Governmental Bloc :: Winterheart Concrete. That's the first thing that one would think of when they were to step into the Governmental Bloc. Dozens of buildings, each looking as bland as the next, constructed completely out of concrete. It's stark, utilitarian and oppressive. Only the bolted-on metal signs denote the governmental body contained within the building... The only exception to the general trend of concrete, steel, and oppression is the Hall of Justice. The seat of Winterheart's power is one of the very few beautiful places in the Governmental Bloc, though it is not beautiful for its adornments and filigree--of which there are none--but rather for its stark, sleek, and spartan construction. It is a solid, powerful structure wrought of cold, pale stone, which hunkers in the midst of the Bloc like a pale bird of prey. Contents: Yurimaru Obvious exits: Parade Square Residential Sector Mortuary Grounds Rota Headquarters Military Base Hall of Justice With the destruction of the Hall Of Justice, there's not been anywhere near the flow of people in the government square that there usually is. At least, not the 'plain' people. Workers, on the other hand, have been working 24/7, trying to get the place back on its feet. Even with the loss of Priest of Roc, after all, they're wanting to get the other two Justices some support again, rather than having them meet in some dank, dark hovel. Plus, it's the whole principle of the thing, don't you know. Can't have Thunderbird tearing apart their government as easily as it tore apart the building... and the rest of the world. With Priest Of Roc gone, though, Yurimaru has been finding himself in a bit of a situation. Much like when Harth disappeared from the Dream, he was tossed into a position of... well, not all that much power. He still acts as Roc Priest's right-hand man, which does afford him respect, but that's about all that can be said. With no one to report to, it makes it considerably more difficult to get respect. Fortunately, Yurimaru has enough of his own power that he commands at least some respect, and can still hold his information-gathering. And right now, that's what he's doing: standing by, watching the building from a distance, thread held in his hand as he reports to one of the foreman who is gathering materials. Need a little of this, a lot of this, a smidgeon of this... and probably more people; those ones are looking like they're about to drop. No big loss. A few days of rest and recuperation--not that Setsuri likes to admit it for what it is, and not that the tiny bed in the hovel of an apartment they'd rented is all that restful or conducive to recuperation--and the undercover Knight is feeling rather better, despite everything that's happened. At least, her head isn't swimming, and she's no longer running at people attempting to kill them. Though one could always make an exception in particular cases, one supposes. Back on her feet, she's come wandering back to the governmental block out of a mingling of curiosity and a desire to gloat. Ha ha ha. Lookit the symbol of Winterheart's power, crushed--and with it, a large portion of the outer edges of the city. She's seen a sample of some of the surrounding city, but the heart of it... well, if she were the sort to snicker, she'd be doing so right now. Of course, she doesn't know about the corresponding destruction in Golden Hall, otherwise she'd likely be less smug about it. Pausing on the edge of the plaza, just within range to sense the hustle going around the workers, she tilts her head. Ah, the drones already hard at work reconstructing their hive. But without a Priest? She'd heard the whispers, and Roc's own anger had provided another clue... one supposes there are the other Justices, though. Her attention drifts away from the drones, to rest on the one standing off to the side, apparently doing nothing. But there's a thin thread of power running away from him, which is what really attracts her attention. Just a supervisor, or something more? Circumspectly, she drifts a little closer, trying to get a better fix on the man's aura. He's no priest. That's obvious enough. The aura is not one of divine power, so much as 'local power'. There's pride there, as well, if she can pick up the emotions rolling off him. Even working like this, the Peacock does appreciate himself and his power. The thread, itself, weaves its way through the streets, held by a man who is in the marketplace and gathering the objects needed. And Now and again, Yurimaru removes the thread from his mouth in order to call out to one of the workers, gesturing them away from the ruins with a, "No. Leave that for someone else. Work over this way instead; they need extra hands there." This sort of work isn't his usual duty, but if and when the Priest can be found... or is reborn from Roc's newest choice... Yurimaru at least knows that he has done his duty. The pride that rolls off him is promising, as is the way he's ordering the workers around--but not completely affirming. He could just be a petty bureaucrat, puffed up with his own importance and set to watch over the workers. Well, one never finds out anything without risking something. She has the vague sense, somewhere, that it's a little stupid, but the majority of her ignores that little niggling voice. Instead, she walks right up to Yurimaru boldly, and says, in her best 'I have an important yet secretive task' manner-- which doesn't look all that far from her usual serious expression--"I have a message. Who is in charge here?" Distracted from his directing, Yurimaru turns his head to glance at the woman who's walked up alongside him. The scorn that practically oozes off him would be nearly tangible to Setsuri's empathy at this range. Petty bureaucrat? Maybe. But certainly petty. Or at the very least, to someone like Setsuri. "If you mean in charge of the rebuilding, here, that would be me," he says, truthfully enough. He's not the foreman, but he's been given enough free reign to watch over and direct the efforts the peons-... er, workers have been putting out. "What is your message and who sent it? I will make certain it gets to the right place." There's no real kindness in his tone. Just a cool edge to it, quite happy to be finishing this discussion and going back to work. Her lip nearly curls back in response, but at the last moment, she restrains the sneer that wants to form. Instead, Setsuri simply gives him the coolest, slowest up-and-down look that she can manage, then lifts a brow when her gaze returns to what she hopes is more-or-less eye-level. She doesn't sneer, but there is just the faintest touch of disdain in her voice as she says, "And who are you, that I should give this message so easily to you? I am supposed to give it to one who can see that it reaches the Justices, and I doubt they would speak to a construction foreman." If nothing else, she pulls off the haughty real well. Haughty can meet haughty, then. Although Yurimaru's expression doesn't change, the aura around him shifts subtly, the scorn turning to match her emotion... or at least the seeming emotion... with ease. "I am Yurimaru," he says, his voice surprisingly patient for the emotion trickling off him. "I am the right-hand man of the Priest of Roc. And I still hold power in his stead." The priest may be gone, but Yurimaru's position isn't, as far as he's concerned. "Your message will reach the Justices as surely as if you had handed it to them yourself," he adds. A hand comes out, extended toward her, expecting if said message is a note to be handed it, apparently. Curls of peacock's power trickle around him, 'visible' to the aura- sensitive eyes even where to the rest of the world it's nothing more than a faint sensation, a heightening. Haughty, he is, and thus looking to add a bit of power on top of this little 'meeting'. Something as small as beauty can be amazingly effective against haughty women at times. And though Yurimaru has no interest in them, it amuses him to see them fawning or gazing hopefully. It turns into a wonderful feedback loop, then--haughty meets haughty feeds haughty and back again, until by the end of this conversation they might well turn each other into blocks of ice. If the winter wind doesn't do it first, that is. The name he gives affords the first real sense of success she's had in all this time--for she'd heard of him, having done her homework on the important officials in the city, and she doubts anyone would lay claim to that name lightly. He may not be the Priest of Roc himself, but given as that one is currently indisposed, he might be the closest one who'd know anything... and who watches the aide? Even if he didn't, he might be able to point to those who would. There's a moment of silence, as she processes the name and fights to keep the elation from showing on her face, before she dips her head in the slightest of nods. "Very well," she says. "Let us move somewhere more private, then." The implication being it was not the sort of message trusted to be written down-- such a thing could be taken, after all. She pauses in mid-turn as the flare of Peacock's power fans out around him--but to what purpose, she can't quite tell. It makes her slightly nervous, but as she cannot discern any threat, even if she can't discern a purpose, either, she ignores it for now and turns her back to stride away without another word. Best to appear confident and leave no room for questions like 'Where are we going?' and 'Why can't you tell it to me right now with everyone a good distance away?' Oh, Yurimaru could probably make a guess or two as to why it can't be done here in the open. More than one or two, really. In Winterheart? There's a rather large number of them. Enough that Yurimaru doesn't actually ask the 'why', so much as sigh lowly and turn to follow the woman. The thread of energy that had been run out disappears from his fingertips, dissolving off into nothing and 'spooling' itself back beneath his sleeves, ready just in case the woman should be foolish enough to try something. But the haughtiness is still there more than suspicion. If she does anything, he feels fairly sure that he can handle a woman. Whatever she might consider doing. The 'tail' doesn't vanish so easily, though. Of course, if Yurimaru realized how useless it was in this situation? ... er, yes. Wonderful. After their run of bad luck, Setsuri had begun to wonder if the gods were simply frowning on her, but they seemed to be doing better by her now... perhaps to do with Roc's absence? Though really, she shouldn't attribute it to any such superstition. She'll just take the opportunity and run with it. She hadn't exactly planned for this opportunity to come up, however, so it presents a bit of a difficulty. Fortunately, there's an abundance of narrow alleys choked or half-blocked with debris, after all the chaos that had occurred. It is toward one of those that Setsuri heads, squeezing through a narrow gap between a fallen I-beam supporting some of the debris up into the secluded alley. Just inside the entrance, she moves to the side and waits for Yurimaru to come through. Silently, she unsheathes the knife strapped to her leg. Once he does--if he does--she doesn't waste words, or actions, instead waiting for him to take a few steps in and out of sight from the alley mouth before swiftly striking at his temple with the pommel of the dagger. Ugh. This had better be good. Yurimaru's reaction to having to move through the choked-off entrance of the alley is unmistakably disgust. But he's willing to do it. However, Setsuri will find one thing: while he underestimates, he doesn't underestimate _so_ much as to let her get him so easily. Bandits, eh? Not a big surprise in Winterheart. The dagger's haft doesn't strike home very hard; Yurimaru is turning and with a sweep of one arm, catches the dagger with a loop of his thread, keeping it from knocking him out. If Setsuri could see his face, she would see that his cool expression has barely changed. However, her look into his emotions views the amusement he seems to find at being attacked this way by what _he_ views as a simple thief. "Unwise," he murmurs at Setsuri. But there's still openings in his stance. Openings that don't look to be faked, so much as genuine underestimation. Might have been expecting her to come after him, but he's not expecting her to come after him with _that_ much skill. Run away, Little Woman! Rather than respond to the single murmured word, Setsuri simply shakes her head at him. He would soon find out that she's a little more than the average thief, and right now she doesn't care to waste breath saying otherwise. The loop of thread catches her by surprise, however; when she'd spotted that fine thread of power, she hadn't expected it to be a physical thread. Such things are far too fine for her senses to catch, unless they're within her maximum sensitivity range of five to ten feet or so. With the thread, it might have to be even closer, considering its width. The dagger sails off to the side, pulled out of her hand by the loop, and clatters against the alley wall. She doesn't pause, not even to withdraw another weapon; in this confined space, they'd hurt more than help. Instead, Setsuri sails in, feinting an open-palmed blow toward his head, then continuing to move even closer to hook her right foot behind one of his and jab at his throat with her right elbow, intending to pivot him and push him down to the ground. Ah, he'd almost hoped that she'd keep hold of the dagger. He could have _really_ had some fun, then. Unfortunately, foolish (or in this case surprised) thing that she was, she apparently disarmed herself. Oh well. Just have to deal with things in the more-... ... eep? Smugness dissolves beneath a sudden wave of startled energy as Setsuri makes her move, his head snapping back enough to avoid the handprint on his pretty face, and leading right into the feint as she'd expected. The devil's throat is open for the blow, sending him staggering, and the woman's forceful grab and shove has the effect she'd been hoping for. Stunned by the pain and the sudden eruption of action from what he thought was a helpless woman, he's thrown down to the ground, gravel skidding and a chunk of metal pattering its way across the concrete. *OOF*. Probably a good thing she hadn't taken her usual arsenal with her today, then; still in her usual disguised clothes, but the armory-and-a-half is no longer strapped to her back. She has only the knife at her thigh--well, now on the ground--and a few more things hidden up her sleeves or in her coat, but nothing visible. Fortunately, it also keeps Yurimaru from getting stabbed by multiple pointy things. That's for later, see. As he drops to the ground, she follows up on the advantage, moving to straddle him and kneel with a knee on either elbow, then going to fasten her hands around his throat. She could strangle him until he drops unconscious, but in this case, it might be faster to simply bang his head against the ground until he passes out. Which she will certainly try. However, she doesn't account for his thread, or know of the fine control he has over it... And it's a pain in the ass to get fine control when one's being banged into the ground. But he does what he can, eyes slitting as he forces focus down his hands, unraveling one of the strands to try and wrap around one of the woman's arms. While it would be pleasant to go right for the throat, he's not so foolish as to think that he's going to manage to get something that delicate while he's having his face repeatedly kissing concrete. Anyway, it doesn't need to be tight. Just tight enough to hold on.... At the last moment, Setsuri senses the shimmer of power going for her arm. Just in time to begin to jerk her arm away--but too late to prevent it from being caught entirely. As it wraps around her wrist, she gives it another quick jerk away from Yurimaru, attempting to break it and hoping that that's enough length. She still tries to keep one hand on his throat, though, now resorting to leaning on the hand in an attempt to cut off airflow while she deals with the wire with her other hand. The thread is too strong to easily be broken with a pull, even as fine as it is. Though it won't slash into Setsuri's skin, it will feel sharp, like an assassin's garrote. And recognizing that it's being held, Yurimaru actually makes a smile, even as he audibly wheezes around that grip. Pinned as he is, he can't struggle free. But he can at least try to free himself with a good, strong shot of electricity through that wire. Which is exactly what happens: the power within him will be seen to gather and glow brilliantly to the eyes of the aura- sensitive before it's 'set off', though, if she's quick enough to be able to sever that wire. Tugging and pulling does little good, so finally Setsuri gives up on attempting to strangle him with one hand. Releasing his throat, she slips out a sharp little palm-knife from her sleeve, and slashes at the wire, at almost the same instant the power rises within him and surges down the wire. It's not enough to completely fry her, but the lingering jolt of electricity that passed between wire to knife hilt and thence to her hand is enough to knock her back, sparking faintly. Falling onto her back, she continues the motion, rolling on her back and over her shoulders to roll up to her feet again. She's still slightly woozy, and strands of her hair float up, attempting to separate from her body, but she can still move and her senses are still functioning more or less all right--so she goes back to the attack, visible eye narrowed as she attempts to launch a snap- kick to his face, whether he's still down or standing by this point. Her reflexes are a little slower than normal, though, thanks to the shock. And though the knife does help transmit the shock, it also cuts the wire off, severing it to lay on the ground in a helpless half-coil. That weapon left behind, Yurimaru rolls to the side, coughing a couple of times as he seeks air, trying to bring himself swiftly to his feet rather than getting himself caught still further. Unfortunately, the narrow alleyway is a disadvantage for that sort of movement; getting up nets him a kick, the foot impacting solidly with his cheek, sending a spatter of blood out from a split lip. The devil-ninja staggers several feet back from that hit, only barely managing to keep himself from inspecting the wound. He's on the defensive right now, and needless to say, he does _not_ appreciate this. Quickly, his other hand raises, unspooling the mystical thread, readying it to lash around the woman's throat. Dark enough, slim enough, that most people would have difficulty seeing it. Unfortunately, it _is_ raw power, so it certainly stands out to Setsuri. While he's still on the defensive, Setsuri presses her advantage. Swift and brutal and take him down before the noise of the scuffle attracts undue attention--at least, that's her hope. It's already taken longer than she would have liked. He's proven more difficult than she anticipated. But one supposes she should have expected him to be tougher than his slim build suggests--he wouldn't be the right hand of Roc's Priest otherwise. It probably wasn't for his looks, at least. Ironically, the mystical thread stands out much more strongly to her than the other thread, more visible to normal people--and since she doesn't have to be facing the thread to sense it, it makes itself known to her even sooner. As she completes the kick, she ducks under the coil of power that lashes toward her throat, and sliiides toward Yurimaru, seeking to regain close contact again where his threads are more limited than her hands and feet are. It's a simple slide, but hopefully it will bring her close enough to deliver three quick blows in succession, enhanced by a touch of chi: a palm strike to either knee and an upward punch toward his solar plexus. When caught in a situation like this, Yurimaru's usual instinct is either to attack with his on-hand weapons or to flee and ambush. Right now, there's no good room to flee thanks to the enclosed area, and his normal weapons seem to be more a disadvantage than an advantage in the eyes (such as they are) of Setsuri. In other words, Yurimaru's mostly doing his best to hold on, rather than putting on his best show of combat. A bit of a break! But not one that's long enough. He was preparing to make a leap for the roof up above him, the two-storey buildings low enough to make for at least some space. Unfortunately, those strikes to his knees knock him out of that idea, and the attack to his center sends him gasping again up against the wall rather than up and over it. This woman... is a hell of a fighter. Continuing her rise up that the successive strikes had led her into, Setsuri moves to press her forearm against the demon's throat--being of a height, it's a fairly simple maneuver. Reaching back with her other hand, she seeks to simply--well, punch out his lights. Then something, which has been niggling at the back of her mind, finally steps into the forefront of her consciousness waving red flags and doing an entire cheerleading routine. Perhaps it was the taint of Thunderbird and Roc in the area, perhaps it was the taint in herself where she'd gotten so used to Winterheart's normal aura that she hardly even notices it any more--whatever the reason, she didn't pick up on the fact that this was a demon until now. Well, that makes things easier, in some respects. As her punch sails in, she draws upon that aspect of her priestly powers that didn't desert her with Swan's forsaking of her for secrecy's sake--the one she'd held since long before coming into the Dream. Streaks of white light trail behind her swing as a glow envelopes her fist; with the punch is transmitted a burst of holy energy, flashing into whatever it hits. At first, Yurimaru's hand is coming up, ready to help block that fist off, aiming to try and fight his way out even if his knees are killing him right about now. No. You're not getting me that easily. I am going to take you down, fry you like the little bitch you a-... Everything goes to hell (or rather, heaven) when that flare of holy energy blossoms around Setsuri's fist, however, and the punch is slammed inward toward the demon's body. Yurimaru shrieks like a woman as the pain of that magic hits him, a great deal of the fight suddenly taken out of him as skin sears and robes part threadbare underneath the attack. His hands which were reaching to try and fight Setsuri off are instead coming up to shield his bloodied face, doing his best to keep that part intact, at least, even as his body starts to slump with a mixture of pain and induced weakness. That... was a rather large 'ouch'. Whatever moral flaws and failings Setsuri may have now, however ruthless she may have gotten, she still is a priestess and knows how to call upon those powers... and she hasn't yet gotten to the point of tainting that power with contracts with the underworld. Although it's debatable if there is a proper underworld here. Her lips strength in a thin smile, all she permits herself by way of exultation, as the holy energy crackles through the devil. She's not done yet, though--and she's going to keep abusing this newfound advantage until it gets her what she wants. Pulling back, she chops with one hand toward the side of his head, then chops with the other toward his neck, swift and hard and laced with holy power. Nothing too great in one blow, and hopefully nothing to overload his system and accidentally kill him--she still needs him alive to question him, after all. Just enough to rattle his brains and render him unconscious. Strike after strike, with Yurimaru unable to gather his wits enough to return a lash, neither physical nor with the threads wound and caught within his sleeves. About all he can do is make a weak attempt or two to press Setsuri back, and they aren't effective, thanks to the energy that she wields on him. Soon enough, Setsuri's got her wish: a final strike alongside his neck sends him crumpling to the ground, and this time, the energy flow in his body is ebbed much lower. Either badly injured, unconscious, or both of them. Oh my. Look at the pretty birdies... /Finally./ It would be a lie to say that's the only reaction Setsuri has as Yurimaru's spirit finally sinks to the lower levels that indicate unconsciousness, but that is a large part of it. Some of it is a touch of relief, but a large part of it is, well, happiness. She's about as happy as she's been since she first came here--because /finally/ she has a lead (sort of), and /finally/ there's something active she can do, and /finally/ he's down for the count. Now there's just the issue of how to get him out without looking completely suspicious. Again with the lack of planning--she doesn't have anything cooked up for this. The best she can do, really, is swiftly bind his arms and legs with a cord she pulls from beneath her coat, then pick him up, give him a few swings, then toss him up to the roof-top with a surge of chi powering her arms. Another surge to her feet, and she sails up to land on the roof next to him, then picks him up, throws him over her shoulder, and begins to trot away. It's awkward and bulky, but not impossible--and the rooftops, at least, tend to have fewer watchers. With the fall of evening, it should be even harder to track. Or so she hopes. Worst comes to worst, she can question him quickly and then dispose of him. Almost humming in pleasure, she continues onward, back to the room.