SHE DOES REALISE THERE'S SOMETHING OF A WAR GOING ON, DOESN'T SHE?
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THE OFFICE DOOR CREAKED OPEN, and its corresponding key was manoeuvred out from inside the slot. A low growl emanated from behind Sherman as the door slid itself shut against the mahogany floor. Plush violet curtains drawn, tiered lock system engaged, Takuto Hebi had engineered his resting conditions yet again, as he did on a near biweekly basis. Sherman patted her shirt to ensure the purpose-built crooked and jagged key, capable of disengaging the overlapping lock mechanism the Council Member had had crafted for his office, hadn't landed anywhere but her pocket. A vast number of years worth of experience informed her ability to move in utter silence, despite knowing full well how heavily her superior slept. It was a useful skill to have, and her time working here had left her with ample opportunities to sharpen it. In the crook of her left arm sat a moderate stack of papers to be examined by the Angel Council Member. Some of them for strictly his eyes only, some of them correspondences from around Pavane, and some of them bureaucratic fluff that would be returned to Sherman for her to look over instead. The adviser rested them on his desk nevertheless.
Checking her wristwatch, Sherman snapped to look at the imposing grandfather clock in the corner. She'd read the time correctly and neither timekeeping device was incorrect: Takuto Hebi would be waking soon. This situation had only happened a handful of times and even then, all occurrences had been hundreds of years ago. A- Amy Faye had caught Sherman off-guard in the hall earlier and struck up a conversation, delaying the Angel from keeping with her routine delivery of the week's duties to her sleeping superior's office. There was no penalty or punishment to worry about, it was simply a point of pride of Sherman's to keep with routine, routine being 'in the nick of time'. Her shoe tapped on the rug as she contemplated waiting for him to wake from his week-long 'dream journey', as she teasingly called his sleeping habit. Something resisted the sole of her dress shoe. Ah, one of Sherman's fountain pens had rolled to her, clearly scarred by disuse. Months of it, she determined as the angel recalled just how long ago she had lent him this particular pen.
The adviser took a seat in one of the luxurious upholstered chairs he had decorating his office. Sherman pondered if he remembered Amy picking out a lot of the furniture for the Council Members' offices during a lull in activity. The grandfather clock wouldn't have been so out of character for her superior to have brought it in personally, she thought. Sherman watched its pendulum swing, patient.
Time ticked by, a couple seconds longer than it should have been. The clock ought to be readjusted, for the Angel stirred 12 seconds off beat. However, each and every clock encountered the same issue.
A personalized chair stretched out to form his makeshift bed, the room too dark to view its true hue. He had no sheet nor blanket on top of him, although the chair had a built-in pillow to support his sleep habits.
Rising from wake, a hand brushed an insane amount of greased bangs away from his face as he shifted upright.
"Damn twins."
He muttered, shakily fixing himself upright. Shuffling over to a window, he steadily allowed for light to be cast in from the plush violet curtains.
"Sherman,"
Turning his head to the illuminated other, he stiffened a yawn as his groggy voice echoed.
"Update?"
A hand rose almost immediately, trying to pause whatever tangent the secretary was surely about to go on with.
SHE DOES REALISE THERE'S SOMETHING OF A WAR GOING ON, DOESN'T SHE?
❝
"AH, I'M AFRAID NOT, SIR." said Sherman, rising from her seat. "I can look into that further later in the day, if you wish. What I do have for you however is related to the reported sightings you'd asked for."
She gestured at the stack of papers she'd laid on his desk and pointed out an orange-coloured folder in the middle of the 'bureaucratic fluff' section.
"The files were not easy to collate but they are all there." The adviser shifted about in her chair, anxious to see how he'd react. It was rare for any Council Member, let alone Takuto, to request such commonplace filings. Witch sightings were filed so often that the vast majority of reports are left investigated. In recent memory, someone in Middle Pavane claimed there was a witch behind their wardrobe. It turned out to simply be some mold.
Disappointment crossed his features at the answer Sherman gave towards his wife. He sighed, expecting it, yet accepting it.
As Sherman gestured to the stack of papers, he started towards them, stumbling a bit in the process. Sleep continued to act as a drug to his senses, yet he fought the feeling off as he had always done. Pages flipped and shifted before him, sluggishness disappearing in the process.
"I see. Thank you,"
Had he absolute trust in his advisor, he might have explained further. Alas, no one on the council was truly trustworthy-- not anymore. Even as long as Sherman had worked in the office, there was still a bit of distance between the two. Had he only known of her antics with Amy.
After fixing the report back into a neat pile, he rummaged around his pockets searching for his desk key.
"I'll go over the rest of the contents at a later time."
Carefully transporting the stack into the drawer of his desk, he quickly shut and locked it, tucking the key away once more.
"Hmm... I suppose I'll help you with a stack of paperwork before breakfast. What other matters need to be attended to?"
Last Edit: May 18, 2020 22:09:46 GMT -5 by Takuto Hebi
SHE DOES REALISE THERE'S SOMETHING OF A WAR GOING ON, DOESN'T SHE?
❝
Sherman smiled softly. "I've nothing on my docket I can't handle on my own but if you're offering, I can't really turn down assistance, can I?" Her mind just barely off humourous misconceptions regarding mold, the angel thought to herself if there was anything else that required his express attention. "Ms. Faye had gone ahead with the public execution of the Ghoul Uprising ringmaster. She'd said she'd already collected your approval on the matter so I didn't ask further. I have approximate location updates for certain persons of interest, but honestly nothing new enough to re-ignite suspicions." Sherman thumbed through a small notepad she kept perpetually in her jacket pocket.
"I don't believe I've missed anything. In other news, the Lunar Theatre seems to be gearing up in a big sort for its newest production, could be a nice occasion for you and the missus. Rather slow week, otherwise. Perhaps fortunately? Can I get you something to drink, sir?" she asked.
No news was good news-- though doubt was ever present. Plenty was left to be taken care of, even if urgency lacked.
"Water."
He rubbed at his throat, dryness only irritating him after Sherman's offer.
"Although I'll have to check with my wife before scheduling any tickets to the theatre. Last I recall the titles for their performances were as boring as they come, and the initial costumes have much to be desired."
Hovering above his desk, he leaned over to jot down an illegible list of objectives. Mid-way through, he briefly paused.
"In any case,"
His writing continued, his eyes still following the glide of his pen.
"Maybe we can help the other council members, considering how our affairs are in line. What has Amy been up to, besides public and private executions? It can wait until I've got some water, though."
SHE DOES REALISE THERE'S SOMETHING OF A WAR GOING ON, DOESN'T SHE?
❝
"Here you are, sir," the angel placed a porcelain cup filled with water on the desk of her superior. Sherman adjusted her necktie before addressing his questions. "Right you are, sir. I've been in communication with Mr. Ankokku already regarding rendering any administrative assistance the Vampire Wing may require. As for Ms. Faye, I'm not wholly sure as to her present objectives. I believe she was seen entering the Prison Complex earlier, likely not for interrogation purposes if I may speculate." Sometimes Sherman wondered if she kept too stony a face on when on the job. "Nevertheless, when I had asked previously, it seemed that the Demon Wing was perfectly capable of handling their duties for the week, including these." The angel removed a small wrapped bundle from the stack and untied its bindings. "New bounty and wanted posters, this was another thing they requested you inspect, should you find any persons of interest missing from this new batch, sir."
"With regards to the theatre, I've actually not been able to attend any of their more recent productions. Hanyang speaks highly of their upcoming plans though." she concluded.
Graciously taking the cup off the table, he downed it as Sherman continued with her report. He listened intently, though her answers seemed to annoy him. It clearly wasn't what he wanted to hear, and it had seemed like they, again, gave him nothing but busywork. Rather typical of the council, yet they knew exactly what he was capable doing within a week of sentience.
"Thank you for that information. I'll finish the bounties and have you deliver them in an hour, give or take. After that, I'll be taking leave to my workshop. You have a pass to Yggdrasil, I assume?"
He cut off his own thoughts and turned to his rather short compilation of work to be done. For having slept a whole week, he would have plenty of time to catch up on other matters beyond the Council. Likely what they would prefer, anyways.
"And unless the topic is urgent, let only my wife know where I'll be staying for the next week."
Immediately, he started on the list of bounties, scanning over each name and face with precision and haste.
SHE DOES REALISE THERE'S SOMETHING OF A WAR GOING ON, DOESN'T SHE?
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Sherman dipped her head with a proper nod. "Of course, sir. Happy to help, sir. My Yggdrasil pass is indeed still up-to-date. As for everyone else, information remains on a strictly as-ordered basis, sir." Sherman gave a polite smile, reassuring her superior of her confidentiality. The angel wondered if she'd receive any update from her superior's wife. Perhaps she'd check the mailroom once more. Maybe a correspondence had been misplaced.
Sherman contemplated her remaining tasks for the day. There was this event to attend to tomorrow, and then this investigation to facilitate that same evening. Most everyone seemed to be on edge, at least a little bit still, but slowly the return of a fairly standard workflow indicated to the angel that perhaps Pavane would return to business as usual, provided the investigation not turn up anything too unsavoury, she huffed to herself.
Living in a dystopian society, seven mystic races are trapped due to their own selfishness. Tensions rise between the races and the different social classes, leading up to the constant struggle for power, with no end in sight.
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4/11 - With the Ghoul Purge complete, Pavane's fear shifts from the goddesses towards the Council. Check out the aftermath here to get an understanding of the current situation in the plot.
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