Patrollogs
(Colton's bargaining)
[Mon Dec 30 2024]
In Town Hall Northern Meeting Room
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
"Alright," Colton grunts. "I'm not saying that the Conclave's on... real close terms with you guys, but you know we're good at hunting, and you know we like to hunt the unnatural shit you throw out into the world like a god damn trash can." He pauses to glance back at Castiel as the angel steps into the room, his lips compressing into a thinner line, but he just turns back to representative of The Gamemasters in the face of new competition. "You want to put on a show getting your freaks hunted down in your sick games, we're the venatori you want. Consider it."
Emmelline strides in, nodding to both Castiel and Colton, before she makes her wayover to representative of The Gamemasters. She carries a folder, which she shows the man as she quietly introduces herself and has a few words with the representative, before she steps away, allowing them to make their decision in peace.
Emptiness first, then the opening of a door. Before it creaks to full, expands wholly to show whoever did it, Castiel is already inside, in Colton's view, taking a seat like he owns the very spot he's deigned to steal for his own. Muted in his expression, there is little to betray anything of note, whether it be intent or purpose while he waits for the other to speak his piece. By then, Castiel has set his hands over his lap, laced his digits within one another and that unsettling, unblinking gaze remains burrowing upon Colton with a sheer intensity that is bereft of animosity, but full of a prying curiosity.
A smile, then, mercurial and perfect, yet also perfectly cruel as always when his attention sways to the representative, the very one Colton spoke to. "Allies are oft found in strange times. What he may offer is a hunt, but what I offer is a sight you've never seen before." The smile wanes, the expression of his hard-hewn features of perfection cold, dealing with purpose, "I will give you what he asks, but grander. A retribution before a judge of the divine, of flame and pyre. They'll see the flames from a thousand miles, and you'll smell charred sinner for weeks to come." In satisfaction, he, too, apparently is ruthless, and vile.
Molten eyes turn upon Colton, then, Emmelline, and he waits.
Side-eyeing Castiel as the empyreal promises everything the wolf had and more, Colton shrugs and turns back to the representative and says, "There you go, then. You can go with the overpowering fireworks and grand display - or the grounded /game/ of things that we offer."
Emmelline isn't really part of the conversation Castiel and Colton seem to be having. She having already made her case, far more quietly, just stands out of the way of the other two and waits.
"Fret not," Castiel speaks to Colton this time. His smile doesn't touch the molten display of his eyes, nor does it distort the work of artistry that is his face. "Judging the sinner from the innocent can be a game in its own right." Perhaps he plays that game right now, in his completely still moment, watching, absorbing. "How easy must be to offer death to the unnatural, the downtrodden for you." A subtle cant of his head, starkly alien, watches Colton from a subtly askew angle, while Emmelline is paid no heed whatsoever. "Are you the sort that would back away if they twisted their game to include you in it? Release your kind for you to hunt?" Utter curiosity laces his words like poison. "My job is easy, in comparison. There are sinners, both in natural and the unnatural."
Coltons Bargaining 241231
(Colton's bargaining)
[Mon Dec 30 2024]
In Town Hall Northern Meeting Room
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
"Alright," Colton grunts. "I'm not saying that the Conclave's on... real close terms with you guys, but you know we're good at hunting, and you know we like to hunt the unnatural shit you throw out into the world like a god damn trash can." He pauses to glance back at Castiel as the angel steps into the room, his lips compressing into a thinner line, but he just turns back to representative of The Gamemasters in the face of new competition. "You want to put on a show getting your freaks hunted down in your sick games, we're the venatori you want. Consider it."
Emmelline strides in, nodding to both Castiel and Colton, before she makes her wayover to representative of The Gamemasters. She carries a folder, which she shows the man as she quietly introduces herself and has a few words with the representative, before she steps away, allowing them to make their decision in peace.
Emptiness first, then the opening of a door. Before it creaks to full, expands wholly to show whoever did it, Castiel is already inside, in Colton's view, taking a seat like he owns the very spot he's deigned to steal for his own. Muted in his expression, there is little to betray anything of note, whether it be intent or purpose while he waits for the other to speak his piece. By then, Castiel has set his hands over his lap, laced his digits within one another and that unsettling, unblinking gaze remains burrowing upon Colton with a sheer intensity that is bereft of animosity, but full of a prying curiosity.
A smile, then, mercurial and perfect, yet also perfectly cruel as always when his attention sways to the representative, the very one Colton spoke to. "Allies are oft found in strange times. What he may offer is a hunt, but what I offer is a sight you've never seen before." The smile wanes, the expression of his hard-hewn features of perfection cold, dealing with purpose, "I will give you what he asks, but grander. A retribution before a judge of the divine, of flame and pyre. They'll see the flames from a thousand miles, and you'll smell charred sinner for weeks to come." In satisfaction, he, too, apparently is ruthless, and vile.
Molten eyes turn upon Colton, then, Emmelline, and he waits.
Side-eyeing Castiel as the empyreal promises everything the wolf had and more, Colton shrugs and turns back to the representative and says, "There you go, then. You can go with the overpowering fireworks and grand display - or the grounded /game/ of things that we offer."
Emmelline isn't really part of the conversation Castiel and Colton seem to be having. She having already made her case, far more quietly, just stands out of the way of the other two and waits.
"Fret not," Castiel speaks to Colton this time. His smile doesn't touch the molten display of his eyes, nor does it distort the work of artistry that is his face. "Judging the sinner from the innocent can be a game in its own right." Perhaps he plays that game right now, in his completely still moment, watching, absorbing. "How easy must be to offer death to the unnatural, the downtrodden for you." A subtle cant of his head, starkly alien, watches Colton from a subtly askew angle, while Emmelline is paid no heed whatsoever. "Are you the sort that would back away if they twisted their game to include you in it? Release your kind for you to hunt?" Utter curiosity laces his words like poison. "My job is easy, in comparison. There are sinners, both in natural and the unnatural."