At last we left our little Marona and our prominent phantom, the two leading bodies of a tropical world inhabited by a slight population unforseen by any prophet or naked eye, a request courtesy of count Malt was retrieved asking of a favor of our island queen's presence. A couple of days have passed by since, lost in the twilight of time.
Through recreation exchange, hence its grasp of title as one of the richest islands in the world-- if not the richest.
However, it went on pretty differently during the resting hours of the sun.
For one, it was a lot less misty, which revealed the shimmerinof space, we begin our Brave's story in arrival to Vapor island.
Vapor island usually holds for business g lights through the many windows of the fortress building, lights so bright it overshadowed the stars.
Through the entrance of the multistory mega building, the first floor consisted of a social gathering. Its presence would seem to be a party, but in reality it was just the lobby area. However, many would wonder where the wine glasses came from if it were an area mainly for information. Noble owls and wolfs danced a sailor's daze and as sloppy as it were, not a one would put down their drinks.
Marona's eyes couldn't help but be in a state of confusion, "Um... Are we in the right place?" Her sight shifted to the ecstatic madness all around.
This place is different during the Night, Ash was the one who had to be worried, as it was hard not to bump into anybody. He stayed in his phantom form as he always does. "I guess people are still celebrating after two years."
"Yep."
After an endless journey through the hordes of nobles, our heroes made way to the all-knowing prophet, seated among the highest of chairs and tables, as if a judger of truth.
"May I help you?" Said the mighty funguy, unknowing of their presence as he etches ink into his book of invites.
"Uuhhh..." Her thoughts were lost through the chaos, "Ummm..."
"We're here for the dinner invite," Ash whispered, "Did you forget?"
"Oh...right," Marona turned her attention to the funguy, "Can you--"
"Oye!! You're Marona, aren't you?"
He cought Marona by surprise and shocked her nerves up to focus, "Yes, i'm Marona," she bowed to the high funguy, "It's nice to meet you."
"'It's nice to meet me' she says," the high funguy bellyached, "Can I get your autograph, the kids'll get a cap outa this one!"
"An autograph...?" Its been two years since Marona defeated Sulfur, but surprisingly this would be the first time she's been asked for an autograph. She turned to Ash to which he said, "Go ahead, you deserve it."
She patted down her body for a pen and paper-- of course, she didn't have.
"The entire family's in your fanclub, even our newborn," he stretched out his arm to hand her a pen and a few sheets of papers, "'ere, spore me some of your legacy if you may."
"Gladly," said Marona, summoning the inner depts of happiness in her heart.
"Make then out to Jimmydew, Sunny, Chloryphil, Weedion, sporus, and Phungice, if ya may please."
As much as Ash really wanted to get things rolling(and get the hell out of that lobby), he held his self back from saying anything, knowing Marona was still enjoying her new life of acceptance.
"Here you go," Marona handed the material to the stretched out arm.
"Thank you so much. You wriggle my roots Marona, I'll never forget how better you are in person."
"Thank you..." she was at a lost for words, promptly from the over indulgance of praise and honor she just received. She felt alittle embarrassed.
"No, thank you. How may I fung you this eve?"
"Can you tell me where I can meet the count?"
"the count?"
"Yes, he sent me an invitation."
"If you're sporin' for Count Malt, he's on the fourth floor in a Cabaret."
Again, as if her natural look, Marona spores herself a look of confusion, "Uuuh okay..."
"Heck, I'll even send ya one of my caplings to go with you," the seemingly gitty funguy spouted a miniture self from his mushroom, leaving a slight aroma of vintage rose seeping out.
"How cute," Marona looked down on it like the sexy goddess she is.
"No worries Marona, I'll be your guide for this evening, follow the fungking!"
"Thank you," she said to the true and mighty Funguy while disapearing through the crowd. Once again perched on his seated throne as if to say he was the all-knowing and all seeing god-- or rather, Fungod.
And off our heroes travelled once again, with their prophetic funguide to show them the way pass the many trials of strife. Through the rivers of vintage Saschen did they swim, over the pits of noble owl drunkards did they jump, and pass the fields of chaos they crossed until finally, after a long and hard treck did they reach the massive room of the cabaret; with nothing but a gigantic wine stain on Marona's dress to show for her perilous adventure.
"This is it."
Our heroes were too tired to say anything, it was a wonder how they cought up with the funguy through the masses, but they did it.
"I'll be on my way, goodnight," said the little capling before turning into spores and violet bubbles, again resembling the aroma of vintage rose.
The massive doors were already open, so Marona took the initiative of walking in.
Assumingly, as the reader, you would suspect a dinner invite would grant nothing short of a dining setting, and so oviously it is. The usual dining noises of forks and loud whispers can be heard, and other silver wears clinging at different pinches of sound. Many tables are present, as it is a massive room, and though it may seem like another formal five-star restaurant, the only thing seperating it from its predecessor would be that of a large stage built at the entire back of the room.
Hence the name cabaret.
Marona wandered the tables looking around for her destination. She stuck out like a sore thumb. Since it was a little bit more peaceful and relaxing in this room, the many nobles took initiative to spot the chartreuse haired girl in a commoner's dress with a blotchy stain on it.
Marona knew how much she stuck out and felt uneasy with the many eyes staring at her.
As usual in restaurants, gossips cracked and creeked, colliding and forming oblonged sounds that no eardrum-- be it human, demon, or scrabbit, could ever interpret. However, when the many pairs of eyes took into realization of who this commoner was, gossip no longer creeked, but orchestrated about Marona in its whispery tone. It wasn't a commoner, it was a Brave.
"Ash..." Marona's eyes wondered around the room like an innocent little girl, "I don't want to be here anymore."
"Huh? I thought you liked the attention."
"Yea..." Marona exhaled, as if from exhaustion, "but not like this. And my dress is all stained too..."
"Well... we cant leave now. We've come this far," how right you were prominent phantom, facing perils no mere phantom could face to get to your standing ground, "Besides, it'd be rude to turn down the count's invitation without proper notice."
"Yea, I guess you're right," she sighed, knowing everything was against her will, even the stain in her dress, which now completely settled in.
After a few more minutes of wandering, Marona finally approaches her destination, "Count Malt... Ms. Sienna?"
"Ah, Marona, you finally made it. We were beginning to think you wouldn't come."
"Sorry, I didn't realize how late we were," Marona obliged herself to a seat.
"Is Ash with you?" Replied Sienna.
"I'm right here," a blue orb of light glinted faintly and momentarily, "I just don't want to make a scene."
"I see..." Sienna finished the bit of ginger vexxen left in her wine glass.
With a hand motion, Carmine signaled a waiter to come over to his table.
"By all means I'm not really hungry," Marona said.
"Really?" Carmine twisted his fuzzy mustache, "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," She nodded her head formally, "but more importantly..."
Perhaps it was an arduous meeting on Marona's part. She sort of huddled in her seat unintentionally and shot her head down towards the edge of the table while an imaginative poparazzi took pictures of her a thousand times a second.
Staying in that room was too much on that little girl's heart, and Ash could see her cracking up in a nervous disposition. He could feel what she felt; the numerous amount of eyes crawling up her back and the level of embarrassment rising above her neck.
Ash took the initiative to save Marona, before she started to mumble her way into an early grave, "We're just wondering what the job offer is going to be. We're pretty busy throughout the week," he placed his hand on Marona's shoulder, "Isn't that right Marona?"
"Huh...? Yea, r-right."
After count Malt's response, silence lingered for a long while. This must have raised the embarrassment level up to Marona's ears.
But sooner or later, Scarlet begins to speak, "Marona, have you noticed how Iviore has changed?"
"Huh? A little bit. People are a lot more happier now ever since Sulfur was sealed away--"
"No, thats not what I ment."
The waiter came, already with a bottle of ginger vexxen, predicting what Scarlet would order ahead of time. If he expected what she wanted, how many glasses did she actually have?
Scarlet continued after the waiter leaves, "The geography, the islands, don't you think its strange?"
"What is?"
her look alone said, 'You don't get out much, do you?'
"Islands are moving at an exponential rate, or haven't you noticed? I've had to redesign Bottlemail routes at least six times during the last few years."
"You want me to find out the problem?"
"No, that's not it. I don't think you're well suited for a task like that Marona," Sienna hushed, wanting Count Malt to take the lead.
And so he obliged, "There's an island, far west in the Vermillion region. About eighteen months ago, During an inspection on Mt.Kazan, the celeste clan witness a purple light far out in sea. At first, my people speculated Sulfur was trying to return, so naturally I went to see for myself. But instead, I found an island amid the sea. My clan has tried numerous attempts to go, but the islanders are very strict about visitations. Have you heard of the island Marona? Its called Sacred."
"No."
"Marasaki took it upon himself to explore the island," said Seinna, "for business purposes, but he hasn't returned--"
A man overshadowed Marona from behind, wearing pure white mail and donned with long shimmering blonde hair and a chiselled face.
"Excuse my lateness," said he, perfectly. Marona turned around in astonishing dumbfoundedness in not reckognizing(or perhaps reckognizing all too well) his voice.
"I hope you haven't started without me."
"How could we?" Replied Sienna.
He took a seat, more closer to Marona then anyone else, "It's good to see you again Marona."
"I'm glad to see you too Raphael, you look the same as before."
"As do you. My skills have been polished so I hope we could have that friendly duel one day."
Marona's eyes turned clockwise around the room, "Uh...One day."
"My point being..." said Sienna, shaking the foundation of conversation, "I want you to go find Marasaki, he should be at Sacred... hopefully."
"Raphael, we were hoping that you would allow Marona to accompany you," said Count Malt.
"Accompany me? Where would we be going exactly?"
"To Sacred... hadn't I posted you?"
"I'm sorry Count malt, I was late sending my telegram, I have to humbly reject your offer."
"Really...?"
"I am trying eagerly to reassemble the White Wolfs, as we are still not up to par with the other Ravens."
"Oh well," said Sienna, "Maybe next time you won't disband in such hasty terms."
Raphael laughed sheepishly, standing from his seat, "No, I still do not regret my decision, it may have been selfish on my part, but in time it will prove deserving for my services for Iviore."
"Are you leaving so soon Raphael?"
"I am, perhaps next time we can all have a more formal meeting."
"Yea..." Marona too agreed, standing up from her seat, "I'm sorry Ms.Sienna, but I'm busy throughout the week."
"You too Marona?" She gulped down the rest of the ginger Vexxen.
"I'm always busy; I have to schedule my meetings I'm so busy."
"I see... I'm sorry you can't stay longer."
"I hope Marasaki comes back."
"...Hopefully."
After all bid their adieux, Raphael and Marona walk off, engaging conversation.
Until...
"Hello Daaaaaarlings!!!!"
The lights dimmed and the cabaret doors closed.
Marona, such the country bumbkin she is, frantically looked around while filling her stomach with confusion.
"It seems...It has already begun," informed Raphael.
"What?" Asked Marona, following the spotlights that were moving around aimlessly.
"The show... It looks likes we can't leave now... and by a split second too," Raphael was highly troubled, as his presence was far from the expiration time. "I have to be somewhere, but... if there's no way to leave, I guess I might as well stay. What say you Marona?"
"Is there absolutely no way?" Marona pepped, unforseen was Ash, stepping behind her, "The doors are locked."
"Once the show starts, the doors lock for an hour, thus my hasty departure. Shall we?" Raphael stuck out his mail-covered elbow, inviting Marona to wrap her arm around his arm, "Lets say we decided to stay a little bit longer."
"Okay." When Marona accepts his arm hesitantly--while also making it a priority to hide her stain behind his mail, they were sedate and slow moving in retiring back to Count Malt's seat.
Hey buddy, watch who you put your hand on... if you know what's good for you.