropping the lifeless canister.

How would the public react when they discover the mess of a gallery? The idea of such had Faust in an ecstasy of his own. It'd been a while since he let loose.

The boy did his own thing, meanwhile Erebus relaxed his body. Letting his mind enter that place it always did, he felt this rift growing. Like a big wall or something. Celeste wasn't calling... He was back in galleries breaking stuff. The whole fuss of it was just, very vintage-- it ws the past. He didn't do things like this anymore. Not that it wasn't fun... Weird maybe.

Oh well, he'd find other things like this more often he supposed. Faust here was a good kid to have around or what have you. Maybe he could even get the Coyote out on his sprees more often. Sure would be nice to have a partner in crime, you know, other than the one he was sleeping with.

The two seemed to be interested in the same things anyways. Those being vandalism and violence apparently. But the difference, or as far as Strategist was putting together. Was that Faust was unstable madness. Erebus was the controlled psycho. His fits took effort to trigger, meanwhile Faust seemed more like he just didn't care. A sociopath and a psychopath maybe? Or perhaps that was reversed, and Faust was the psycho? Either or, they held common similarities and vastly noticeable differences as well.

But even then.

This was a lot of fun.

Truth was, young Cassiel hadn't had fun like this in a long while, usually he found himself being more and more serious. He hated it really, remembering how the guild was when he first came into it. He wanted to lighten up and re-capture the kid in himself. Much like how he wanted to get Grimoire to have more humor. They were like robots, dark, edgy, and fucking stuck in their feelings. Every now and again, nights like this were a treasure.

It'd be nice to do this again at some later time. Maybe even get Faust a spot in the lower ranks. It was a stretch, but plausible. At the very least, they'd know one another. Connections are what defines one's success in this world. Or so it was said.

"Yeah, then this should work. Last one, it's yours man so have at it."

Erebus spoke, handing the purple can up. Jeez, it'd be better if there were more people, like. A whole group or something. Where was Celeste when he needed her? Tsk... Maybe he couldn't count on her anymore. Wouldn't be a surprise but it sure would hurt. Whatever-- he guessed to himself. Nothing in this world lasts forever. More goals to devote into with his time-- on top of that, he'd be able to train and get back to his old goals. He still had a while before they could be acted upon anyways, if he wanted to be stronger; compensating for lost time would have him earn it. No shortcuts.

Minutes passed before their was a sharp drop coming from somewhere in the building, a noise was heard from the backroom. Was there guards here? If not, a janitor? What were they doing? Erebus squinted-- perhaps they were afraid or... "Did you invite friends or something? Sounds like company just arrived." The boy tightened his hood and stood up from his chair. He shared little fear amongst his aura. Curiosity though, excitement, he radiated it.

The canine picked up the canister mid-air, having been thrown to him. He stared intently at the purple; the color pulled him into a daze that had him thinking as to why he was uncontrollable. Coyote. The title fit him well, considering how the mutt often hunted alone with no assistance. As to why his solo-risque behavior began, it was unknown even to the individual. At this point, it was out of habit to do everything alone. The change to having a partner was warming, though feelings of trust were brought into question in this point. Faust stopped himself there. Trust? It wasn't like he was going to see Strategist after today.

With all the reminiscing, Faust remembered that he had something to do. Henceforth, he would cut the fun short. "Hey." he started to get the man's attention. "I think I left the stove on. I'm jumping ship!" The amount of sarcasm embedded into his voice was heavy. As soon as he said it, he walked out the door of the broken gallery.