As the last of the soldiers in the courtyard fell, Asrael took a moment to appreciate the ensuing silence- at least the one outside. Inside the Garrison, there were still Inquisition men and families to be dealt with, but the halls would be silent- by long. As the fresh morning air blew across the silent city of Pilta, Asrael watched the first rays of the sun dawn on the bloody battlefield of dismemberment and exsanguination. Lita had shown him his potential, but he... he had proven it.

A timid, frightened form stepped out onto the platform behind him. He could tell by her step that it was Neda and, curiously- perhaps in a state of victorious euphoria, he felt an odd compulsion to watch as the breeze animated her honey-and-sun-bleached hair, but... he was nothing, if not stubborn. Despite her chest aching from his scolding, Neda found that she liked this expression of his- that dark, satisfied, slight smile contorting his lips. His green eyes peered through a hundred eyes at once- some of them, up at the Blightlander nervously fidgeting her hands.

She cautiously walked up to his side, but remained at a respectable distance to watch his coat live a life of its own in the breeze and whispered: “I’m... I’m scared, Asrael... there’s screaming...” The necromancer’s smile faded, yet he did not look away from the sun rising above the distant walls- illuminating the forms of the few soldiers he had sent to ascend the passages leading up to the archers guarding the gates.

“I know. This chapter- Pilta- is coming to an end. I’ve wasted too much time here... I need to grow stronger, but Pilta can only do so much for me... It is time I depart.” Neda’s fidgeting sped up as she bit back her questions and attempted to imagine what might’ve happened in their brief unconsciousness to provoke this sudden shift of plans. Not that she truly cared for the plan- not more than she cared for him, at least. She still wished to see the world a changed place, where children could be free from lives lived in a deep pit, but... something had changed in her priorities. As much as she hated the cruelties she had seen, she wished above all else that Asrael would just turn around and speak her forgiveness. That he would return to his grumpy, old self- the man he had been before she had betrayed him with her foolish mission alongside Ellie.

“W-where...” She could not bring herself to ask where he was going. Thankfully, she did not need to.

Asrael rubbed his chin ponderously before shaking his head. “I have yet to decide. I’ve many things to reflect on before I depart. Hopefully, we can find her, before long.” He knew to avoid slipping into that state of mind- not now. The back of his mind was still raging with questions regarding Azazeel, Lita and her violation of his body and above all else... that army.

Asrael let his eyes rest on the pile of permanently scorched stones down in the courtyard, where they had burned Ellie’s mother and imagined whether or not she would be thankful for having had her eternal resting-place splattered with the blood, arms, legs and torsos of her killers. Not that it mattered... It would not bring her back, nor would any of this bring his Master back. Yurgen- and the wretched mother- had been killed by fools waving those detestable insignias about and all he could do for it was to seek vengeance on their behalf and prevent a similar fate for those that could be saved of it.

A jolt of excitement brought a smile back to his lips as he remembered the lively visage of Capita’s burning. If only he had been able to see Sargerrei’s face as all he loved burned to cinders around him- just as he had, in a previous life. He chuckled as he remembered... he had been given an appetizer- not only in the mirror, but an aperitif, in the form of Titus desperately attempting to bring back his dead lover in a silent room beneath his feet.

Asrael silently spun on his heel and wandered back towards the door with a muttered command over his shoulder: “Come. I’ve use for you.” Neda’s heart skipped a beat in its ceaseless, swift rhythm as she heard the wonderful words. Even then- as he battled the desperate remnants of Titus’ army, he would take the time to attempt to patch their shaky relationship and offer her a chance to prove herself worthy of him once more.

“A-are y-you s-sure?... Y-you're not angry at me?” She should’ve known better than to question the gift she had been offered, but to her surprise, Asrael seemed oddly calm as he answered:

“Oh, I am. The extents of my fury are yet to dawn on me- because of you, I was raped. When this is over, I will sit down and imagine what I will do to you and that foolish girl. Until then, you had best serve me in this next task without fail. Do you understand?” Neda froze and ceased fidgeting her hands. Maribelle had spoken of this- how she would forgive Kester for his wrongdoings, if he were to only talk to her. She had said that that was what love was- unconditional companionship and an ability to forgive the inexcusable, amongst other things... Her lips split apart in a wide grin. She nodded whole-heartedly and grabbed her left breast to yelp: “Y-yeah, Assie. I-…" It dawned on her what Asrael had just said.

She blinked and ran his words through her mind again.

“Wait- she did what to you!?” Neda’s jaw fell agape as she concluded that he had, indeed, spoken of being violated. Asrael threw another look over at the bloody battlefield before setting his sights back on Lita’s chamber. He straightened the collars of the coat with a jerk of the tattered cloth before departing- closely followed by the worried Blightlander.

“Assie! Assie, she did what!? Talk to me!” She shouted, but took care not to further upset him by grabbing hold of her displeased colleague.