It had been a few evenings in each other's company before Coventina was freshly revitalized to take to the night: and this time she brought something trusty with her to mediate her twilight. Skald, that is. Akin to a ... hound for the Countess to employ. It wasn't that she thought little of him - if anything, their time spent together and the certain care (if not unsimple interest) she offered his way argued to the contrary. He was unique. She enjoyed unique things, and she enjoyed them immensely more as they played to her whims and melted under her clawtips.

She'd beckon Skald along to the old Oakland Church as the moon crests the sky above through thin, smoky clouds. Her eyes had found their calm, perceptive gold again, freshly fed and keeping better aware of her energies spent on the foxish companion. She had yet to - and she smiled at the amusement in the thought, lost between the turns of shadows as they approached the building - come 'out' to the kitsune about her certain predilections, and hadn't yet fed on him unawares. She'd thought about it. Long and hard, every time they're coupled together again skin to skin, the scent of his throat reaching the huff of her lips until she'd think she could just crane his head back a little further - adjust him by his ears, open her mouth wider - and sink in for what was hidden beneath, but ... oh, but, alas.

She'd hate to have to put him down if he proved untrustworthy or ... disinterested. They were enjoying themselves. Were they? Another funny consideration, this time her laugh ghosting the night air and drawing her gaze back to Skald. She slowed from her already measured pace, arms crossing her bosom for one to lift and hold her cheek - an inquiry in starswallow eyes. "Have you ever ... lost someone, Skald Ragnulf? Anyone? A loved one, perhaps ... or an enemy?"

Did the question seem strange? They were approaching a tomb, after all, on something of a request; which Coventina had been upfront about being in for the Jewels, as there were baubles that caught her gaze in a town window. Spirits for them to deal with. Not her first excursion for such a case, especially with Phantom Lord's contribution hanging over the gravesite. "Careful ahead if so, darling."

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Skald had been enjoying his time with coventina thoroughly, she was the sort that truly understood him to a degree that he couldn’t even put into words. The nights were long, the days were longer and as they had spent time together he found that it still sped along. He was glad to be a hound that she could employee, he was glad that he could bare his fangs for her. He’d do it again without second thought. He had felt her touch in both mind and body more often than not to understand her thoughts of his uniqueness. Never once questioning it.

Following after her the ‘hound’ had donned his armor; it was almost entirely black and there was some cloth here or there that was meant to help muffle the sounds of its steps. He’d pause, staring at the oakland church. It had been decades since he set foot in any holy place of any type. His blue eyes locked on the building as though that was all that mattered for the moment. He’d exhale softly as he could feel the tumbling thoughts in his mind quell.

She hadn’t spoken to him about her particular venues of enjoyment or preference of how to deal with certain instances. But there were clues, things that he had noticed. But he pushed those aside knowing that the world was a big place and he wasn’t about to judge someone for whatever secrets they had. Hearing her laugh he felt his pulse quicken; it was a tone of music that he could listen to for ages. As they approached the church the kitsune paused.

”I lost my mother, father, sisters and brothers to the draugr of iceberg. As for enemies? Most could not fathom the amount of dead men behind me.”

Skald’s hands were drenched in blood in his time in the north, drenched in blood in his time in fiore. He had killed many people in self defense and more for causes that he truly believed in. He felt a soft crack in one of his knuckles as he drew his blade, Purgatory’s Remorse was a sickly blade; one that was so kissed by darkness that it was hard to tell it apart from the shadows around them.

”I’ve long since put them to rest in my mind Coventina. I had to bury their bodies myself.”

There wasn’t any pain in his voice when speaking about his family; just cold hard facts. He had dealt with spirits in his time as a hunter and he’d adjust slightly. Being more religious helped you focus divine might on smiting this sort of thing but for people like him or coventina? His magic would make short work of them; especially after the realization that his… Charge was back. There was a good chance that his armor might break from just using it but he’d have to see. His eyes flicked to coventina and he had to think about what he was going to do…

”I’m familiar with spirits already; though there have been a few instances of them being a little frustratingly tough. Hopefully we don’t have a wraith or greater wraiths in here. They tend to be a little more feisty…”

[538]

She'd hold out an arm to him, catching that brief moment of trepidation on their approach to the church. Her hand was turned down at the wrist, as if she was offering both to guide him and expecting him to do the same. She was still a lady, after all, and he was such the gentleman; wasn't he? It's not that she could blame him evermuch for the way his gaze fell on the holy building. She wasn't too fond of those things ... sacrosanct any more. Call it healthy Vampire caution. They weren't much welcome in religious spaces, and she'd had her fair share of run alongs with less than favorable members of the clergy after her unbeating heart. Still, she'd smile. Ghost across the ground, not too dissimilar from the specters they came to quiet.

"Is that so?", came the question on her upturned lips, measuring out the correct amounts of both respect and humor to offer him. It was forever a balance for Coventina. "You have my ... condolences." His losses were great. Innumerable, even - and Coventina would answer her own question, tapping a heel through cobblestone and bringing them inside and to the stairs down the tombs. It was clear this late at night. "I don't remember ... myself. Anyone I've lost, that is. I'm sure I had someone ...," and she trailed, her eyes not on him but the distant darkness. They were cat's-eye, chatoyant, in the dimming shadows. Little specks of gold ... searching, before she could blink them away and turn her phantasmal amusement back to him. "Once."

She mulled about his words. She took great interest in these little moments where she found something new to inquire of him. He was an open book; she wanted to owe that to herself, but it seemed more the type of man he was. He had a unique dichotomy. Such a kind, gentle man ... and so very dark, he was, wasn't he? Especially in that armor of his, and something about it ... well, her hands lingered on him. She caressed his chest with a pressure that seemed to imply he wouldn't be able to wear it for too long. The devouring nature of her eyes on him gave better hints to why. Yes, she quite liked him like this ... all ready to tear something apart.

"You have quite the history, Skald Ragnulf. Let's ... see what future we can make of it, mm?" She wiggled her finger in a tease, breaking way from flickering lantern light to the greatest darkness in a cavern where haunting tones played in echoes. She'd bring her hands in at her chest, once last glance his way, and clasp them together - shadows rushing to her aid and obscuring the remaining sources of light save for the deep purple of her magic seal, shining ultraviolet - brighter - darker, darker, eating that light - and then she stopped in the middle of an incantation, letting it clatter off her lips.

A sound came nearby, through a hollowed tunnel. And she'd drag her eyes back to Skald, her grin stretching along high cheeks. "Alas ... I am but a maiden, and I'd hate to get my pretty hands dirty ... Skald?"

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Skald paused when Coventina held out her arm, a seeking of guidance and perhaps relishing in the fact he was at her beck and call? The kitsune gently took her hand in hers, leaning down to kiss it softly before leading her along. Arm and arm for a little bit. His eyes were fairly intense still; like a beast set to kill what was in front of him. There was a sheer… bloodlust to his gaze that couldn’t be put any differently. There was a slight adjustment and his eyes flicked to coventina, studying her for a moment.

”Thank you. They rest well, the witch doctors and hags of iceberg were paid well for their services and they were buried in a mound that doesn’t allow for the necromatic energy of the land to bring them back.”

Skald was grateful at how the young version of him was still very thoughtful and with her saying that she didn’t remember if she had someone but she felt like she did lose someone at one point or another. Such was the nature of long lived individuals like elves or other types of individuals. He barely remembered their faces, the way they laughed, the way they cried. He barely even remembered the warmth of their touch.

”You have my condolences as well, loss is never something easy even when you’ve forgotten what it is.”

Feeling the touch of her hands on his armor made him pause; the intensity didn’t waiver at all and he simply stood there. He wanted to cradle her, wanted to tell her it was okay. Wanted to do something a thousand times; that pressure on his chest told him all he needed to know. At that statement and the wiggling of her finger in front of him he couldn’t help but chuckle.

”I look forward to seeing where it leads. Hand and hand with someone like you~”

The way she used magic made him ponder what else she could do, there was a tingling at the back of his head and feeling that pressure from the hollowed tunnel? She needn’t even ask. He’d step forward, something surging on his arm, a mass of crackling energy that seemed to stem from the core of his very being.

”You needn’t even ask Coventina.”

His hand came up, and a blast of lightning far stronger than anything he had ever cast before lanced out, down the hallway, illuminating everything for an instant. The thunderclap that came afterwards was surprising; his lightning was no where near as powerful as actual lightning yet but it was strong enough to where the armor on his arm that he cast from was vaporized.

”...Thought as much…”

[450]

"You've lived something storied, haven't you?" It wasn't something that necessarily needed to be stated - but what was Coventina without her little theatrics, the playful down lilt of her tone and the draw she made out of every scene? If she wanted to say something, she'd say it. Everyone around would simply be forced to listen. In this case ... well, Skald hardly had to be forced into anything. He'd be a good boy and nod along with her. Still, her interest in him appeared as genuine as any other little peculiar glance she sent his way, an offering of her fairweather attentions subtly laid within the plush of her lips on their slow movement. "I wouldn't mind hearing more ... about this past of yours, and what it's left for you."

After all: it led him to her. Didn't it? Knowledge was appropriately another tool. You didn't just sip from a cup before tossing it away; not when its taste was sweet, so unique. She had every intention to drink it all the way down ... such was her time with Skald. She swirled his sympathy around the roof of her mouth, extending little more than a hum in response to the condolences. "It's fine. I never lose for long."

She hadn't missed the meaning. As she settled back in the shadows, clearing space for Skald and whatsoever way he'd handle the problem affront them, she'd trace the knuckles of one hand with the pale touch of the other. Her statement was honest; at the least, her outlook of the situation of 'loss' was 'don't do it again': and in the case of a death, of grief or weakness, she handled it much the same as that game. Don't feel it again. She would win over anything in her way. And most especially, this, herself.

She dispelled these lingering thoughts on the lift of her palm, bringing creeping darkness to the heel of her hand and therefore defending herself from the static aftershock loosed by Skald's spell. She wasn't going to suffer a hair out of place just because his bark and bite were both ... impressive.

This praise shown actually upon her face, lifting an eyebrow in a pleased review of the situation and dragging her bright gaze from the dissipating tones of that which once haunted to Skald's smoking arm. She'd lift it up higher still, cresting his muzzle, and when she got his eyes in the afterlight of lightning; the brightness of his pupils, a glow to meet hers; she'd step closer, letting her arm fall and her momentary shield with it. She didn't need a barrier between her and her next actions. If anything - Skald had too many left.

She'd touch his cheek, thumb across where she knew she could draw his teeth out, and then lift it with the flutter of her fingertips beneath his chin. Her head would dip, sideways in a shrouded half-smile, and then - with the debris still settling and the dying cries of a spirit in the distance - she'd meet him in a kiss, sighing out far too cold into his mouth. "Very good ..." She purred to him, angling to find them space against a crumbling pillar. Her grip stroked to his ear, holding it, and she deepened the embrace. Her chuckle was dark. Hungry. "Good boy."

They had warned off what mattered of their current troubles ... and bought them more time, besides. What was the harm in indulgence? You'd find no alternative in the goldenrod that encompassed him, shutting their curtains only after his attentions had been entrapped with her once again.

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