An Uncanny Invitation [Etreven/Jean/Invite]

[Etreven]

March 1st,
12:15PM
Greyscale Fortress
Stygian Tundra

The frigid air was filled with the sounds of activity and construction all around.  Hammers and saws vying for sound space against more organic and discomforting sounds.  Etreven stood in the middle of what would eventually be a great war room as he surveyed the crews around him.  It had been difficult to find skilled labor in a place like Inferis.  More difficult still to determine how best to motivate demons and the ritualists bound to them to perform the sort of menial, earthbound tasks he so desperately required completed.  And yet here he was standing in a hell he'd not been sure had existed in the ruined hull of a fortress overseeing the construction of a center of operations that would lead to the death of an arch demon.  It was strange to think about, in a detached way, how quickly the scale of his plans had changed.

For a very long time, he'd known that Ymir wanted something very badly.  Something the great demon believed only Etreven (or someone like minded, for he had no illusions regarding Ymir's loyalties) could deliver.  But they had spent many years in partnership before he'd learned the truth, and even knowing the fantastic was not enough to create abject acceptance of it.  Nonetheless, plans were even now unfolding and the cacophony around him spoke volumes regarding the pacing of those plans.

So far this war room had progressed substantially from the iron and stone hull it had been at the start.  He'd managed to create a space that retained a sense of gravitas, a place that spoke of someone capable of executing big plans.  If everything fell into place, this would be where the real arrangements would be made, and he could not afford to look underprepared.  The large conference table could easily seat thirty people, and although there were only two chairs for now it was certainly a start.  He would have to do something about the cold though…

At the moment though it was nearly time for a rather interesting appointment.  A rare few ritualists had the sense of…moral authority he needed for the moment.  And this one seemed to have promise, both in outlook and in skill.  The time had come for more precise tools, and he believed Jean La Croix could be one of them.

Lunch had been prepared and Etreven had made it a point to know his guest.  It was a cajun spread, simple food with a kick.  Two sets of po'boys, fried shrimp and blackened catfish along with a buck of steamed crawfish and a pitcher of an indistinguishable opaque red liquid he was told was called a "Hurricane".  If the gentleman in question was as punctual as he expected him to be, it wouldn't be long at all now.  With Ymir pacing the rear of the room uncomfortably, he took a seat at the far end of the table at one of the two available chairs and waited for the announcement.  The board was ready for the next move.

[Jean La Croix]

There was something about the Tundra that spoke to the primal aspects of Jeans already bestial soul. It was a place where one had to fight with tooth and claw to survive, where even the most innocuous of beasts was more then capable of killing you. And while other realms boasted creatures both fierce and deadly... None could claim creatures as titanic as those that dwelt there in the untouched snow of the tundra. It was here that the cycle of predation was at its finest, and the higher up the food chain one got the bigger the creatures became, tell finally one came to the gargantuan Moloch who was and had always been the undisputed ruler of this wide, white and deadly wasteland of snow and ice. In fact, to consider the prince of Wrath as the strongest of the Archdemons aside from Lucifer him self would not be  a mistake, as no other demon had defined earth more then he who had called an ice age and laughed as he saw what little of humanity their was struggle to exist. And when asked if the world would end in ether fire or ice... Well the answer was simple for Jean, Ice would encase the world and Moloch would at last be sated... At least for a time.

Still, there was a primal beauty to this land of wind and snow and though it was not something every individual would see, it was as plane as day light to the Cajun. In fact he found it akin to his native swamp land for what ever reason, maybe it had something to do with the sheer vastness of that endless expanse and the unending white dunes. More then likely though it was just because he felt at home while he was so utterly alone.These thoughts and many more flooded Jeans wolfish mind as he raced from one identical valley to another, traveling ever on ward in his search for what he could only term one hell of an invitation. The black furred beast stood out like a soot stain on a wedding dress as he moved forward, in great leaps and bounds he covered that desolate country and while he knew he past beast after nightmarish beast none tried to stop him in his headlong some would say reckless rush. And while he may have been reckless in his speed he could not bring him self to care. It where the times like this that he felt truly and positively free which was a rarity.

Then with a suddenness that would have surprised most individuals he was there. And while it looked nothing like the Castle Grey Skull... He felt as if the name fit. Though he doubted he would be meeting any of the masters in this far off fortress, but He-Man was a definite possibility. The creature that was both man and wolf split in two, and standing in its place where the sum of that greats beasts parts. Jean of course, looked as he always did in such places and that was to say decidedly uncivilized. Dressed as he was in what could only be called huntsman leathers that where worn with age as well as use. And while his hair was not something one would expect from a wild man, his brown mane was far from tame. The wolf at his side on the other hand made the man seem as if he could be at home in a court room.

The monster was over five feet at the shoulder, and longer then most men where tall. Its great head looked this way and that, and while its muzzle was closed any fool could imagine the dagger sharp fangs that made their home there. It's fur while shaggy was well groomed and glossy in the afternoon sunlight. As one both Jean's and Fenrir's nostrils flared and they breathed in the scents that wafted out from the fortresses front gate and as one both grinned in their own way. Lunch it seemed, was served. Fallowing their noses both Jean and his partner made their way through the winding grey stone halls that reminded them both of the castles of old, and while they seemingly ignored the men and monsters that they passed every now and then they made note of their presence. With silent footsteps they walked into what they could only guess was a meeting hall of shorts, with table chairs and all. And sitting in one of the chairs was the one that had called for this meeting. But of greater importance, at least to Jean was the spread set out on the table. At least this man had some sort of manners. "Naw if ya called me here ta seduce me well, ya be doing one hell of a job!" The great wolf circled Jean once then sat down silently eyeing both the unknown man and the demon that paced behind him. "Though I have ta warn ya, I bite." His tone was both warm and friendly, though his red wolfish eyes held a hard if inquisitive look.

[Etreven]

The funny thing about constructing your base of operations inside an abandoned fortress in the middle of a hellish tundra?  It was just as hard for your allies to reach you as your enemies.  There were always tradeoffs to be made when lofty ambitions needed achieving, but this was a choice Etreven was glad to have made.  As a staging grounds for an impossible war, home bases didn't get much better.  Still, as the man made his entrance Etreven almost felt the tiniest twinge of guilt for the trek he knew full well it took to arrive at this place.  Almost.  The man looked no worse for wear, considering his predilection for a rather wild personal aesthetic.  Considering the demon at his side, it was clear that this man's outer demon matched nicely to his inner demons.  Still, he was without question the right recruit.  Conflicted, powerful, malleable.  And with just enough self righteousness to want to try to do some good.

Terrible qualities in a leader, but brilliantly useful for Etreven's current purposes.  "Naw if ya called me here ta seduce me well, ya be doing one hell of a job!  Though I have ta warn ya, I bite."  Jean La Croix, that was the man's name.  He cycled through the details in his head quickly, letting information guide his demeanor.  He built his face into the warm host, the politician, the leader.  It was an illusion as ever, but utterly convincing.  He took in the accent of his guest and chewed it in his mind for a moment.  Creole had a way of breaking into vowels at the strangest moments and though he understood the speech clearly enough, the accent was difficult to mirror.  He made a quiet mental note to spend more time speaking to this man, the lessons in dialect would be worth the effort.

Etreven stood from his seat and bowed shallowly before speaking.  "Ah, but that's precisely why I've invited you here Mr. La Croix.  What good is a wolf with no bite anyway?  And speaking of bites, please feel free to have one.  We're still in the process of making this place…comfortable.  But one cannot receive a guest without a proper kitchen, and so that at least is at our disposal.  I do hope the food is to your liking," he spoke, gesturing in the general direction of the spread before him.  "I'm afraid I was forced to make an educated guess as to what your tastes might be."

Returning to his seat, he let the warm smile fall a bit as his manner took up the tone of business.  "Please make yourself comfortable, there is much to discuss."

[Jean La Croix]

Jean smelled a rat. Not a literal rat of course(The fortress was remarkably clean all things told), but something about this man just put Jean on edge. But why was the question? The mans body language was friendly, his mannerisms refined and for all intents and purposes he appear seemed to be an upstanding individual. Only problem was, all this put together made him seem to decent. And while he hit each and every cue just about perfectly, from the way he stood to the set of his eyes... It all seemed rehearsed. Then again, it could just be that he was reading to much into this entire situation. After all this could have just been a friendly lunch invitation... In the middle of no where... In a fortress that seemed ready for war. Ya, it was but a simple lunch meeting... Right. Oddly enough, he wasn't put on edge by this behavior having seen it on various other occasions and while it was most often seen in serial killers of various sorts, Jean was more then willing to give this mystery man a chance. And if it turned out that this was some sort of elaborate trap for god knows what reason... Well he felt sure that he could manage to get out with little to no harm to him self. Then again, maybe not. But that was a risk one had to take when you walked into a dark and foreboding fortress

"Ah, but that's precisely why I've invited you here Mr. La Croix.  What good is a wolf with no bite anyway?  And speaking of bites, please feel free to have one.  We're still in the process of making this place…comfortable.  But one cannot receive a guest without a proper kitchen, and so that at least is at our disposal.  I do hope the food is to your liking," Blink. that was the only possible reaction to such statements as well as the bow, that was not something he saw often,"I'm afraid I was forced to make an educated guess as to what your tastes might be. Jean made his way forward, but the great wolf stayed where it was and eyed the common area with what could only be called disdain. It seemed as if the old wolf was not a huge fan of the complex, though that almost went with out saying as he hated. Pulling out the only other seat the Cajun eyed the spread and then his host. "Well I think ya got it down jus fine, though a mans gotta wonder why you go through so much trouble ta get inta my pants." Humor was his only recourse at that moment and he took great solace in that. "Oh names Jean, but I'm more then half way sure ya know that already."

With that he holds out his hand and offers a smile that's full of pointed teeth. "I didn't catch what ta call you, or should I jus go on a head and make something up?" As playful as he was being you had to wonder if he was ever serious.

[Etreven]

When executing a complex and multifaceted plan, one always had to account for error.  For miscalculation.  Provide space in the act for improvisation.  Because no matter how good your character is, no one believes an actor that isn't ready to roll with the punches.  Etreven was no stranger to dealing with perceptive or sensitive individuals, and sometimes you just had to run with the leads you had if you didn't want to avoid the hooks catching the wrong fish.

"Well I think ya got it down jus fine, though a mans gotta wonder why you go through so much trouble ta get inta my pants."  Etreven laughed at the comment, a natural sounding laugh but delivered perhaps just a split second too late.  Jean had more of a sense of humor than his professional file had indicated, and comic timing was sadly not Etreven's strongest point.  The big question was whether or not the humor was a defense mechanism or an indication of comfort.  It felt more like he was on guard, but it was unwise to jump to conclusions without more experience to back it up.  He let it fall without comment.  "Oh names Jean, but I'm more then half way sure ya know that already."

Etreven returned the handshake, "Indeed I do.  It was in fact a mutual acquaintance in the FBI who brought your name to my attention, but we can discuss that after you've had a chance to eat.  Apologies again for the location, it's somewhat difficult to plan an assault on an archdemon from an easily accessible location."  Hopefully that was bait worth following.  The trick was to put forward enough information to keep him interested but not enough to scare him off.  But Ymir in particular had wanted this one, and the demon most certainly had a knack for assessing talent.

"I didn't catch what ta call you, or should I jus go on a head and make something up?"  Yes, Jean was definitely on guard, but that wasn't an insurmountable obstacle by any stretch of the imagination.  A few more steps before the trust fall.  "You can call me Etreven, Mr. La Croix.  And welcome to the home of the Greyscale Insurgency."

[Jean La Croix]

A handshake can tell you a lot about a man. In fact Jeans grandfather used to say that a handshake was as good as groping the other mans soul. And in his experience, his grandfather as always was right. And what did this mans firm grip tell him? Well it told him he worked out for one, and for two... This was a person who was firm in their convictions. Which in this day and age was something of a rare thing. Of course basing your opinion of a person solely off of gut feelings and touching was not something any person of intelligence did.

"Indeed I do.  It was in fact a mutual acquaintance in the FBI who brought your name to my attention, but we can discuss that after you've had a chance to eat.  Apologies again for the location, it's somewhat difficult to plan an assault on an archdemon from an easily accessible location." Now that little tid bit of information would have caused most men to at least blink, if not just stare stupidly at the one that had issued such an insane statement. "You can call me Etreven, Mr. La Croix. And welcome to the home of the Greyscale Insurgency." "Ah well, can' have evra thing in a place ya know? If it has a great view its in a bad parta town, if its defensible its a bitch ta get to. Jus the trade off there ya know? So long as the foods good though I think I can for give ya for the long walk and weather". Jean had something of a gift for gab, and right now it served him well. He needed time to think, because this individual had just given him more information then he him self knew what to do with.

Not only did this Etreven have some sort of informant in the FBI (that prospect alone was enough to cause worry.) but it seemed that he wanted to take on one of the mythical lords of Inferis, beings whos power was said to rival that of any god on earth or in heaven... And whats more he wanted to rope him into this suicidal mission. Still it was best not to let a predator see you sweat. That being the case he reached out and started to fill his plate slowly as he spoke. " Oh ya'know someone in the office? Let me guess, Its Bicslow isn't it? The man just can't stop talkin once ya get a drink or two in him." Friendly conversation was at times the best way to draw out information, and currently thats exactly what he needed. "By the by, this catfish is positively divine. Makes mah smile on the inside and out.... Though it could do with a lil bit more heat if ya catch my drift." Pausing for a second he reaches out and pours him self a drink before getting back to his rather onesided tangent. "In fact ya gotta tell your chef that he did a stand up job, ya hear? Given what hes gotta be working with in this castle its nothin' short'of'a mircle that he'she'it can manage somethin this tasta. Taking a drink Jean lets out a sigh and sets the glass back down. "Naw please, what did ya say about this grey Whats it?" He looks over at his partner as if asking a question then turns back around. " Greyscale? Naw i gotta tell you I already gotta a good payin job, not really looking for any other work righ now. Un;ess of course you can set me up with some sort of dental plan, gotta get me one of them."

[Etreven]

Small talk tells you a lot about the person you're speaking to.  It tells you how quickly they think on their feet, how much they're paying attention to what you're saying, it tells you more about their manners and modes of address, it even tells you how much they seem to enjoy small talk (which is in itself a surprisingly effective personality barometer.)  This was no exception.  In this case, most telling was the fact that, despite the rather gargantuan truth he'd set Jean up against, he was choosing small talk.  He'd already shown himself to be a man of humor with a wild streak and he was aware from research just how skilled the man was as a detective and hunter.  But now he knew that the task he intended scared Jean.  It wasn't a superficial fear, it seemed more a sense of impossibility.  Something no one could accomplish and therefore no one would be stupid enough to attempt (and therefore discuss).

That statement had become an elephant in their meeting room.

And it told Etreven a very great deal.  "Ah well, can' have evra thing in a place ya know? If it has a great view its in a bad parta town, if its defensible its a bitch ta get to. Jus the trade off there ya know? So long as the foods good though I think I can for give ya for the long walk and weather."  At this Etreven smiled, an amused smile.  He took on the joker's demeanor the man wore like armor and retorted, "Truth be told I'm reasonably certain all of Inferis constitutes the bad part of town.  I'd be more curious what the good part looks like!"  A light chuckle followed, perfect timing, right where it should have been.  Natural.  The cracks had been shorn up.  And now Jean was busy working on the food before him.  The distraction was useful, and like mirroring a person's facial expressions helped create a bond, he'd found food could be equally effective.

"Do try the shrimp when you get the chance, it's a particular favorite of mine."  The man began his questions quickly, "Oh ya'know someone in the office? Let me guess, Its Bicslow isn't it? The man just can't stop talkin once ya get a drink or two in him."  Etreven shook his head briefly, face dropping into its more natural, neutral expression as he deflected without sharing anything useful, "Which is exactly why I avoid alcohol like the plague.  Truth be told, I'd be a yammering mess myself if I so much as touched the stuff."  And then the impact of the food began, much as anticipated.  "By the by, this catfish is positively divine. Makes mah smile on the inside and out.... Though it could do with a lil bit more heat if ya catch my drift.  In fact ya gotta tell your chef that he did a stand up job, ya hear? Given what hes gotta be working with in this castle its nothin' short'of'a mircle that he'she'it can manage somethin this tasta."

Etreven grinned, taking a bite of shrimp himself.  None of the food was to his taste.  Then again nothing really was.  More often than not he was capable of sustaining himself on nothing but an endless supply of tea and crackers, but meals were part of the intelligence gathering industry so he knew well how to approach them.  "You'd be surprised to know that our chef has something of an aversion to extremely spicy food.  I find it particular ironic given he's a demon.  Really you'd expect heat would be part of his blood after all.  But still I'll make sure I give him your compliments, I know he worked hard to meet my request for our meeting this afternoon."

He folded his hands in front of them as Jean finally got around to the right question and the next lynchpin in their discussion.  "Naw please, what did ya say about this grey Whats it?  Greyscale? Naw i gotta tell you I already gotta a good payin job, not really looking for any other work righ now. Un;ess of course you can set me up with some sort of dental plan, gotta get me one of them."  The look shared between the man and his demon didn't go without notice, but was ultimately not terribly concerning.  Now it was time for words.

"Yes, I have been drawing towards me an organization of…shall I call them like minded individuals?  We are collectively The Greyscale Insurgency.  And truth be told, it's not a job I offer you.  It's partnership.  You see, the glue that binds us together is simple.  We seek an Inferis freed from the yolk of Archdemon rule.  We seek to unchain ourselves from the arbitrary whims of so called greater beings.  We seek equality for all demons and those under their protection.  And while I can't offer you dental coverage, I think the security we'll all have should we be successful is worth the risk.  Some of this you know already, but the truth of our goal is the annihilation of the archdemons.  And thanks to our members and allies, I think we might just a shot at making this happen."  He exhaled slowly and maintained eye contact with the man.  Now it was simply a matter of waiting for his response.

[Jean La Croix]

(OOC: Sorry its short >_< Wanted to post quickly!)

Jean let the man speak, absorbing each and ever word as it came to his ear and still his small smile and keen eyes did not waiver, nor did they move from this mans face. Truth be told he more then half expected this Etreven to stop all of a sudden and proclaim to the world around them that he Jean La motherfucking Croix was on candid camera. Sadly he was not on Inferis's new reality T.V. sensation, and demons holding cameras did not descend from the rafters and in fact it turned out that this man was more then a tad bit insane. He, wanted him to sign up with and work for some sort of demonic civil rights group? He wanted him to risk his life for the liberties of creatures that murdered, plundered and raped as a matter of course? And whats more he wanted him to take on beings that had risen up(Supposedly) against capital g God? Beings that had powers and abilities that made his own impressive skills seem like nothing more then paltry magic tricks? With out blinking he continued to eat the minor feast that was put out before him, enjoying the heat and decadence of the food with what could only be called a wistful smile. Good food was good food and nothing so trivial as a suicidal maniac was going to keep him from it.

Bringing his glass to his lips Jean took a long pull of the drink letting the cool liquid roll over his tongue before swallowing. " My grand-père was a smart man, in fact he may well have been the smartest man I ever did know and like most old smart men he said more then a few things. And you wanna know what he would say right here right naw?" Taking a nothing drink Jean then set the glass down and began to stir the liquid still contain with in in a slow circular motion. " He would say, Gardez-vous des faux prophètes. or'in English,  Beware of the false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, and inwardly are ravening wolves."Letting go of the straw and resting his hands on the table Jean, smile still on his face, 'And let me tell ya sir I happen to know a thing or two about wolves." No human, no matter how noble nor misguided would give a damn about the so called plight of demons. They where in hell, in Inferis to suffer and suffer they did. It was their punishment for their wrong doings, so Jean knew deep down that any creature demon or otherwise that aspired to be the Martin Luther King Jr. of the demonic populace was in it for more then the fuzzy feeling they would get for fighting such an injustice. "Ya get my meaning thar Etreven?" Dropping his gaze then he went calmly back to eating, this time sampling the shrimp that his host had so graciously provided.

[Etreven]

Etreven stared across the table, watching the cajun in front of him dig into the feast before him.  Watched him carefully as he took a long, slow drink from his glass.  Watched him open his mouth.  "My grand-père was a smart man, in fact he may well have been the smartest man I ever did know and like most old smart men he said more then a few things. And you wanna know what he would say right here right naw?"  Etreven sat patiently, paying careful attention to the man's motions, his deliberate positioning, the timing of his words.  The gentleman before him had a point he thought he had to make, to be certain, and he was going to deliver it in all its idiosyncratic glory.  " He would say, Gardez-vous des faux prophètes. or'in English,  Beware of the false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, and inwardly are ravening wolves."

The smiling was telling, as chosen and false as his own smiles but with less preternatural disposition to hide such falsity.  Truthfully it was tiring, but natural in this particular exchange.  A move in the dance one could simply not skip.  "And let me tell ya sir I happen to know a thing or two about wolves.  Ya get my meaning thar Etreven?"

He did in fact get the meaning.  Very clearly.  He was suspicious by nature, a very useful character trait in an investigator.  It was an instinct that served him well, and at the end of the day if he was going to earn the trust of this man it would be specifically because he had found his own suspicions to be unfounded.  Because Etreven had managed to convince him that his doubts were self facing, that the frequency with which he externalized his personal negativity did not in fact reflect reality, that presupposing judgement was not always a viable plan.  He'd have been right, of course, but that was beside the point.  Breaking down a right answer was much the same as breaking down a wrong one.

He adopted a look of moderate disappointment, eyes locking very directly on the cajun in front of him.  He wanted to make it clear that he understood and found the man's conclusions tragic.  Not wrong, not laughable, just sad.  Body language helped in communicating these things.  A beat or two passed and Etreven finally responded, "Sadly I do get your meaning.  And I've dealt with such cynicism before.  The question is only a matter of why."

He stood and began to walk slowly around the long table, eyes turned up towards the ceiling, still under renovation.  There was no true concern, just an understanding that this was a game that needed playing.  Pure truth was useless to this one, he needed his own moral needs stroked, his feelings of guilt over the sins of his past.  He truly believed demons deserved their fate.  It was hilarious, when he considered how much importance the man placed on chance.  It was always possible that his files were missing information, but no...that was the right angle...

He shook his head as he paced slowly and spoke "Existence at large is a chaotic place.  An arbitrary place.  I have seen the plans of angels and demons play out to no discernible ends, I have fought alongside the damned and watched as they attempted to redeem their past and failed gruesomely, miserably.  I have seen the blessed sneer at the weak and the damned extend aid to the needy.  No, there are no prophets, there is no predicting this world.  There is only the struggle to survive it.  And one cannot survive this place alone, and at the top of the struggle to survive?  An uplifted few exert their arbitrary will against the efforts of all.  No!"  He practically shouted as he stepped closer to Jean, staring intensely as he continued.  "I will not stand idly by and allow my existence to be dictated by the whims of those who deem themselves greater than all.  They are not beyond harm and I will see them undone!"  With that he receded somewhat, returning to that sad smile as he looked away from Jean.

"There are no prophets.  Just a will to live.  The choice is yours friend, fight with us or go your own way.  I cannot make you trust me, but I know you understand the value of strength in numbers."

[Jean La Croix]

Let the man speak pup. The voice in his mind rang as clear as a crystal bell, and Jean could sense something approaching... Hope? Or was it something else? The Hunters thoughts, his emotions where muddled in the worst way, and while Jean could pick out some of what he was thinking... The rest was incomprehensible. A sheer riot of images that he could not make heads nor tails of. But that thing that was something like hope kept making its way to him. "Sadly I do get your meaning.  And I've dealt with such cynicism before.  The question is only a matter of why." Oh He bet he had, after all what this man wanted to do was nothing short of suicide. and while it sounded good, this mission statement of equality for all (Not that he thought that most demons deserved such things) it still held something of a false ring to his ears.  His eyes locked on the other man as he rose, and while he continued to eat, he tracked the others movements with a steady gaze.

"Existence at large is a chaotic place.  An arbitrary place.  I have seen the plans of angels and demons play out to no discernible ends, I have fought alongside the damned and watched as they attempted to redeem their past and failed gruesomely, miserably.  I have seen the blessed sneer at the weak and the damned extend aid to the needy.  No, there are no prophets, there is no predicting this world.  There is only the struggle to survive it.  And one cannot survive this place alone, and at the top of the struggle to survive?  An uplifted few exert their arbitrary will against the efforts of all.  No!"

Pretty words those, compelling in a way and while the held the ring of truth and spoke to him on almost a personal level... He did not trust them. He did not trust them for those very reasons. Etreven's words almost seemed tailored for him and his sensibilities. Of course any orator worth their salt would tailor their words to their audience so they might better sway them. But the question remained, how did this man know him so well? How did he guess at his reactions? And how could he choose his words with such finesse that he could cause him to actually consider this mans proposition? It was eerie, unsettling and left to many questions unanswered. "I will not stand idly by and allow my existence to be dictated by the whims of those who deem themselves greater than all.  They are not beyond harm and I will see them undone! There are no prophets.  Just a will to live.  The choice is yours friend, fight with us or go your own way.  I cannot make you trust me, but I know you understand the value of strength in numbers." Jean finally set down his knife and fork, calmly picked up a napkin and cleaned both his fingers and mouth before returning his attentions back to the matter at hand. "With words like that I gotta wonder what they did to ya to cause such venom."

It seemed obvious that the one before him that spoke with such fiery passion was in some way emotionally invested with this hair brained idea. "From what I understand these so called rulers can hardly be bothered with the likes of you and me." He shook his head, a small smile coming to his lips as he sat there, legs crossed and relaxed. " And ya right, you can't make me trust ya. That's something that earned. But you know what?" He reached into his coat and withdrew a single large silver coin. " I may not know if you're a trust worthy man, but there's an easy way to see if ya a lucky one." And ungodly amounts of luck where needed to even consider such an endeavor such as this, and while he personally was not of a mind to help this man... His partner was. And while he would have rather just walked away right then and there he could not turn his back on the being that had helped him become what he was today. That being the case he tossed the coin strait up, and locked his wolfish eyes on those of the man who was their to recruit him. "Call it in the air and if ya guess right well, I think I can listen to ya preach on a lil while longer.

[Etreven]

Even as the words echoed from his lips across that as-yet unfinished chamber, Etreven was certain he would gain the man's loyalty.  Respect?  Trust?  Perhaps not.  But nearly any outcome can be achieved by multiple paths, something he had learned a very long time ago.  What mattered was knowing by what route you had accomplished a particular goal and knowing how best to use that knowledge to maintain the necessary trajectory.  This was a game he'd played for quite some time and did it exceptionally well.  It was nearly all there was to the otherwise hollow man.  He could feel the trajectory of the moment carry him, and Jean's response was little more than verification.  "With words like that I gotta wonder what they did to ya to cause such venom."

In truth it wasn't him the archdemons had wronged.  Nor did he particularly believe Ymir felt wronged per say.  No, neither of them were the sort to feel wronged (and Etreven himself never really felt anything at all).  They had a greater purpose, even if the inspiration began with that failed rebellion so many thousands of years prior.  For a moment Etreven's eyes lingered on the wolf beside Jean for a moment.  It was that demon they most needed, but Jean was the necessary gatekeeper to that power.  " And ya right, you can't make me trust ya. That's something that earned. But you know what?  I may not know if you're a trust worthy man, but there's an easy way to see if ya a lucky one."

Immediately all attention in the room went to that silver coin.  Ymir's eagerness thrummed in Etreven's consciousness, and their wills were acting nearly as one.  In his mind the demonic voice from the spiked monstrosity behind him reverberated with a twisted sort of glee.  The demon was practically laughing as he jokingly inquired "Tails then?"  Was it easy to find out if he was a lucky man?  Certainly.  But he was no slave to luck and would not be made one.  The cajun before him made motions to flip that coin, adding "Call it in the air and if ya guess right well, I think I can listen to ya preach on a lil while longer.".  And then the metaphorical die was cast as the literal coin flipped through the air, that potentially momentous event made all the more humorous for the assurance the pair had.

Before the coin began it's fall down, two unison voices spoke four commanding words with absolute certainty.  "The coin will fall tails."  Though they spoke together, it was Ymir's voice that carried power in this place.  Power to override the senses.  To make his words into another's truths.  And so it fell, luck be damned.

[Jean La Croix]

The coin flew through the air and while most would have fallowed its flight through the air Jeans own yellow eyes did not. No, those lupine orbs where locked upon the eyes of this man you thought he knew him so well. On this man that for lack of anything better... Put him perfectly at ease. Thing is, as warm as this man acted he smelled as cold, as emotionless as the tundra in which he apparently made his home. And while he smiled and played nice, there was a sort of absence of substance that Jean could only link to sociopaths, killers and conmen. He had seen it often enough, experienced it more then he would like to of course suspicion of something does not evidence make... And lacking anything other then a sort of gut feeling Jean tried to give this cold individual the benefit of the doubt. Of course if it turned out that his gut feeling was right, Jean would find himself kicking his own ass.

And though Jeans senses where trained on his host, he could still sense the fall of the coin as it flew through the air and with out glancing away his hand flashed, snatching it before it could hit his hand. "Tails ye say? Well les see if that ol goddess is working for ya's today!" His hand opens and shinning, almost excited eyes glance down... The wolfs tail showed. "Looks a like ya the blind and deaf one is wit ya today! How ya feel bout that pup?"

As Jean talked the Old Wolf walked ever closer, settling him self close to Jeans chair, his own wolfish eyes locking on the shape of the others demon, a low rumble coming to his chest. Jean for his part glanced down but that didn't stop his none stop ramble. "Oh, dun mind him, dis Ol Wolf is jus growlin at the shadows or how eva dat sayin go's."

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