A loud bang from above, heavy footsteps, shouts muffled from distinction. A sharp panic raised within Kirin as he spun around to face the entrance of the lower chamber, but of course there was nothing to be seen. Whoever had invaded their prison was above, in the cell where the noble should be. A flurry of thoughts all assaulted him at once, but the truth of the situation was simple - someone had come for him. Whether it was to release him or execute him, he did not know, though by the sound of the commotion, he could safely assume it was not the former. Too many individuals. That seemed excessive, considering how long he had been left to rot, fed nothing but the bare minimum, a diet too poor to maintain his full measure of strength.

     His chest clenched, and he turned to find Angeles - who was not there. He hadn’t felt the other move, had not sensed the shift, but he found him now near the entrance of the cavern, slipping his arms into a shirt. His trousers were already in place. An internal groan was smothered as he realized his own state, and dread bubbled up - it would be too mortifying to be found like this. Perhaps the crimson haired immortal was back to mind reading, for at that moment, he looked back at Kirin, a smirk curling the edges of his face. He glanced meaningfully towards the pile of clothes on the floor, but made no move to aid the smaller male in retrieving them.

     A complaint was already at Kirin’s lips, but a gesture from his companion, the lifting of a finger to his lips, was enough to silence it as the sound above stopped. The temptation to get up and get dressed was nearly overwhelming, but the youth was not foolish enough to think he could accomplish that before whoever was above found this hole and descended. It was not as though he had done anything to conceal its existence as there had been no cause, no guard regularly checking on him. Just now, that felt like a very foolish choice.

     He could hear the voices now, both male, the tension palpable in their exchange.

     “How did that scrawny lord manage to burrow this all by himself?”

     “Shit, should we send for the others?”

     “It isn’t like that one is known for his brutality. We should be fine. Ugh, it really reeks in here.”

     Angeles was far enough away from the entrance to not be immediately noticed, but he had place himself nearer it than the center of the room, and took his time leisurely fixing his trappings. When he was done, he looked completely out of place, save for his long and untamed hair, the silken length flowing behind him. Kirin felt a sudden regret that he had not played with it, braided it, cut it - something. There would likely not come an opportunity to do so again, if his prison sentence was at an end.

     There was a clambering, a loud ruckus, and after a moment, he defined the sound as someone climbing down, likely heavily armed, based on the sound of metal clanging together. Kirin leaned back down, concealing all but his gaze beneath the wall of the coffin he rested in. That was a blessing in a sense, he thought, since no one would immediately ascertain his state. His pride willed him to take action, but he let it simper unmet this time, observing with a morbid curiosity at what scene might unfurl when those climbing down came face to face with the monster who lived in this place.

     “This... Couldn’t have been carved by Lord Kirin.” The tone of voice had shifted from incredulous to caution. He supposed the guard wasn’t completely daft. The second was shortly behind the first, and both took their time before leaving the small alcove that was the tunnel entrance. It did not take them long to spot Angeles, either, as they shifted to take in the contents of the chamber. There was a greater length of time before they would not Kirin, he suspected, since their curiosity had ceased on the crimson haired immortal.

     The youth took the opportunity to examine each of the men, curiously wondering if he would recognize either. The first was tall, broadly built, his dark hair cropped short so that it did not dare obscure his face in a style that was popular for the military. He work a helmet in the style of the royal guard, and the tailored uniform of active duty. Several plates of armor guarded his shoulders, chest, and waist, whilst there was a greater amount of sparsity for his legs. The small metalworking of gears fastened around each joint, attesting to the recent augmentation style that had been employed following his brother’s latest innovation. The thought that they were capitalizing on the technology of a family who they had shamelessly imprisoned made Kirin nauseous with a burning hatred, but he stayed silent and motionless.

     The second man was stouter than the first, though he was not flabby of flesh, simply of a broader nature. This one Kirin vaguely recognized as being part of the Marion family, though this was only because it was a family who had served his own for years before a branch moved to the capital. He did not know this one, personally, though the rusty auburn hair and grey-green eyes were both evidence of the resemblance. He was similarly garbed, and both men had a pistol at the waist on the opposing side of their sword. Neither had drawn a weapon yet. He wondered if that was a mistake.

     “Identify yourself,” the tall one spoke, his voice containing the gruff formality of the guard. Angeles just tilted his head. Kirin could not see his expression from his angle, but he imagined it was bored.

     “Identify yourself!” The shorter one was less patient, his voice expressing some mixture of anger and eagerness. This insistence was also thoroughly ignored by the taller creature confronting them.

     “Why have you come?” His voice was such velvet - it was a little shocking. Kirin had expected him to use something harsher, colder, the scary manner of speech that the youth himself was fretful of, but this was not that - it was dripping with every ounce of charisma the gorgeous creature possessed, and gave an even greater contrast to him and his surrounding. If he were a noble sitting in a lounge in the Hotel D’Corio, one of the most thoroughly outfitted locales in the Capital, he would have suited perfectly. Better than Kirin himself, perhaps. That thought irked him, his pride wounded despite himself.

     It caught the pair of guards by surprise, their expression shifting to something of confusion. The stout one recovered first, however, his brows coming together in an ugly manner, the hairy pair pressing together into a singular unibrow, his face flushing with scarlet color that made his complexion worsen somehow. It was certainly not a becoming blush. “We are asking the questions here! Where is Lord Kirin, and who are you?”

     The other blinked out of his daze at that, but looked less sure he should bristle up like his companion. And he also had the clarity of mind to look around the room further, to see if they might gain an answer through simple observation. His chestnut eyes landed on Kirin’s and the small noble managed to offer him a glare that was likely less frightening than he wished, considering he was hunched down hiding in a sarcophogi. He would have straightened up, even with his throbbing hips, if that didn’t expose his shirtless state. At least he wasn’t filthy. The thought wasn’t very comforting.

     The taller one nudged his partner and nodded towards Kirin’s position, at which point the angry lout seemed to also switch gear. That seemed foolish, neither of them paying much mind to the crazy red head. “Lord Kirin, His Majesty Jeffon, long may He reign, has summoned your presence for judgment. Submit yourself at once.”

     The soft laughter called their attention back, with ever growing perplexity. This time, the stout one had the mind to draw his pistol. Kirin wasn’t sure if that was wise or not. The words that followed were still honeyed, beseeching more than demanding, though there was the sense that the statuesque demon would not waver. “What punishment does this King have in mind for the young Lord?” The raven haired immortal in question was beginning to wonder why Angeles even bothered.

     But then, the strangest thing happened. The tall one answered.

     “The Unlair family refused to lift the boycott until Kirin is released. His Majesty has arranged plans for a public execution.” The burly guard whirled on his partner with such a look of surprise, but then the tall one looked shocked himself, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. That seemed odd.

     “Thank you for your cooperation.” So quickly, the honey was shriveled to ice, and cut into those present like a knife. But before the angry one could lift his pistol, Angeles was there, behind him, and there was -!

     Kirin’s stomach wretched, though there was nothing there to expel. An all too familiar hand was sticking out from the short guard’s chest, the metal that had pretended to be armor torn through as though it were nothing more than wet paper. Sanguine blood coated the long digits as they clenched around an organ - a heart - while the victim had just enough time to likely register that he was dead before the body sagged, Angeles withdrawing his touch from him.

     A sudden shot resounded through the room with deafening consequences, the rounded chamber causing the bang to reverberate and multiply, the acoustics unpleasant for such a purpose. Instinct had Kirin ducking down, but he very quickly lifted his head to stare at the scene before him. The tall guard wasn’t completely incompetent - he had drawn and fired his pistol after the initial shock of the event had passed through his mind, and Kirin saw the sudden bloom of red stain Angeles’ creme shirt. The look of mischief that had marked his face drained quite suddenly, leaving nothing but chilling irritation, the expression of a man who had just discovered an ant biting at his ankle.

     The movement was too quick to capture, a fact which vexed the onlooker to no end, but when it was over, Angeles’ fangs were in the neck of the other guard, whose arms were twisted and useless to protest, disfigured in a grotesque manner that brought back the thought of purging his stomach. He was thankful that his kind did not commonly have any fluid to regurgitate, unless they had recently fed. It had been a day since his last meal, or some duration of time that felt like a day. The guard screamed, such an awful sound, pitiable and wretched, but Angeles did not seem to hear. Too long, he drained the male, and when he did finally release the creature, the body dropped like a hollow husk onto the ground, once flush flesh pasty, the true nature of the immortal revealed in the most ghastly of ways.

     It had been too easy. Wide eyed, the noble continued to watch the tragedy unfold, witnessing as his crimson companion retrieved the discarded heart of the short guard and bit into it, pondering over its flavor as naturally as if it were a cup of wine. He seemed displeased with it, since he thereafter dropped the flesh and turned to face Kirin. The wound on his chest must have stopped bleeding, for the color no longer spread, but it had left the creature with a terrifying image, like a man walking out of a field of carnage. Blood dripped from his claws, smeared across his lips, splattered over his chest and drenched the lower half of his body. The smell was so strong, it was the first time Kirin was not interested in it - no, that was a lie. He found it very enticing, but the combination of fear and desire made the sensation nauseating.

     He had never seen an immortal die. It wasn’t a common occurrence, thus the name of their race. And among the nobility, it was very rare, since most simply retired into a far off estate when they decided they had indulged enough in the finery of life. He had seen the death of animals, though - of pigs, of horses, even of humans, though such was also frowned upon in most circles. Those delicate creatures were a necessary staple in their society, after all. For the first time, he felt himself very mortal. That in any number of seconds, his life could be stripped away into dust, and it made him very much aware that he did not wish for that to happen.

     There must have been something telling in his wide, violet eyes, or perhaps the faint trembling of his body, because before the tall monster approached him, he paused to query, “Are you thinking something like, ‘That could be me?’” The sound startled Kirin, and he sat up straighter, the pain in his body faint with the new wave of adrenaline this situation had caused his form to rush into what blood he did possess. He swallowed hard, grasping for words that he just couldn’t put together.