Temple Church was the English headquarters of the Knights Templar, a military order set up to fight for the Crusader states in the Holy Land. With a network of offices across Europe and the Holy Land, they became a sort of medieval international bank, offering travel cheques to pilgrims and becoming fabulously wealthy. The Temple Church was originally just the Round Church, which now forms its nave. The round style was imitating the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem.
As of this moment, the open ground was full of makeshift laying surfaces. Plenty of people are camping for shelter, hoping that the holy energy that protects these grounds will hold back the 'evil' outside. There is clouds of dancing healing aura mingling with hardships of pains and fear. She isn't damned now, pained aura doesn't flavour her tongue as it would have in previous times. The more attuned into the zone and the recent history; the more alert of herself and what lead her to being a 'wounded angel', whom has 'lost' her wings quiet a time ago. Her soul is healed, scars a plenty but harden with time and self-made strengths.
Her eyes sweep ago again, towards brown rob men and wool grey clothed women are passing around food and glass bottled drinks. Some are using divine holy magic to remove minor cursing. The language takes several listens through before Leana could finally hear it translated in her mind.
The world is black and white; the eyes of an angelic or animal based sight - no human colour receptors. The only colours she sees is soul based. Soul sight is not the same as seeing with eyes. She is covered in blue blood wounds. She feels missing parts of herself became the more clear, particularly that she should have wings. The lacking of them wasn't her troubles. She forced herself to sit up, forced herself to scan the room for threats and soul attackers. She is in a weak enough status while in the living world that the fortune based creatures are a threat to her while when she was human they were allies. She knows that she is an after-living status. Watch the energy tanning her golden skin the longer she sits here.
"Lord father bless thee." They stop her from using her hands, "Lay down hurt one. You have protected plenty enough." She is softly guided to lay back down, "Gave you wings in sacrifice to protect us all." Leana eased as they peel her bandages to be replaced old wounds that time glitch to more recently torn open wounds, "Are you in pain? Need more tonic?"
"I am fine for now." Letting them work on her bandages in replacing and she looked around quietly, "This place has its own beauty, in spite of..." she shook to not finish the words. The ladies lather each wound with honey part oil. Wrapping tightly in clean linen. They had her up right to sort her wing stubs. She swims her sight on the injured other beings and the commotion of new people. As some shake their heads and blanket over the face of a normal human, the soul turned to walk towards a grim by the window. Able monks pushed the corpse to a stretch.
No second, the space was clear barely, the same stained sheets, a stretcher of a recently critical takes that space. It isn't only humans here for healing and covered in wounds. She is not surprised in seeing a death god avatar leaning beside the guy of the window. The arms missing. So angels, undertakers with shattered clay limbs, avatars of gods is not the only target. She tilts seeing the dead being laid in blanket wrap, being taken down a basement access. As new wounded replace the space of the corpse, with three or one these brown robs attendees.
They make her put some of gear back on, and given she was looking lively. They moved her to new area away from the intensively critical cares. She was left with a lonely middle aged woman. Leana is strong enough to unsteady walking. So she needed her help to keep balance. Guiding her to a more inner privacy sector.
Leaving the Nave for the private side, using the same corridor that is the basement access. The stench of the dead from further down the hallway is no mistake. As is the aura of energy being converted into holy energy thus the exit aura of souls is what this universe creates as church energy. This is a process not normally witnessed. It is in fact, not a documented known factor. Folks assume and blindly guess. There will be churches out there that aren't protective enough to save souls. So the graveyard based churches will naturally have higher protections from monsters of the curtain perceptions and the 'evil' that is attacking now. Her eyes can't see the damned but she knows they are here... they are just in threat of being attacked as the rest of them. It can't be blamed that Death can not see the resentful. Given that his own bodies are at risk to save souls.
The flag stone flooring ring familiar for her in a past life. At least this place of the materials this church is carved from strikes the same as the Mage Island's and other highly concentrated holy grounds. This is an instinctive tell of what she is about to be approaching, a faint feather of Omens drafted in a unseen breeze past here eyes. Making her take attention to why they have stopped suddenly. Office door, the nun nods. Left Leana to go alone. The nun doesn't step any closer to the swing of the door hinges, masking her fear with a blank kind smile. Fleeing back to the intensively care.
Leana gets herself a little presentable in case of meeting old friends and very possible that she may be an enemy to the people inside. This place has retained a neutral stance during this on going monster war - doesn't mean that her mock angel body now isn't any different to the other monster they are fighting now. She politely knocked clear and confident. Even in the way of warning that she is a huntress ranker. It wasn't acknowledged. The aura behind the door is high string and has no baring towards her. It did come to her thought that the voices inside are after-worlders. They can't hear human realm sounds. They hear her speak but not her knocking a wood door. Another example of material bodies and soul differences.
"Excuses!" She heard exclaimed as she barely makes it through the door, "You sent them to slaughter!" She studies the angelic order folks, a silent death god figure at the back and undertakers... no crests? She slides gaze of the other room details like a current London map. Markers of known safe spaces and the tracking of the enemy. She sees several documents reporting about soul development and being a hollowed one. She raises her brow of there being a mage human among the background.
"Welcome back." The death god acknowledging her presence of the room, "Are you contemplating eating us?"
"Seriously? If you have enough of a god divinity, you would know I am not interested in healthy ones." She softly rambles in leaning at the door, swimming sluggish use of her body in the pain killers, "I just needed a pause to take in what I was meant to say." She passes into the room, a bunch of runic language of magic flashed brightly and burns warning. She looked back checking the runic languages, sees she didn't break the protection casting and back forwards in staring at these folks.
"Lord father, you poor child." One the angels coming to her aide to help her to the map, "Your wings are gone."
"I think they are being borrowed. But anyways, here's what I know." She shuffles a bunch of the statue markers of where the enemy are positioned. She added new markers for trapped unknown variables. She took consideration of that being too much or not. She adds one more feature in and backed off. They all crowd thinking over the changes she made of their maps.
"Is that what you got in exchange of your only return to heaven? Did that seem worth the price of loosing your worth?" The highest angel mocks and it told her everything about the deal here. She looked vacant in processing the game here. She turned in checking those undertaker's again. She slides another go of the mage and death god. She softly entangled the concerned angel off her.
"Are you infected?" The slowing hands to reach for weapons.
"Well, I have learnt a lot of new stuff since loosing my wings. Like I never needed them. As much as heaven is a paradise for souls to relax in peace. No one actually knows what that is. Angels aren't the souls of those granted place in heaven." She sees the shock ripple the angels and the shattering assumptions in the undertaker ones. The only one that reacts impressed was the mage. Death lowered his gaze, "Why would a tome keeper like me be worried about my wings? I can track them and take those back." Death shot a stare through her and the mage drops things across the floor, "As of this moment, I am back to my soul status. I am exactly what I have always been. Myself." She huffed, "You all worried about a bunch of missing arranged souls. I don't even know why I am here anymore. The person I care about seems to had disappeared again. I bet that god has sent him off to some collapsing dangerous place again. A fetch quest for sure."
"Oh no," the mage ran around to her side, "Trixie?"
"What?" She asked. The mage takes her shoulders and shook her a few times. She is dazed to blank mind. The mage uses this few seconds to hiss at the others. Warning them. She was very quickly being spell wrapped in Clothus made materials, a sort of binding spell that has the traced of Raven. It was like Raven himself was holding her still.
"Trixie, I have a few important things. I need you to stay calm." The mage studies her as she back in having focus, "Raven was murdered." She softly nods at that, "Your cult family is slaughtered. All sides." She nods again at understanding, "Someone stole your tome of creatures." She deeply freeze at that, considered a lot of thoughts, "And importantly, someone has used your hands to break the laws. It is why we have these hollowed ones."
"Oh dear. That is a lot of painful stuff." She searched in herself for a sort of emotional or something, "He took my soul with him. I can tell. I don't feel anything." She tilts, "Well I am in pain in the dull ach of being wounded."
She took in the mage before her, this is someone of the bloodline of the Glader. His soul has the ender title inactive but dreaming acting attachments. She slips slide eye to the weapons raise, there isn't panic for her life. She isn't human. There is no emotional wavering or that fear and sorrow. Rather she feels true to herself, something closer to her Nightmare's title. A being whom thrives in desperation, not that she feeds from that, and isn't tangled by the others. Being a 'dream creature' means there is a heavy distance between her and them. From her abyss travels, a soul that left time space, there is a even larger wedge that is indifference.
"You only eat broken ones." Death seems to recounted, finally a flicker of truth behind those eyes.
"Broken souls are so delicious but I dislike fresh broken things. I prefer not to be around anyone that had a recent experience of soul trauma, nor would I cause suffering intentionally to create any harvest. I am a lady of my hunting grounds and know where my prey hides best. The longer the wounded the better." Death took out a crystal tablet from his sleeve and typed that into the Sigil network. She sees the active changes in her Sigil status being edited. The mage holds her a bit longer with that unsettling information.
"Trixie, can you at least tell me you are able to control yourself and be a neutral?" The mage grappling her hard, ready for something of another trick.
"As long as I am sane." She voiced, "I don't have human like chooses when I haven't the sanity." He stares confused that being her answer. The death god nods silently in his own approval, but will not be visible to anyone. Death is here to watch over the few due their time, very soon. Eyeing the undertaker type folks with patience. Death tries to look towards the mage, yet that mages has a way of avoiding deaths gaze. Leana is very forwards at knowing she stares right at invisible people. She matched eyes with death in watching his gaze. She isn't fazed how that's seem to others, her glooming empty spaces. She is plenty alert of deaths little tells, and he has chosen to stop watching for her. That she isn't someone death takes. The tension is moved by the folks that aren't humans.
Those that don't linger or have emotional hesitation. She does turn back to the war map and the renewal of going over the same information on replay. The mock undertakers hiss in annoyance that the room is going back on itself, clearly they aren't from the other side. Leana however sees what the replay actually is, seeing alternative possibilities of the moving routes of enemies.
Mage ducked down while Leana was already low leaned at the table to move a statue on the layout map. The office door flies in splinters, avoiding her and the mage.
Impaling several of the mock undertakers, three collapsed the floor gurgling. One had the air forced out, laying with puddles spreading slowly. Those with minor or not harm at playing this indifferent act. To maintain they didn't just hear the door exploding. While the mage isn't hiding the fact he knew it was going to happen. Death steps ready, standing over the worst one. Ready, his blade hovering at mere touching.
"Did that really need moving?" A demon glares her for seeing her leaning as an excuse to avoid the door.
"This one will have senses a curtains shuddered, cowardice to avoid the rift." She poses to her changes, "If a big black inky twig crept from the side of you vision. You would be afraid too." The demons looked at each other for that and death stopped moving from her comment, "These are small fries eating the decay. If enough were here, you will invite the medium opportunist. Only then would something that makes god eaters fear, that would step into the spectrum for decent hunt." She wafted her hand towards death and he got on with his duty. Heeding her information. The mage squeaks, lowering to hid behind the nearest sturdy item.
"My... My..." she could smell them and the way the foot work dragged. No mistaking the decaying disease. The flesh dripping and black putrid left behind.
"This must be a holy ground if one of you are here." She takes out a smell rag to prevent a gas reflex, "Have you seen my Husband anywhere?"
The gravel that comes next from the creature was for her a predictable outcome. While anyone else was stiff still in trying to not look like a target. It rumbles a long string of lost languages. She does understand the concept it manners to her, guessing that this era of Curiosity is among the hunting the monsters. There is a bunch of patting the floor, giving her a Clothus treatment - telling her about court moves among the real monarchies of undertakers. She clearly was ear out on the crest crowns. Once all was said by the dementor corpse, she focused back to the mapping streets of London. The little statuses of soulless beings terrorizing the current era. She grasps enough to know exactly what this version of her is. A discarded character that is underdog valued by all known worlds.
"How is the other side?" She coldly asked, "Do they look worth the catch? I know they are watching." The creature sits up with widen gasp. It's teeth began to clatter. It avoided looking at her, avoided answering her question. It gets off the floor, gave a shivering bow and it flees from sight or reach of her. She thinks deeply in the metaphor of the soulless let loose among the living world. That they are the oil tar floating above the water surface. While humans are the coral shelter that the wildlife of angels, demons and undertakers swim among. Big fish gods and the rare sub species of magic users and cursed ones. She's just a foreign material creature acting like bait among this pond life. Waiting to be the claws to catch the birds that dive in. Her feet scuffing the sand layers of decay eaters into the light.
"Clearly you know a secret about this church." Among the afraid and dispelled illusions.
"This is a church of Templar. Crusaders whom fought for holy land and so called peace. The very mathematical process of how the architecture works is secret language lost from the ages. Stone masonry workers that made palaces in bakes sands." She spoke softly, "They follow natural laws of numbers, using symmetry. They follow strange patterns and meet interesting conditions. A secret society whom humans learned of but know nothing of. No how they began and where they came from. Not how they made miracles." She gently pulls about the statues of the map in seeing patterns and behaviours. Watching the game of war, "There is a sort of factor, a sort of air into mystery. A questionable way of all these things." She was done playing the map and sees death take his leave. The corpses being sorted out by locals. The blood stains dragging out of here, "Patterns are predictable." She concluded to herself. She steps towards the door to leave, she hovers a little in wondering if she should say something. She felt the weight of the mages life in her hands.
"Come along with me, friend. Don't want to be the after pudding." The mage is who she stares at her with the eyes of a fish gasping for air, "You're on my watch list. I can't let you be harmed. I know he will be mad if I didn't offer at least a little protection." The mage studies the room a last time confused. Her left hand posed offering. He doesn't take it. Death eyes softly seeing the took away his last watch. She flicked a payment death coin, death leaves since the kid isn't his care. The mage walked ahead of her, she magic casted the door to repair. She stands blocking it, locking it with a rune. In the finalized click of the lock, that room smells of dust and sulfuric egg. She pushed the mage away from the office. A survivor is ponding and rattling the locked door as they go. The mage shivers at the screams that follow. Back to the central alter area.
"Chime of the clock..." she looked at her empty wrist. It is all blurry and unfocused. Soon there is a smart watch showing the hour and a phone message notification. She sees the tight business wear she in, that her hands are Clothus gloves. Her whole image is a pretend business human with no rest.
Gone at the desperate times. The empty church is a series of archway with gates crossing into undertakers lands. Some stand guard and plenty stare seeing her as some unwelcomed being. She has four arm bans that indicate her shadow status. There is that feeling of the crown creature inside her current body. It purrs pleased as a recognized threat. Enjoying being a monster in among prey. She feels the crowns emotions, her way of being a body puppet to tilt gaze over some seemingly weak kingdoms to pick fights with. She straighten and forced the slide to stares over the way her brother is here in his apprenticeship to being a death order. The company of German speaking family faces.
"There aren't many souls with enough dazzle here." She huffed, speaking to her crown, "None of the hidden among here look any better." She sweeps into changing her posture, "the tomes is just foundational scripting. No zest, spice or sparkle." She was fighting a little bored yon.
"Excuse me hostess, where's the entertainment? The drinks? I thought we were having a conference." A little one playing big shot. She just now felt something else about her head, that her right hand is covered in a vow. Missing threads and lacking anchors. It is a vow for show but not use. No practical attachment. It doesn't change that he is tied to her, that he can take surface feeling and thoughts. He is a trained veteran in such bonds.
"The table, chairs and comforts are here. You just barely matter. If you going out of your way to hunt me down, then you clearly aren't able to play the game of crowns. I have no stakes or grounds. But I will mop up the leftovers if your pointing blame." She felt a spiked emotional heart flustered in her partners state, "Bring me the broken, discarded or the convicted ones." She smirks in sizing the little man, "Damaged ones are my priority. You don't look my worth."
"Mistress Nocturm!" She snaps stare over to those she calls allies. She smooth steps over and laced herself right into the huddle.
"The collector of broken souls, you sure?" They whispered, which is more like a Morse code tapping game at their feet.
"Indeed I am, did you bring something broken?" She spooks them all, "At least your authentic undertakers whom aren't corrupted or changed. Your emotions are well tuned in how the threads hum." Cold clasp hands pulled her to give these allies space.
"Eliza, I told you to wait at the spot." his voice gives chill burns.
"And wait for the dust to fly?" She leaned into his touch with, "Everyone's soul is so neat and untampered. It is tasteless here. The holy grounds are silent. I can hear the stone work crumbling to time itself." He blinks at her deeply and studies her.
"Go back to the spot." He orders in a deeper growl.
"Only because you said so." She goes back to the spot while she sighed, gave back look in a quick wink. She puts herself into a mimic human in that more exact posture of boredom. She felt her little pets soon creeping from the gates, sitting on or over wherever they can touch her. She was a mound of god eaters and things eventually. She clicked, squeaks and baby talks to all of them. Loving them for what they are. Respected of each other.
"Leana! Here you are." She grappled into a deep hug with a red scales lady. The scatter of the creatures
"Twilight." Returns the hug with welcome. They fell from known language and spoke single random sharp word trade. No regard of if they understood each other. By the end of the sparring word games, the mass of beings became the furniture for this meeting to start. Many god eaters becoming the tables and chairs needed. Court wolf men with trays of nibbles buzzing about. The more unique characters of her kingdom are networking among the available interests. She does see that her people are looking in all the wrong places to make contact. But she chooses that this was done for a reason. There a slide gaze of needing her approval, like child making sure the chores were done right.
The time was coming to chime again. Although Leana herself has not moved from being stood in the centre of these nave dome. The spiritual holy power had its own way of still managing to banish the darkest of doubts. Like a fish in a man's thin net, the was pulled through a spirit gateway of the Temple. Leana isn't the only one tangling in this divine fate net. Dissolving any physical trace of either Twilight or Her being at that meeting. Twilight was her true shape, 6 claw hand end arm set in lizard coil body with sheen of cosmic scales that ripple whole galaxies. Polished like sharp stones, clutching Leana from being lost to the distortions of fragmented time zone. A shattered stable space presented and Twilight gave that space for Leana to occupy. Leaving one Nave to bracing into another room of archways. Twilight leaves no trace of harm or alter laws.
Yet for Leana, she had to adapt herself into the world of the now. These hands she stares at are some scars she had not seen in a very long time, in a body she had nearly hoped she forgotten of. In the decay meat of a very tormented time her soul was worse treated back when her service of enslavement was. Well given how poorly and lacking the idea of what humans are; this is a body of a survivor. A thing that ate scraps, lived hiding from anything that moved and barely did what it was told despite of her soul ownership. This was a thing made of remains puppeteer by soul dust and barely was considered a intelligent thinking being.
"A guide can be summoned how?" the monotone isn't in matching the disbelief that plucked a deep guitar snap of emotion.
"You have to be in the know and what you asking for." Curiosity in a biohazard suit throws his left hand to his colleagues, "And know exactly that the help I summoned isn't lawful to gods." that makes the team around him look down and evade her gaze. If that she was bothered. Instead, this was the ruin of the nave Templers. Her little rags drape acting fingers lifted a chunk of the stone and felt its gravity. Felt the damage it tolled to be this fallen. little threads like finger tips in the dents and imperfections. Matching the sorrow of a monument of cog time lost to the sands. She softly searched the ruins in scavenging other bits when she is locked a set distance. She only allowed active presence in a set distance of her summoner. She carried the bit of lump stone about thoughtlessly even while she came back to the centre of her active zone, which is Curiosity. She puts the stone down and very gingerly in her formless rags like form climbs over him.
He was more then her allowance of active presence. His very way of feeling active time, the emotions in his thread soul covering is cake clay body and his not a need to speak commands out loud.
"What is it?" An actual living human in partner to the Undertakers among, "Because that is a living something. We can very much see some the damaged organs, the hint of what was bones and well... it stinks not good at all."
"She." Curiousity gets things straight, "Is the reason the fake stone work under our feet hasn't killed us all. Please just maybe hold on your personal problems and let her take us somewhere away from this." She leans into his cold tone, loving is icy harsh love that proves he cares. She uses her shadow and barely the few tangles to grasp others. And sharp she tugs them to walk a set direction.
Guiding the old street ways as she mentally knew it. She let phantom traffic pass before crossing the ruined streets. going to the last structure the is barely stood at all. London in ground zero is a sad reminder of how easy history can be lost. She felt the energy and the way this time zone was breaking. these are all that was left of this existing space time zone. She has to get them somewhere stable. Going the only known concentrated place she does feel left to go.
And in a last ditch effort as thing were getting worse faster, she used her damned powers of a regret soul to pull them to the last mile. Not across... but upwards. The destination is up from where they were on the streets. Above the low cloud line of the sky. The humans were detain helpful in giving her the energy to carry them all. The survival and pure terror of being snatched by shadows and swallowed into darkness was enough of energy feast to throw everyone across the floor of the observational platform of the safe destination. Completing her objective as a summon to guide them out of a collapse time zone and into a stable one.
"This was not what I wanted." Curiosity huffed with getting off the floor, "I need to go the dark side. Not the damned walk ways." He uses the nearest reflections to speak at her body parts that are attached to him, "We came through darkness to be here. We need to got back to that darkness." She doesn't understand his context.