Quietly, he regarded the man shivering before him. Straight-backed, proud, knowing, strong, one hand raised under his chin he looked the perfect picture of contemplation and wisdom. Long white-blonde hair flowed down to his shoulders like twin waterfalls, optimisingly matching the light grey tail coat, trousers and white, open-necked shirt he wore as he sat upon his oak throne. A throne in which was in prime place of this well-sized, panelled room, with only one door and half a dozen guard dotted around the walls. All focused inwards to the human shaking on the rug in the centre. Slowly the one on the throne blinked, and set his hand on the arm of his throne, glancing to his right. There stood a tall elf, with wavy brown hair and green eyes, supporting a sword at his side. He gave the lord a slightly nod, to which the lord responded by looking to his left. Partly back in the darkness of the room, stood a kenku. Clothed in a thin tunic her glossy black feathers allowed her to partially merge with the shadows in which she waited - watching as the interview came to its conclusion.
She gave the lord little regard other than a clack of her tongue against the side of her great, dark beak.
The lord, a noble of Beinost by the name of Sir Vitruvion Elssmith, turned back to the one on the rug.
"A house you say?" questioned he, his rich, succulent voice sending all hearts in the room pounding.
With a thick swallow the interviewee gulped a huge, long breath. And a tremour ran through his body as he tried to gesture a simple, unbroken nod. The man had been here for an hour already, snatched from the streets of Beinost by the same six guards who stood about the room. Already the world of the city had been hammering him for answers to his riddle about the 'crunching of bones'. He had been treated well by the kinder citizens, it was true, but when nobody had been able to answer his question over the grotesque sound, the man - still shaken and gasping - had stumbled back onto the streets, better clothed and fed -and that was where these people had found him.
And it had not taken long for him to meet the lord Vitrivion and find out that he could see into his mind.
"C-crunching of bones," the man whispered again. But his mind showed an image of a ghostly house, an entrance hall lit by a hundred candles. "Crunching of bones," he repeated, and his mind showed a dark forest.
"I see," Vitruvion agreed, "The forest near Amon Lungan."
"Crunching," the man nodded, this time in a better controlled manner. "Crunching, cr-crunching of bones."
Looking to his left, to the elf - Raevin was his name - the lord paused for a moment, but then changed his mind and looked right suddenly. For a long moment the kenku there, who was called Avis, or rather Stare, disregarded him, her eyes focused in on this apparent lone survivor of a terrible ordeal. But then she felt a sharp twang against her consciousness. It was not painful - there had been a time when Vitruvion had needed to use pain to get her attention - but rather just uncomfortable. It was an indication of presence, a way of saying 'give me your attention'.
With a grunt Stare looked over at him, the ridge above her eyes that was the closest thing to a brow rising.
"Yeah?"
"I want you to go and find out what this is," Vitruvion said, his voice still like honey. "Clearly there is some devilry going on here."
"You are the only one who can see what he is thinking," Stare objectively retorted, "So its not very 'clear' to the rest of us."
Another stab at her conscious. This time it made her wince. With a roll of her eyes she looked away, back to their interviewee - victim - on the rug.
"Fine," she thickly replied.
"I will be watching all the way," Vitruvion regarded her, "Naturally you will need my help. I expect also there to be other adventurers heading there, having heard the rumours from this wretch. He is the last survivor of a group of four that originally went in. It was just luck that he happened to stumble into my city." He indicated the rug.
"Crunching oh-of b-bones," came the agreement.
Stare grunted and pushed away from the wall. "Beinost is not entirely your city," she replied, dryly. But all she received was a stern glare. After the destruction of the house of Heysan, a rich merchant and noble family in the city, Vitruvion had begun to presume more power over the broken city day by day. Nothing she could do about, however. Her job was to simply follow orders.
Shifting her weight onto the clawed feet beneath her she gave in, and set her hands on the two dagger hilts by her waist.
"When do I leave?" she asked.
"... Now."
---
A cold and harsh wind drove pelting rain against her feathers. It was dark - terrifyingly so, as it was under a thick bed of cloud and whatever dark magics held his place in constant horror. She had, though, the luxury of being able to still perfectly see, for her eyes were capable of finding any light, even if it was invisible to others. As fast as she could she ran from the cover of the forest, leaving behind the dapple-coated chocobo she had rented from the closest town. The bird was patient and bold, responding to her touch as if it felt the avian connection between them, but it had no place in a potentially haunted house. Thus, Stare had left the beast just in the trees, unbound so it could run home if it needed.
And so she was now alone, braving the sodden wet to head for this terrible gravestone of a mansion before her. She already had an expectation of some of the rooms here - for what Vitruvion had managed to glimpse from the shaking survivor he had passed now onto her. Images of candles, traps and odd-looking rooms were now locked in her memory, at least giving her an expectation of what was to come. Even if the vast majority of the pictures were far too vague for any true advantage.
As she reached the large, front door she extended a clawed hand and grasped the handle to pull it towards her. A large, terrible creak resounded around her but it did not make her less daunted. She had a purpose to do, after all, and the storm here was picking up.
Desperately she darted in when the crack she opened was large enough. It took a mere second for her eyes to adjust back from their infrared specialisation to normal sight. They swept the room, avidly, taking in the same sight that she had been promised - and expected. A vast hall, two stories high. Indigo and prussian blue drapes across almost every wall, with tens upon tens of candles lighting it from walls and from a huge chandlier, with a glorious beauty. A quick intake of breath and Stare assessed the ways out of the space, finding the two staircases leading upwards, and the places where she could hide. Some micro-seconds later she scanned the room once more, stunned to find another body there. A small, surprised looking woman. Rather neutral in allignment, according to her greenish aura. But only the one being.
At least for now.
Stare slipped further into the room, not caring about stealth. Clack, clack, clack, went her talons on the floor, cutting large grooves in the dust as she did.
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