Killers everywhere, it ain't no place to run.

[intangibleman]

The Desert Palace, all in all, wasn't such a bad place.

Tyki rather liked it. It was almost lively under the near funereal, subdued air. There might have been a fog hanging over everything, the heavy weight of a member missing, but underneath that was a subtle layer of anticipation, a mountain-stream burble of excitement at what the meeting might hold. For those normally resident, the reaction to strangers was mixed. Some approached the situation with their heads held high, giving no indication one way or another how they felt about the sudden intrusion. Others seemed nervous, the unknown quantities enough to frighten them, not that they broadcasted it. For the minions, there seemed to be a novelty to it. It almost seemed to take the edge off the fear the Arrancar were harbouring.

Almost.

Neliel, however, apparently Sosuke Aizen's biggest fan, seemed positively mired in it. There were moments when she came out of herself a little, but it was obvious that he was on her mind. Him, or her precarious position.

The young girl Road had taken to seemed less concerned, but it was possible she didn't understand the gravity of her situation. The short man with the pet Malboro covered whatever worries he had with a bright veneer of smirking sarcasm, but Tyki could practically smell the fear on him. The lanky Tag with the attitude problem didn't give anything away, instead choosing to sneer one-eyed at everybody, teeth grit and bared like an animal caged, as though he didn't care whether he lived or died so long as he got to sink his teeth into somebody. It was possible this was the case, but Tyki had rarely seen somebody who didn't care when it came down to it. Perhaps he'd get to see his real feelings on the matter after the meeting's conclusion. That might be fun.

The others hadn't presented themselves for inspection.

Tyki found himself enjoying it all. Road was keeping an eye on things, doing her best impression of a precocious young girl there under Tyki's watchful eye, but the reverse was probably more true. She knew more than he did, about everything. It was her who told him what would become of the Arrancar if things went south, her who told him about the members he had never heard of, who he'd never bothered to read the backgrounds of. He simply watched and enjoyed.

What had surprised him was that the majority of the members present and, indeed, those expected, were natives of their own floating continent, and not Ivalice. Some of the residents were certainly lowerworlders, but all of the visitors seemed to come from Niflheim, Lucis or the Jyllandi Union. Was it merely a trip for them, a chance for the to size each other up on neutral ground, with Aizen's imprisonment serving as little more than window dressing? That was possible. None of the had any real personal investment in the man, nor his continued safety, or that of his underlings. He suspected Kreeth was simply there for the holiday.

There hadn't been any newcomers for a few days. The last had been the two from the Union and before those, the Lucian envoys, apparent nobodies there in the stead of somebody important. It was probably fortunate the absent lowerworlders didn't send the same in their places, or the palace would run the risk of being standing room only, with underlings turfed out of their rooms to house the temporarily higher-ranked dogs of members. Road said they were still waiting on a woman from Reseune, a town that bordered the two major halves of the Niflheim Empire, and some mid-tier noble from Nagapur who Road, all full of childlike delight, was expecting to kick off at some point during her stay.

There had been some arrivals last night, but they'd come in without fanfare, or announcement. They felt familiar, so Tyki assumed they were residential minions, gone and returned. He'd soon find out, anyway. He'd left his hat and cane in his room, but still made sure to dress nicely. His white side wasn't welcome in such a place, and the black was far, far classier. He found himself gravitating to the kitchen without effort and he was almost surprised how quick such a thing had happened. Perhaps that was how the palace got you.

He pushed open the door.

"Good morning," he said.

Comments

[thatsit]

Ignis had woken that morning shortly after the sun had risen. As strange as the little underground enclave was, it was also pleasant. They'd expected to spend the time they were here ensconced in a hole below the ground, away from the sun and normalcy, surrounded by the most dangerous people in the world. Instead they were ensconced in something more akin to a climate controlled hotel, or perhaps a terrarium depending on one's view, and, yes, surrounded by the most dangerous people in the world.

Although honestly, Sir Integra's underling had come across as infinitely more unpleasant than the Nifs, thus far.

Noah. Possibly the worst possible individuals for a pair of low-ranked Lucians to share breathing space with, but provided they kept clear and didn't cause ructions, they'd likely survive the encounter. Sir Integra had made very sure that Ignis was as fully up to speed as she could bring him on the matter of the Noah, and their loyalties, and he, in turn, had carefully informed Gladio of what she knew.

Still, hiding oneself away in one's temporary quarters wouldn't do, and for all Ignis wasn't going to complain about sharing with Gladio, there was little point in listening to him snore for another hour. Besides which, he was running critically short on Ebony. He'd brought some, of course, but it wasn't sold on Ivalice, and now he felt the need to save the dozen or so cans he had left for actual emergencies. Neliel had, at least, been good enough to keep the kitchen supplied with real coffee.

And reaching out and making allies was one of the most important tasks left for himself and Gladio right now.

He'd found Neliel in the kitchen. It was, she'd explained, her usual spot, should he ever wish to find her. If Ignis was pressed, he might admit to feeling a kinship with the Arrancar; she did all the menial homemaking tasks for people that never voiced any appreciation, and she did it because someone had to make sure it was done properly or certain individuals would contentedly live in squalor.

He had the kitchen smelling of fresh coffee within minutes, and was just clearing off the worksurfaces ready to make a start on breakfast, after making Nel take a reluctant seat at the table, when he felt the approach of a slightly menacing individual.

There was no point in startling like a jumpy dreamhare. They'd have to weather being in each other's presence for a while longer, yet. The least either of them could do was be cordial about it.

"Good morning!" he replied, turning to look at the incomer. Tyki Mikk, the male Noah. Seeing an ally of the Nifs wear black sent a shiver of offense up Ignis's spine, but he pushed it back down. After all, there was no point in letting them know it bothered him.

[sipthehoneylikeabutterfly]

It had been a long trip out with Yylfordt and his cadre of hangers on. Szayel had objected to going when he'd been told. After all, he never went out on forays into the wider world with Yylfordt and the rest normally; it was obvious that Nel was just trying to get rid of him while the other Khamja members arrived.

Not that he objected to collecting Arc and returning him to the Palace. One more pleasant face in the building wasn't to be sniffed at, and knowing that he was here with Arc, while Aizen was so unfortunately locked away... well. The imagination just ran riot.

He'd woken at his usual time that morning, but took rather longer in the shower, and then with his collection before he'd prepared himself for seeing the rest of the Palace. The Ragnarok wasn't the most comfortable, or secluded, of lodgings, and while Szayel wasn't shy, others had complained that the walls were thin.

With his hair perfectly done, he'd ventured out. There were others present, of course there were. He didn't know if the meeting had already taken place, or if it was still to occur, but either way, the Palace bristled with new reiatsu signatures.

Two of them were in the kitchen. One of them made Fornicaras uneasy, which Szayel casually ignored because the petulant squirming of his Hollow was beneath his attention.

He entered to find four people seated around the table. One in glasses, one with grey skin, and the other two of little significance to him. The kitchen smelled of cooked food and coffee. Good coffee, like he kept in his workspace in the infirmary.

"I'm here," he declared, shooting Nel a pointed look. She'd been so eager to get rid of him, after all.

[shieldoftheprince]

The bed the Lucians had been given in the palace wasn't so bad.

It wasn't as comfortable as Gladio was used to, but he put that down to them being probably old. Fortunately, there weren't any errant springs jutting up to give him a bad night, but he couldn't speak for Ignis's experience. Maybe his side of the mattress was like the Mencemoor, who knew? He complained of sleeping badly, but that was nothing new. He'd joked about it being Gladio's snoring, but that was crap. He barely snored. Most likely, it was his dependence on coffee. He drank too much, slept badly because he was always hopped up on caffeine, and then had to drink more the next day to function, making it an endless cycle of insomnia. No capital letter.

Sharing hadn't been too bad. The beds were big enough to accommodate both of them, which was fortunate. He doubted he'd be as bright eyed and bushy tailed if he'd slept on the floor, but he had packed camping gear. The boot was full of it, well. It was full of that, and cans of ebony. He wondered how many of them were left. Nel, angel of the Lowerworld that she was, had been sweet enough to get him some half decent coffee, but Morrid Coffee, not even the top tier Kirman variety, wasn't Ebony.

Nice as the beds were, the shower left a lot to be desired. He supposed it was good that they didn't have to deal with communal showers, and that all of the rooms seemed to have an en suite, but the shower itself was old fashioned and there didn't seem to be much space between the 'The Searing Cauldron' and the 'Greyshire Grotto' settings.

Ignis had long been up by the time Gladio crawled out of bed, limbered up for the day ahead, and fought the shower. He was an early riser, which was fine by Gladio. He wasn't a slugabed himself, but he wasn't exactly up at cock crow either.

He could smell the scent of breakfast on the air as he crossed the hall. It made his stomach growl. The kitchen felt full of people, partly because of the concentration of mostly-concealed reiatsu, and half because of the sound of voices coming from inside.

He pushed the door open and looked around. Two women, one Nel, one new. Ignis, the Nif man, and a pink-haired stranger with glasses that even Gladio knew Ignis would consider virtually a crime to own.

"Morning," he rumbled, voice still half sleep-deep in spite of everything.