— The Fallen Angel —

THE ONLY THING ZEFF TRULY ENJOYED ABOUT ROWDY CUSTOMERS WAS GETTING TO LAY THE RUDE ONES OUT. But some were just dumb and not worth his time, that is when it irritated him. Zeff stood by one on the patron's tables, his expression impassive as he dealt with an increasingly rude and belligerent customer. The man complained loudly about the food, berated the staff, and went as far as knocking over a plate in frustration

But the little guy was too little to punch, so after a detailed threat, and a deadly glare that alone made the customer tremble, he kicked a chair and left. But not without making a point to slam the door behind him.

Zeff sent the other guests back their meals, the lively feeling Baratie returning once more. But Zeff didn't even have a chance to turn when the door slowly creaked open again. 

A man in dark, weather hood and cloak stepped inside, drawing everyone's attention. The atmosphere shifted immediately; the air seemed heavier, colder, like with every step he took the tension grew louder.

A few guests shared weary glances, watching with cautious eyes as the man's piercing gaze filled the room. His face was slightly obscured by the hood, but it almost felt as if he were staring into the souls of every person there.

He walked to Zeff, his step as he had already walked to Zeff and gotten whatever he wanted. He stopped in front of Zeff, "I'm looking for a girl. She was here," he said, his low, gravelly voice cutting through the quiet tension. 

Zeff tensed but he kept his compose, eyeing the man with unease. "Plenty of girls pass through here. You'll have to be more specific," Zeff replied.

The man's gaze fell to the gold clip in Zeff's jacket pocket. He tilted his head as he studied the piece and he removed something from his belt, holding it tight. "I know she was here. Tell me where she is," His pressed, his tone laced with a quiet edge.

Zeff's eyes flickered to the clip before narrowing and the man with a sharp glare. In a deliberate motion, he crossed his arms, partially hiding the object from view. "I don't know who you're talking about," he said coolly.

The man's demeanour shifted, his voice dropping to a menacing threat. "I wasn't asking," he said, his presence now commanding the entire room's attention.

A patron nearby emboldened by the tension, his own bravado, and one to many wines, stepped forward, a knife gripped tightly in his hand. "You'd best leave now, stranger, before you get yourself hurt," the patron warned. The cloaked man barely glanced at him as if weren't even worth the mysterious man's time.

They tried to threaten his man but, in an instant, the mysterious man drew a glowing blue blade from a hilt in his hand, the weapon humming faintly but ominously. The knife-wielding guest froze mid-step, his bravado melting into fear as the radiant blue blade illuminated his face. In a single fluid motion, the cloaked man disarmed and struck him down, his movements precise and eerily efficient.

The man fell to the floor, split in half at the wait in a pool of his own blood. The cloaked man stood behind him, but his hood had fallen back revealing the long scar from the top of his eye to his cheek.

Zeff flinched but he quickly found himself frozen when he studied the man's weapon. The design seemed impossible to make but it seemed to match the exact handiwork of his peg leg. The one Visenya had crafted him.

The cloaked figure turned back to Zeff, his glowing blade still humming softly, an unmistakable warning. His gaze was sharp and unwavering as he spoke. "I'm looking for my sister," he said, his voice steady and deliberate. "Her name is Visenya. Tell me where she is." The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking into the tense air.  

— lethal lust —