A Small Village in France (Closed, Ace Management)

It had come about during what might've been called a date for the pair. Haphazardly visiting some South American drug cartel's villa. Her request at had been fairly innovative, namely involving carving her request into the ground with one of her spells, the nature of the spell also, incidentally, resulting in the deaths of 5 of the men guarding the villa. From her place on the broom, she called up to the large kishin, just in case he didn't hear. "So, I know of this town on the border of France and Belgium. They've got an excellent bakery there. It's, Mmm~, to die for. Maybe we could go? Satisfy my normal hunger, and then, when night falls, satisfy your hunger? I've been working on some new spells~. Figure I should be able to clear out the town in a matter of minutes."

The heavy flapping of Reaver's wings carried him above the small shape of woman aboard her flying broom. He dully acknowledged her monologue, directed at him, though he found he would have to reply to the witch, else she become cross with him. "It sounds lovely dear, but we have much more pressing matters to discuss than what to eat for dinner." Implying that a feast of souls was not at the top of his list was somewhat out-of-character for the kishin, but he had always been known to be rather moody. "We've been out of the act for some time now, Charim. The DWMA could have been turned in to a preschool for all we know. We've abandoned Saca's temple, we have no allies, and I want reconnaissance."

Charim imaginatively slices another of the guards in half, head to groin, leaving behind a pale blue soul. "It's like you believe I haven't done anything other than watch over you while you've been asleep." One of the guards is pulled to the ground as one of Charim's magic sharks leaps from the ground, eating its throat. "How about we go get dinner, and after that we go to London, to the London Headquarters."

Charim smiled a bit, laying back on her broom and looking over at him. "I can find the roaches a lot easier from there, my love." Her grin suddenly shifts to a look of pain, and she falls from her broom to the ground, the burn scars visibly glowing beneath her bracers.

The fit ended as soon as it has begun, though steam began to rise from under her bracers. They grew, sliding off her arms and releasing a blast of steam as they did so, revealing that the marks were the origin of the heated air.

She looked up at him blankly for a few moments before giving a slow, careful nod. "I-I'm fine..." She picked herself up on wobbly legs, grabbing onto her broom, which held still and held her up.

Claire sat on her broom, the magical construct lifting a few inches higher. She held out her hand and her bracers flew to her. She caught them deftly in her hands and began to slip them on over her burns, nodding in agreement with her words as she did so.

Charim quickly rose into the air after him, quickly catching up to him. Her broom grew a few feet long, and she laid back on it, positioning herself underneath him and looking up.

She smiled up at him, and her broom seemed to grow a few feet longer, and several inches wider. "Come and sit, my love. My broom will speed us forward with all the haste of Hermes. Rest your wings."

Charim shook her head. "I heard no word of him in many months, and then I heard he died in a blaze of foolish glory in the soul locker at the academy. Your old adversary was reportedly involved in that. No, the true threat right now is a kishin named Inker. Berlin has fallen to him already, and I know not where he'll strike next.

The broom hurried over the shores of southern France, headed crossways over the country. In no time flat the could see the silhouette of Paris rushing towards them on the horizon. Charim nodded over to Reaver, waving a finger around in the air, a trail of blue magic following. "What happens when we find Inker?

Lenore looked up at Reaver, "Do you need me to do anything, daddy?"

Her broom began to slow, and below them stretched out a decently sized town. She looked up at him. "Can I take care of it?"

"Do as you wish, Charim. I will remain here with Lenore. Don't return unless there's at least 50 souls for me. You know I get touchy when I am hungry." Reaver gently stroked his daughter's hair, and smiled at her. "Have you been practicing your magic that Mommy taught you?"

OOC: Charim was supposed to teach Lenore magic, right?

OOC: Yes, but she doesn't have a predisposition for it. She's an incredibly powerful dark weapon, though. I know Reaver hasn't used her to see that, but she's very strong.

Lenore nodded along happily, holding onto his hip, "I've been twying, but I'm not vewwy good..." she pouted, "I can still help though!"

Charim stood on the broom, balancing effectively. She spread her arms out, balling her fists. Her hands crackled with blue lightning, large orbs forming over each hand. Slowly a circle began to outline the town, the same blue color as Charim's magic.