Ryslig IC Inbox

[solperierat]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, EDWARD ELRIC. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 024.05.254.36 *** aurum has joined 024.05.254.36

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[nestingdevil]

[But there's no need to knock.]

[The door pops loose as soon as Ed makes himself known. It sways inward, groaning with each tick of the bolt as sheets of smog breathe out into the vacant hallway. They pool and dive - forming like slow riding waves thinning to shore. And by the sounds of things, the Sin isn't alone.]

[Small voices hiss in the dark and under the steady red-furnace glow, a feathery talon glides through the haze. For those who call the Devil's Nest home, the owner should be familiar. The harpy's curled up on a seat nearby, her plumage half sunk into the Sin's exposed shoulder.] - and then what? They'll come here. You know they'll come here -

[She pauses when she hears the door wheeze open and the feathers along the back of her head expand violently outward like an alerting crest. Disturbed and on edge, her expression is wild and the yellows of her eyes quickly shrink to pin-point targets to see just what's lurking on the other side.] Oi, oi - calm down.

[From behind her, Greed's hand splays wide. The tips of his nails rake through her jostled feathers, flattening them one by one in a soft, warming sweep. It doesn't work immediately, but the harpy does manage to ease a little and the stiffening in her bones relaxes. She extends a leg across the devil's lap and with her bird-claw toes, she snatches the edge of a glass on the nightstand nearby.] It's open, kid.

[Inside, the room is a comfortable temperature for once. The broil inside the furnace only simmers and the charcoal inside is a cool, dull-orange hum. Greed slips his hand away from his female counterpart, his index hooking his shades along the way. He lifts them up from the arm rest and with a flick of his thumb, they swing open.]

[solperierat]

[Ed's ears lift when he hears the rasp of feathers hidden behind the smoke, his attention laser-focused for a moment before he identifies the source of the sound. In all honesty, he doesn't blame her for her nerves, and casts her what is supposed to be a reassuring grin. It looks more nervous than anything else.]

[Ed steps into the room and pushes the door closed behind him again, leaving it partially open as it had been before. The smoke coils around his hooves and catches in the eddies of air made by the flicks of wingtips and tail, the chaotic swirl mirroring the anxiety they're all surely feeling to some level or other. Moving over to lean against a low table, Ed doesn't intrude too far on Greed's space, not knowing just how long this little chat is gonna be--or what it will entail.]

What is it you need me for?

[His tone is casual, but in a forced way. Nervous energy is running through his veins, a need to act and do something in the wake of the threat. Realistically he knows there's not much he himself can do--not unless someone ferrets out wherever these terrorists are hiding, but it doesn't stop that urge to go and get something done.]

[nestingdevil]

[Whatever he's done, it puts the harpy's nerves to rest. Her joints calm, her plumage drops. It falls like a riptide - with feather after feather flattening across her neck to the pace of a slowly-deflating balloon. To say she's tense is putting it lightly, but as the Sin shifts his legs, she merely recoils back onto the arm of the chair. Perching, waiting with one ear honed on the conversation at hand.]

[Greed sinks his sunglasses into the edge of his collar with one, soft click.] How much do you know about the tunnels in the basement? [As his eyes open, they focus in on Ed. A smoldering smile slides across his face, the look of it as coaxing as hell in a simmer. Yet, there's something more - a hint, a flutter in that expression. Like a skipped heartbeat or the shiver of a grave walk - easy to miss, but hard to ignore. He snaps his heels against the floor and his hands slip deep into his pockets.] Dawn's been digging them since I first came here. There's one that leads out of town. [A slant takes his shoulders as he speaks. Casual, carefree with just a dash of rigid to make it off. Greed's eyes pulse through the dim and under the thickening dark, their color slowly bleed into a red that's far more telling.] I told Stocke to get familiar with them. Figured you should do the same.

[The hint is there - slipped between the beats of conversation like the devil's own business card:]

["If things go south: run, run, run."]

[He lifts his hand from his pocket, his claws sagging at the limp of his wrist. Ed isn't the first he's talked to with an anxious undertone. They're all tense - all waiting for the next bomb to drop, but he can practically smell it here. The Sin tips his head forward and under a bristling wash of ash, his heels lift up and off the floor. Only to smack, clap, and emerge like thunder trapped in an angry cloud.] C'mon - need to show you which way to go if the rumors end up being true.