The demon came with the twilight. A hushed whisper was shared with the local stable master and after confirming that her stallion would be taken care of, the raven haired woman disappeared into the countless alleys of the city. There was nothing–or no one–in particular Nuala wanted to avoid, but in a place as law-ridden as Era, the former dark mage thought it wise to move around without being noticed too much by anyone. Her destination was the same as always, although the memories she’d made there were fleeting, much like anything in her life. Perhaps this time around, things would be different. Nuala decided to stay hidden in darkness, using her dagger’s magic to become invisible as she infiltrated the Rune Knight living quarters. From what she could tell, these chambers weren’t his permanent residence, but due to work he did end up spending most of his time here. Nuala hadn’t mentioned any of the recent developments regarding her guild alignment in the (admittedly many) letters she’d sent and while she did feel the urge to share how she thought and felt about what had happened at Eternal Nightmare, the demon decided that some things were simply meant to be spoken about in a private, personal environment. Face to face, if you want.

After avoiding two, three rounds of guards–young knights, eager to do good and rise in the ranks–Nuala climbed up the outer walls until she’d reached the fourth floor. The window had been left unlocked and without a single peep she snuck inside and closed the curtains. Of course there was always the door and the option to come and go like a normal person (and against popular belief, Nuala was given a key with the permission to use it whenever), but she preferred the element of surprise. Jove wasn’t here and likely wouldn’t be for another two hours or so, which gave her plenty of time to take a shower and cozy up at his desk with a glass of merlot. No stray paperwork was left out and almost smugly, the thief pulled out a key (this one she’d taken without his permission, which he without a doubt knew about) and opened that curious drawer on the left, where Jove usually kept some, but not all, of his most interesting cases. Stacks of paper, records and documents were neatly sorted and folded together and after doing a swift scan of all possible options, Nuala picked her evening read.

Two candles had been lit, one at the nightstand next to his bed and one at the table she was now sitting at. The light was dim, but would notify him of her presence once he entered through the main door. A torn up painting, laboriously plucked and glued back together, was propped against the wall just ahead of her and with a smile she took notice that Jove had completed the puzzle without much fuzz. Maybe she would apologize for that one day, but probably not. Nuala’s attention returned to the file in front of her. Technically, this wasn’t even illegal anymore, since she’d left the dark guilds behind and all that. Surely Jove would agree.

What was his life now without overtime? It was incredible how the mages very moniker, one which clearly implied his disdain for additional hours outside of his contract, had been thrust aside due to the evolutions happening within the world once more. Only a couple of short weeks had past since the meeting of the Commanders, and just like that their numbers were cut in half. One of them a betrayal from within the Rune Knights, cutting the Vampiress down through the use of an elaborate ruse meant explicitly to bring about her demise. The other finding their way into the Crime Sorciere, a move which he himself helped orchestrate, yet still they could feel the loss.

At least Aleja can still support our efforts, he thought, a deep sigh dragging the life from his lips. In his efforts to improve himself, Jove was able to boast of a refreshed physical appearance. He appeared, for all intents and purposes, five to ten years younger. Perhaps it was the rigorous physical exercise, or the influx of mana; hell, perhaps it was even the mental stimulation of having to piece together ragtag sections of his parents painting. A mental image of himself on the living room couch, a half empty frame laid before him on the coffee table and reading glasses balanced upon the bridge of his nose.

Jove's feet stopped him in front of his private quarters, and as he reached for his key, he paused for the briefest of moments. A rough outline, drawn in the back of his brain based on the shape of her mana flowing through her veins. An enticing silhouette, and one which admittedly made an immediate improvement on his wellbeing. His posture corrected ever so slightly, his pupils dilating as he felt the sleepy haze rush from his mind. He inserted his key, opening the door, and immediately being welcomed by the scent of burning amber and autumn leaves. As prickly as she could be, he could never say she wasn't thoughtful. The cat burglar embraced the former part of her name fully in attitude, and he found it rather endearing.

The door closed behind him, and as he made a line straight towards his bedroom, he loosened his tie with one hand. He stepped into the doorway, and noticed by her lack of a response to his presence that she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers. She didn't even need to sacrifice a bloody eye.

He walked up, leaning forward and placing a hand gently on the side of her head, dropping his lips to her bangs over where her hairline would be for but a moment and then taking his seat next to her. "Good Evening, Primrose." A play on words and an affectionate nickname, all at once. How very fun. "I see you accidentally helped yourself to some of my files again. Silly me, leaving the drawer unlocked," he mocked, leaning back on the bed and propping himself up with an elbow. He looked from the papers to her, and if she had turned to look back at him on the bed, she'd find his eyes trained on hers. "What do you think of it?" The documents were about the very Esperia and Aleja situations, two things she had only been kept briefly aware of.

The contents of these documents were fascinating and the demon was immediately captured by the detailed telling of two former knight’s departures. The names were only barely familiar, one more so than the other and although the politics of this country meant relatively little to her, she always felt a sense of excitement when flipping through their records–it was almost as if she could watch their little stories unfold through the well kept writings of one dutiful man. The organization Crime Sorcière caught her interest and Nuala kept an eye out for more information when she heard the door open and close. He would know it was her, for they had been playing this game for a few months now, and she continued to browse through the files until he appeared at her side. “Good evening,” she replied, subtly leaning into his gesture of affection.

“I thought perhaps you left it here for me to find. You know how much I love a light evening read,” the demon continued and before Jove could pull away, her hand had found his. For reasons unbeknownst to them, the pair had always been like this–intimate, trusting and blissfully unaware of the otherworldly strings that bound their lives, and a few others, to one another. A reason for, but not the fundament of their devotion – if you want to call it that. In slow motions, her thumb drew lazy circles into his skin while she pondered his question. “I think there’s too many alliances, and too many..good guilds,” she concluded and let go, turning towards Jove while he seated himself on his bed. “I mean, how do you even know what’s going on at..,” she paused for a moment there, red eyes skimming over the text, “..I don’t know, Blue Pegasus?” Of course it never occurred to the dark mage that alliances between good guilds were built upon mutual trust and a desire to keep the peace, but in reality both Nuala and Jove knew better than to trust blindly – alignments be damned.

Nuala began wiggling about, turning the chair until she faced him, and her position had become more comfortable. Her head leaned against the backrest and already dressed in cozy sleepwear, the demon pulled her knees up against her chest and draped her arms over them. “What else do you know about Crime Sorcière? Are they purely vigilantes, or is there a deeper purpose to their unity?” She hadn’t told Jove yet, about Eternal Nightmare, but in due time she would. Maybe he even knew already, considering how well he managed to keep tabs on everyone else after all. New guilds had risen and established themselves as powerhouses in different areas of the country and even though she was a demon now, Nuala still found herself ruefully thinking back on Daeva Eye’s and Eternal Nightmare’s more glorious days, when darkness dominated the lands. His glare–always a bit more intense than she was prepared for–snapped her out of it.

“You probably had a long day. We can talk about something else, if you’d like.”

She answered his quip with one of her own. He remembered back to when they first had met- Most people took his words to be malicious, due in large part to his tone. He couldn't sit there and say he particularly cared how they interpreted his intent, but she had always been different. Quick to volley with him, it felt as if they had a sort of basic connection in which neither had to exert too much effort. They just naturally linked, and he enjoyed that.

Without any pressure between them, it had dissolved any sort of foundation in how they were supposed to interact with each other. He overlooked her activities far too much for his position, and some could argue he even covered for her. In this way, it was difficult to argue that he wasn't corrupt. He had allowed feelings to compromise his work, something he had done so well in avoiding for the years prior to meeting her.

However, her input was always invaluable, and very direct. She didn't try to beat around the bush with him, showering pleasantries in to mask to venom. Her words, sometimes harsh, were rarely uncalled for. He glanced at the jigsaw painting, grimacing lightly. If only her actions followed suit.

She asked about Crime Sorcière, and then just as quickly reneged the question, realizing that she might be essentially asking him to work from home. He smiled, genuine amusement and love in his gaze and on his lips, though only adding to the exhausted look his expression always had a hint of. "It's fine, I asked." He gazed at how she sat on the chair before him, completely at home with him, and he glanced up to the ceiling. "I don't really ever know what's going on. I have informants, sure, but by the time information reaches me it's often changing. Rune Knights have to go through so much bureaucracy that some within the ranks had mentioned how we should partner up with some vigilantes. People who live close to the street, who handle things on their own and in their own way, and receive the grace of the Knights looking the other way for their services."

He sat up again. "They don't always actively suppress crime or anything. Sometimes they just serve as informants, or people who offer a form of stability that's simply better than the alternative. The members can come together in temporary alliances; some are closer than others. It's really more of a non-aggression pact between the members and Fiore, really."

Her sleepwear was always too big for her. He loosely clung to her body, and though the baggy clothes should have taken away from her form, it only served to enhance. The cloth draped over her skin like water, the thin fabric teasing her fit frame. Her activities always kept her on the move, and to say that she didn't take the time to pamper herself would be a lie. She put in the work to always appear flawless, and even in moments where she seemed to just come as she was so to say, she looked manicured and perfect. It was yet another reminder that she had quite the odd taste in men.

"Tell me about yourself, though. What brings you to Era of all places?"

“They don’t actively suppress crime,” Nuala repeated after him, pondering his words and the information shared on Crime Sorcière. The demon’s departure from Eternal Nightmare was foreseeable, but not in the context of the passing of its Master, Odin Morningstar. When the Lich perished, the plans she’d had for the following months and years went down the drain and although her personal feelings towards her former guild’s leader were professional at best, she deeply regretted his demise. “Doesn't sound like something I’d enjoy.” Her words came out as a murmur and she reached for the glass of wine on the desk. “And stability,” twirling her drink, Nuala watched intensely as the crimson liquid coated the edges of its vessel, “..is just plain boring.” There was use in it, yes, and the woman could see why the Rune Knights had settled for this unconventional approach, but while stability was good, control was even better – and perhaps the Council was finally losing theirs. A man like Jove could without a doubt benefit from that, but that was a conversation for another day.

Nonetheless, Nuala did like the idea of a non-aggression pact and perhaps she would look deeper into it at a later time, as she contemplated where her journey would take her next. Her eyes settled on Jove once more and all thoughts about guilds and alliances went out of the window. “Nothing really,” she said in response to his last question, before emptying her glass and setting it down. “But you’re here, and that’s reason enough for a visit. And besides,” she paused for a moment there to get up from her spot and saunter over to where he sat, “I couldn’t help but notice that you find my company quite enjoyable.” Nuala was blunt, but never too genuine, and those words were the only way for her to tell him that she actually liked seeing him happy. The moonlight cast her pale skin in a healthy glow and two dimples accentuated the faint smile on her lips.

Jove had always reminded her of a kicked puppy. Lonely and in a seemingly permanent state of exhaustion, it wasn’t at all surprising that the Rune Knight craved a sense of love and belonging, even if it came from questionable sources. He’d never actively resisted her and despite his occupation, the thief had never challenged his motives. He was virtuous in his own way, and fiercely loyal to a selected few. Nuala considered herself lucky to be a part of his inner circle and she’d long stopped looking for a reason to explain her affection – it simply was, and that sufficed. “There’s more I have to tell you, but let’s save that for later,” she said, running a hand up and down his back, gently pressing against the tension knots she felt over his clothed skin. “You look tired. Do you want me to run you a bath?”