Jett's still yet breathing form glowed white momentarily as Alpha's Life spell coursed through him. He groaned a bit, and his eyes shot open, refocusing the surrounding Apostles and setting. “Ungh,” he muttered sleepily. “Just a few more minutes...” His eyes closed again, for a few seconds, and then opened a second time. Now refreshed by Alpha's spell, he knew there was no time for sleeping, especially on the hard castle floor. The mage stood and brushed himself off, shaking his head and yawing as though his moment of rest had been a good one.

“Well, thanks, Tayro,” he said with a grin and a childish wink. “I know you're only trying to look out for my best interests, but there's no time to be dawdling around sleeping.” Jett chuckled and cracked his neck, still sore from the smart bop that Tayro had inflicted. “Right, well, all that aside, you're probably just as confused as I was when I first came here. I bet you've got all kinds of burning questions - most of which I can't really answer, honestly.”

“I can tell you about the Cursed Ones, though. Don't worry too much about them. They're just a shadow variety of monster breeds that live down here and seem to thirst for our blood. Don't step outside alone, and you shouldn't be too worried about a few Re-Deads sinking their teeth into your healthy neck, or a Thatch pulling you into the abyss.” Jett clearly did not realize that he was likely scaring the boy, for his smile remained and he seemed to be truthfully casual about the monsters. With nothing else to say, he smiled and proceeded upward to the armory to find a new staff.

<center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</center>

Helena and her counterpart rolled the rock back into place, looking glumly out at the sea as they did. There was still a full day of guarding the entrance ahead of them, and there was not likely to be any more odd men wandering by. And if there were... Helena doubted the strangers would be as fortunate as Arco had been. The Sheikah was immensely lucky that he had not been killed on the spot, and that a thief had been guarding the bouldered stairway.

Inside the cavern, Arco was met by the same sight that Victor had seen months before, after his successful battle against Zayxin the Goron. Down the rocky steps there was a man-made bridge that led across a grand chasm. At the very end, one could observe a towering castle. Somewhere inside, unknown to Arco, were several of the bard's adventuring allies. The bridge branched off at a few intervals, but these side paths were obscured by a thick, white fog that seeped up from the deep reaches of under the bridge. A quaint gatehouse resided at the end of the bridge, through which Arco would find himself at the great building which acted as a beacon of sorts.

All he could do now was stare in wonder.

Who would have thought such a light poke had such an effect? He barely had used any force, in comparison to his earlier battle - in which the elder mage had proven to be stronger than him. Yet, with such a light touch - as the youngster described - he collapsed on the floor like that. Maybe he miscalculated the target, or the angle of approach, distance... well... it didn't matter now - it was his fault it had happened. The teenager grinned slightly, his eyes slightly agape... "Er..." - he mumbled, looking at Alpha grabbing Jett as the man fell to the ground. Looking at the unconscious human, he didn't seem anything like the previous one - who seemed far stronger than what this one showed. Maybe only his magical cunning was great? I guess that could be an explanation. His head hung low, hearing from Alpha his own misdeed. How could have I known that Jett's resistance was purely magical? - he pondered, trying to find a certain excuse to feel better - a common thing for people his age to do. Though it was hardly necessary as the eldest mage was quick to act and cast a Life spell again - much like downstairs to deal with the junior mage's deep wounds and nasty vine, Ericson soon coming back to his senses.

It was at that moment that the youth's ears perched up - sign he had heard something rather silent and unexpected. He looked around him to try and find the source of the sound, but all he found was the empty staircase and the - seemingly - closed doors. He heard a few grunts from the awakening mage, and disregarded the sound. It was probably my own imagination - he thought as he discarded the notion. Looking apologetically at the mage as he got up , the boy's face quickly changed to surprise and then a mischievous grin, hearing the other's reply, though that didn't stop him from hearing the little information the elder Apostle had to give him. And what he heard was not very pleasing. Although the possibilities were low, one could swear the youngster's face had turned whiter at the second he heard what the other man told him. Only one thought crossed his mind, and it wasn't good at all. No good. Zombies Most. Frightening. Thing. Ever. The boy gagged a bit before being able to use his mind to ponder a bit. Maybe this was the other man's payback! Sure! It couldn't be that bad! More pleased, though not certain of his own thoughts, the boy calmed down.

Waving goodbye at his new friend as he descended to the armory - a curious place that the youngster would have to visit one of these days, he looked towards his two already acquaintances. "Well, rather exhausted. Been a busy day... Mind if I go to my room for now? I need a rest." - he asked, a yawn slipping his own mouth. It had all worsened when he saw the other man lying there and when he commented about sleeping. A nice comfy bed would be good now... - he thought. After a good rest, he'd go and investigate more about those Cursed Ones later. He'd have time, hopefully. He moved towards the stairs, and started walking up, not even waiting for the others - they didn't seem tired at all, and they'd probably want to continue their exploration of these grounds. "I'll see you two later!" - he spoke back, heading towards his own floor.

Tayro arrived on the sixteenth floor after his short ascent. The junior mage was likely feeling the same fatigue that Jett had felt only moments ago. As he stepped out of the stairwell and onto the floor, he was greeted by three similar doors. Above the door on the left side, a golden plate with the inscription “Victor Vir” was hanging, glistening as though it had only been erected recently. Straight ahead of the boy was Alpha's dormitory, with a nameplate for himself. The inscription read “Alpha Varaudo,” and although this was technically not the Sheikah's real name (Alpha being simply an alias), it was the man's adopted name, and was what he would be called in this organization.

To the boy's right was his own dormitory. A ladder stood beside his door, and upon this ladder stood a cloaked woman, hood down for all the world to see her bright, shining face. Judging from her height, she was no ordinary female. She held in her hand a small hammer, and the tap-tap-tap! sound resonated from it as she pounded a golden plate into place above the door. As she finished, she made a satisfied noise and stepped down off of the ladder slowly and carefully. Turning, she could hear the sound of Tayro's footsteps on the stone floor as he approached. The girl, whom even a young rogue like Tayro could evaluate as a Kokiri from the descriptions on the tales, smiled warmly at the youth as she passed him by. It was a reassuring smile, that seemed to imply a safety that Jett had only just made the boy fear a lack of. As she turned the corner and headed downwards, a kindly “Sleep tight!” could be heard echoing back up.

The nameplate that Eyra had nailed in place bore no name - Tayro had only just arrived, it would not be natural for even one as wise as the Kokiri to know the name of a complete stranger. Inside his room, Tayro would find exactly what Victor had found on his first encounter here: a bed, a dresser, a bedside table, and a place to wash. The uniform of the Apostles was spread out over the dresser, and a book on how to prevent fires when casting Elemental Burst was folded over on his table. The room was tidy, and looked as though it had not been sued in a very long time.

Stretching his arms out wide, the boy slowly - though cautiously, as he didn't want to meet up with any zombie that had managed to enter the castle - made his way up to his own assigned floor, sixteenth if memory served him. I definitely need to rest now, seeing Jett resting there made me drowsy. - he thought to himself, only stating the obvious. It had no doubt been quite a tiring day, with the duel between Jett and himself, that had used most of his magical power - thus exhausting him - his encounter with the gross monstrosities, the Moblins, who wanted him for some intent that the youth didn't want to know, coming to this silent castle and learning of the Apostles and, of course, climbing up to a sixteenth floor afterwards was not that easy. A Life spell only healed wounds, and did not help at all with exhaustion so he had but one thing to do now. Sleep. Rest. Perhaps due to his age, perhaps he because hadn't trained himself before, he couldn't match some people's restoration capabilities and that could remain awake for days at end. Unfortunately, he had to sleep each and every single day, else 'he wouldn't grow big and strong', as the Orphanage caretakers told him from time to time when he sneaked out at night to the library - and was caught red-handed reading a book while his friends were all already asleep. Good memories.

Reaching the designated floor, he looked around the corridor checking his neighbours, and was content to find out that the other inhabitants of the floor were none other than Victor and Alpha, as he found out by looking at the shiny golden platings with their names inscribed on them over the doors. To the left was Victor Vir, the cheerful bard's quarters. In the middle stood Keyru Varaudo's, a Sheikah Mage which went by the name of Alpha, and it seemed that the same alias was used here. He knew the him more than the former, having participated in more adventures with the man's arch-rivals, the Hakiems. What he didn't know was his previous identity, his assassin name from elder times. So, excluding two possibilities, that meant that to the right was... an Apostle? Indeed, a slightly small cloaked figure with peculiar blond hair was on a ladder hammering a golden plate over a door, though this one - as the youth noticed - was unnamed. That might possibly be another Apostle' job - he thought, as he approached the female figure, who suddenly left her position, having concluded her job, and headed towards him... and past the Hylian, smiling at him. A... Kokiri... - he understood, mouth slightly agape. The Kokiri were supposed to be a long forgotten race which no longer were in the annals of history... though this Apostle's presence made that notion a false one. I wonder how many other surprises does this place have for me... - he thought, as he headed towards his room, answering a 'thanks'' to Eyra's comment, even if the junior mage wasn't sure if she had heard.

His own room, as simple as it might have been, was good enough for the boy. Having shared a room with most Orphanage boys for fifteen years of his life, and then having no room to call his own - sleeping in different Inns - having his own private place was, to him, awesome. He noticed the outfit in the dresser - the same everyone seemed to be wearing around the castle, so it would be safe to assume it was a sort of an uniform. The boy twitched his nose at the sight of it, as he wasn't that fond of hooded cloaks - his own, blue one was without one as it was far uncomfortable for his likes - but it was probably obligatory here, for a reason he'd have to find out... as soon as he got a rest. His eyes then set upon another adjacent room, one with peculiar handles and a metallic attachment over it. It seemed to be a strange device, one he'd go and investigate as soon as he had laid down a bit. He then noticed a table with an interesting book over an interesting topic - possibly the first thing he'd read as soon as he had some free time. For now, he wanted to just relax a bit. Closing the door behind him, the youth removed his own cloak, which revealed to have a back pocket inside it with something inside. From it, the boy removed a new set of clothing, this one lighter and somewhat smoother. Quickly did the boy unbutton his own blue shirt, removing it altogether and dressing the spare one - which proved to be quite comfortable. He repeated said process again until he had fully changed, and proceeded in taking off his own leather shoes and black socks - a colour that didn't match much with his regular outfit, but was constantly hidden by his long trousers. There. Ready to sleep now. - he thought, opening his bed and sneaking inside, his eyes instantly turning heavy.

He got up again. How could have he forgotten? Reaching for his cloak, he took out a simple wooden flute that he had bought to a man in the woods during his travels, and sat down on his bed, legs crossed. Placing his mouth on the orifice and fingers on certain holes, a soothing melody started voyaging from out of the flute into the air that surrounded him. A sudden feeling of comfort surrounded the room, as if the melody that traversed the wind had magical properties, but it didn't seem as so. It was calm and soothing, reminiscent of a lullaby (OoC: No, not Zelda's Lullaby) but had this mysterious force inside it. He played for a minute or so, before placing said musical instrument on the table and getting on his bed once more. It was strange this melody. I known this since I can remember... though I can't say from where I know this melody. It seems so awfully familiar, but I'm positive no-one in the Orphanage was the one who taught me. In fact, I was the one who taught them. So... from where could this be?... - he thought a bit before falling asleep himself. Unnoticed to him, the symbol on the back of his cloak, which only lit up while he was casting a spell, was now mysteriously glowing a dim blue color... and then disappearing once again just a few moments after.

Alpha grimaces at Jett's almost casual description of the beastly Cursed Ones, wondering exactly how the young mage will react to the news about his newfound enemies. What he sees is rather surprising: though Tayro first looks as shocked and scared as he probably should be, the expression is quickly replaced by a much calmer disposition. The Sheikah raises an eyebrow. 'Either Tayro is a much braver lad than even I thought . . . or he isn't taking Jett seriously. Probably the latter.' For a moment he considers trying to assure the boy of their true ferocity, but as Jett leaves them behind he decides to just let Tayro discover the truth for himself whenever his first mission should arise. Hopefully the Sheikah will be along on that mission, both to see his ally's reaction as well as to help get him out of the mess.

"See you later, Tayro," Alpha replies as the boy heads upstairs to his own room, longing to get a well deserved rest, considering the battle he'd had with Jett only a little while earlier. Suddenly he finds himself alone with Victor, standing beside Jett's doorway with no assignment, nor any idea of what they ought be doing right now. With a shrug, the Sheikah looks around, unsure of what their next task should be . . . before his memory finally picks up the last words Maverick had said to them after Tayro's initiation.

Maverick wrote:Alpha, yours is a very important question. I will speak to you later about the Moblins and whatever it was that was keeping them safe from your wrath. Until then, would you two mind showing Tayro around?

'Well, now that we're no longer showing Tayro around . . .' He turns to Victor. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think I'll head down towards the Gathering Hall and see if I can locate Maverick again. There are a few things I wish to talk with him about." He turns towards the staircase they'd spent much time scaling up, his black cape weaving through the air behind him as he lifts a hand upward in a motion of farewell . . . though, of course, Victor may well decide to follow the Sheikah.

Watching Tayro ascend towards his quarters, Victor couldn't help feeling a bit tired himself. And yet, there were so many stairs... uphill stairs. The Bard found himself gazing stupidly at the stairwell, trying to convince himself to start heading up, yet unable to move himself to do it. He considered laying down where he was and taking a short nap, but knew it would look silly. Besides, the stone floor would be too uncomfortable. He was stuck between rocks and a high place.

Victor was in the middle of wondering why there wasn't some kind of lift in such an otherwise-fancy establishment when his trance was broken by Alpha's voice. He glanced over at the Mage and listened lazily to what he was saying. The Sheikah seemed to want to head down, and eventually started doing just that. Though he motioned a goodbye, the Bard chose to take the wave as a "Follow me" instead. After all, two floors down were easier than thirteen up.

That's all the motivation he needed.

Victor's silent wonderment of why there was no lift system, such as a simple pulley-activated elevator, was simply due to the fact that the castle's architecture had been unchanged when Myst, Maverick and the other Apostles had first settled in. They had merely added things like the furnishings and miscellaneous objects like nameplates and magazines. Even the ridiculous means by which Apostles were allowed to wash up in the mornings had all been there when they first arrived.

As the two fellows headed downward to the Gathering Hall, they were met by one of their brother Apostles, the man who had first allowed Alpha entry to the city. Mizer was bolting up the stairs like a juggernaut, turning at each corner to each new flight of stairs without skidding even a bit. Now, normally at this time of day there was no one out and about in the castle, especially in the stairwell. And so, the boy's sense of observation had declined. He didn't need to watch where he was going.

Bowling Victor over as he charged right past Alpha, the young Somarian stopped short, but such a feat was dangerous on the stairs. His shins struck the next step, and he tripped and fell flat on his face as he sprawled out on the stony climb. He and Victor lay in a heap on the stairs, a great pile of thief and bard. Standing quickly, lest he waste any time looking for the three Apostles he sought, he prepared to speed off with a wayward “Sorry!” thrown back at the others.

Fortunately for Mizer, his search had come to an end, and it was in fact Victor, Tayro and Alpha who he had been looking for. A relieved grin came to his face as he leaned against the handrail, giggling to himself like a schoolboy. “You two! But where's Tay--” He cut himself off and shook his head. It really didn't matter where the boy was. Probably sleeping after the thrashing he had exchanged with Jett. “You guys have to come with me, to the Gathering Hall. They didn't tell me why, but something's wrong. Let's go!”

Mizer hopped down to the next flight of stairs and tapped his foot patiently, waiting for Victor to get up and give chase, and for Alpha to come along as well.

Striding down the stairs, the Sheikah is only somewhat surprised to hear Victor coming behind him. 'Odd . . . would've thought he'd have wanted to go rest three stories up rather than walk back down all thirteen floors.' For a second, Alpha wonders if he still thinks that Jett's room is on the second floor; but no, he'd already gotten somewhat embarrassed back when Tayro had witnessed his mistake. Embarrassment can boost a person's ability to remember stuff quite a bit. Surely Victor would be able to remember . . . right?

Regardless, it isn't until Mizer storms around the corner unexpectedly that he realizes that he's been hearing two sets of footsteps rather than a mere one. The elder, at least in terms of years he's been with the Apostles, dashes straight past the caped Sheikah, barely missing running him over as Alpha leaps directly skyward, flipping through the air to land at the bottom of the stairs he's been climbing. Unfortunately, Victor obviously isn't as lucky, as the Mage hears enough sound effects to inform him that the two have collided together.

"Watch where you're going, Mizer," he calls back jokingly . . . just before the senior member's cry reaches his ears. All humor abandons his voice, and he begins racing down the stairs, calling back, "Well then, what are you two waiting for?! Let's go!"

The stealthy cloaked man arrived on the sixteenth floor, after the arduous climb from the first floor. He shifted nervously as he crept quietly to the door, not wanting to attract too much attention to himself. Not that it really mattered, and he reminded himself of this simple fact and quickly relaxed. He had looked down at two of this floor's constituents, and so the only man left to be asleep on this floor would be Tayro, the newcomer. And he would be waking up the boy anyway. He decided to lose the espionage persona and relax a little.

The unidentified Apostle knocked rapidly on the door at first, so as to wake up the boy before anyone strolled along. After a few moments of this, he slowed the pace of his curled hand and tapped gently, but still patronizingly. He had to wake this kid up, and now. He pressed his lips to the door, and whispered as loudly as he could without shouting. “Tayro! Tayro Wind, come out here this instant! Please!” His voice was laden with fright, and he sounded as though he really didn't want to be the one to do this.

“Wake up, kid!”

As Arco gradually makes his way into the significantly cooler atmosphere of the giant cavern, a complete physical change seems to ripple through his body: his gait becomes straighter and more energetic, the muscles in his face relax somewhat, and his breathing appears to normalize, as opposed to the gasping, deathly strained inhalations he took in the desert above. (He stops panting, anyway, thank the goddesses.) And as if reveling in this change of temperature, he stops on the steps and looks at the sight before him. His eyes stop and focus on the radiant fortress, towards which he then continues to move.

Light... down here?

Reaching the large bridge, Arco begins to walk faster, perhaps because of some renewed motivation not unlikely having to do with the pendant piece in his pocket. His one hand grazes the outline of the broken token on his left side, while (and thus completing a micro-dichotomy of sorts) his other hand pendulums back and forth across his dagger, obscured by this cloak though it may be... The Sheikah moves on the main path, not seeming even to glance at the four other fog-enshrouded options.

With similarly re-dead-like determination, he pushes through the front and back doors of the ramshackle gatehouse and finally stops in the courtyard, where he allows himself the luxury of an upwards, tourist-esque stare...

Mere minutes later, he slips his overly-large-brimmed hat off, shrugs it into a comfortable position on his back, and then gives the door knocker a single, rather average swing.

OOC: I just realized that I could have said, "Arco made his way to the big door in an Arco sort of way" and saved a lot of time. XD Anyway, I should make it clear that, of course, from here on out if (for example) Arco was supposed to be interrupted on his way to the door or something, you have free reign to mod what I wrote so that... whatever needs to happen, happens. *grin*

Where am I...

For one who was just under the ground, with no warm light to bless him on his perilous journeys that were coming, under a ceiling of an ancient castle, this place was filled with warm, embracing rays, a gift from the protecting entity - the sun, above the teenager. Still dressed in that strange fashion, one taught to him by the Orphanage maids as a piece of clothing adequate for sleeping. They called it 'pyjamas', and they were right about that - it sure was comfortable. Under his feet was a lush grassy meadow, extending farther than his own eyes could see. It seemed to be a somewhat blessed area, filled with life and joy, much unlike the place he had just been a few moments ago. Quite on the contrary in regard to the castle - a cursed, lonely and eternal place. In beneath the many grass blades that extended up as a pronounce of peace and justice lied many azure and teal-coloured flowers, dancing happily as the wind slowly caressed them. All was happy, and there he was, in the middle of the hill, with his sleeping clothes, no cloak, no shoes, no staff... but still with his magical stone on his neck. The wind seemed to carry a soothing melody, one he knew so well... and yet he didn't know it at all. The Hylian slipped his hand into his pocket, in which he found his wooden flute, carved out of North Forest's finest trees - or so he thought. Placing his mount on the main orifice, he started playing the melody - the same one as the one he played before going to sleep. The same melody carried on by the wind. A strange duet, it was calm and soothing, and the plants all seemed to turn in the youngster's direction.

There was... a woman here. - he thought, unsure if it was a thought of his own, or an idea slipped into his mind by the melody. At the edge of the hill, he could definitely see a female figure.... though it was too misty at her location - there was no way he could see how she was. Intrigued, the boy ran towards her, his feet making a strange knocking sound instead of the regular *thump* that would be heard when they collided with the grassy soil. He wanted to know who she was... until the knocking sounds got harder every time he stepped, and the mist started spreading out, engulfing the lady more. "No! Wait!" - he spoke out, calling her. He extended his hand forward...

...just to wake up back at the castle with someone knocking at the door and calling him. Just great - now that he was having this wonderful dream, they had to come and ruin it at the most possible worst time. Slightly grumpy, he took the warm sheets from above him, noticing his magical Pearl was dimly glowing, the blue light almost fading out. It was intriguing, but he disregarded it for the while, as whoever was on the other side of the door was not going to give up. Drowsily - as he barely slept 5 minutes, he got up and walked slowly towards the door and slowly opens it - still in the irregular outfit. "Yes? What's wrong?" - he asked to the hooded figure - another one of the Apostles - that now stood before him, his eyes still not completely opened up.

OOC: Don't worry about anything like that, Weien. No point in worrying about what I was planning, because I can always change it slightly to agree with what you write. That's the joy of Roleplay ^_^

IC:

The heavy Thunk! That rang out as a result of Arco's single knock instantly converted itself to a metallic ringing noise. It reverberated out and away from the humble gatehouse, and hugged at the rocky interior of the gloomy cavern. While it certainly alerted whoever was inside said gatehouse at that moment, it also acted as a beacon, which traveled out over the billowy wastes of fog and ruin. From a high rocky stalagmite, a pair of black eyes, void of any iris, pupil or white, gazed amusingly down at the odd man. It licked its quivering black lips, a drop of reeking saliva (also black in color, to keep with the apparent theme of the creature) dropping from its deformed face.

Inside the gatehouse, the sound of an object hitting the ground with a dull Thud!, followed by the shuffling sound of feet, made it quite obvious that Arco was getting the attention he desired. A slit in the door - serving as a peephole for those in charge of the gatehouse - was pulled open, and the sound of a woman's voice inside could be heard saying something along the lines of “What on earth is that?” Now, Arco had probably come to realize that his new appearance was a shock to the eyes of those who did not expect it. The two cloaked guards on the surface had made this obvious enough. The door opened inwardly, beckoning for the burned Sheikah to enter.

Inside was a mess of books, mostly encyclopedias and records. They all showed age, and were laden with dust, their pages ruffled and stained a yellow shade with wear. One open book contained text that was completely illegible - the ink had long since been smeared and was now impossible to discern. Standing at the other end of the room, a paranoid (or perhaps stunned) cloaked person was standing with one hand on the doorknob of the exit, and the other was lost inside the dark cloak. Armed and ready, as had been proven the standard amongst these people.

“Y-you're the one with the Stone, right? I'm sorry! Please, go right ahead, sir!” The young girl's voice was laced with distant respect, but also with fear and concern. She hastily turned the doorknob and gave a quick push, swinging the door out into the courtyard to allow Arco to pass freely. She even bowed a little, which would perplex most, as Arco hadn't even done anything yet!

<center>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</center>

Without a word, the Apostle grabbed Tayro by the hand and began leading him to the the stairwell. Tayro wasn't even dressed properly! It wasn't until the hooded man stopped to talk to the boy and turned around that he noticed. “There's no time to talk! The Intelligent Ones have --” he stopped himself in mid-explanation and placed a hand on his hip, bending over a little in a manner of incredulity. “What the heck? You're not even dressed! Go! Go! Put on the cloak, gloves and boots and follow me!”

The man's tone was becoming demanding, but he obviously had higher seniority as an Apostle than Tayro (who had only started that day!). Coupled with the tone of urgency in his voice, something was seriously wrong.

OOC: Still, I did kind of mess it up in my last post, specifically... XD
IC:

Arco steps into the gatehouse, somewhat rattled by the response of the woman, and apparently not sure what to make of the building. His colorless eyes rove about slightly behind his mask before he continues walking. Then, at the open door of the exit, he stops again by the gatekeeper, and gives her, in the literal Arco sense, a look. It's comparatively brief--comparative, perhaps, to how he used to be with his outwardly visionary moments--but he still pauses long enough to take in the placement of her hands, his own body language, the Stone currently on his person, the color of the air, her facial expression...

(Facial expressions. Sometimes especially facial expressions; perhaps it was how the Sheikah no longer afforded others the benefit of being able to read his facial expressions because of his mask, the idea of seeing one's soul through their eyes along with the entire vocabulary of facial diction had become something of a fixation.)

Before too long, her words make their way into his cognitive center and the Bard gives a little nod, followed by a touch to his own forehead reminiscent of a polite gesture from a far off country, or something. The very little sample of his face that can be seen around his eyes creases slightly, possibly in a smile, and he murmurs, "Thank you."

In the courtyard, Arco steers around the fountain and positions himself at the giant wooden door, on which he raps his knuckles...

Such reaction was quite unexpected. He hardly had a shut-eye, was incredibly drowsy, and was now being pulled around by an unknown member of the Apostles yelling incoherent phrases about something "Intelligent" - though the youth failed in grasping the meaning due to his apparent lack of rest noticeable by his sluggish movements. Maybe the Dream Tapper was needed for his intellect? The prospect was unlikely, though he couldn't be sure, and now was also not the time to ponder as he barely had the time to get loose from the cloaked individual's hand. That is, until the peculiar obvious remark denoting Tayro's physical attire, of course. What did the man - or woman - expect? He had just woken up, and was subsequently dragged along the cold hall of the castle. He hadn't learned how to perform clothes-changing spells, if there was actually one to do so. As he was let free, he thought of sending a glare to the unknown character, yet his sleepiness didn't allow him to. Besides, he had just started, and was not looking to make enemies already.

Cold... - he thought, as his bare feet would sends shivers up his spine every single time he attempted to step on the chilly stone flooring. Sure, he had been in worse situations - like being barefoot on the snow as per a dare by his friends - but being in such warm clothing every single time apparently had made him somewhat susceptible to the cold. Hurriedly - not to please the robed person but to quench his curiosity of what was going on with the "Intelligent" keyword - he moved towards his own quarters, closing the door firmly so that the unidentified person would not see him change. Besides, how could he be sure if said person was male or female? Removing his soft silk clothing and placing them once again on his cloak pocket, he dressed up as fast as he could - yet with a dark attire over his regular blue garments. The boots weren't all disturbing, yet the gloves and cloak were rather fidgety. He never liked gloves, not even in Winter. These made his hand movements quite hard, and lessen his grip on his staff. If he was to let go of his weapon while casting a spell, there'd be a catastrophe. The latter, however, was a distinct matter, as the junior mage, as his class would say, is used to wearing these long clothes. The matter was that... I hate hoods so much. - he commented inwardly, fidgeting with the dark cloth covering his face. It lowered his eyesight, besides being incredibly hot and uncomfortable. Still, if everyone used it, there had to be a reason - he thought - so he got in full attire, suffering from a great increase of heat, and went out into the hall once again.

More awake from the sudden haste, he walked towards the Apostle still standing there. "Now can you explain exactly what's wrong? And maybe who you are?" - he inquired, shooting the cloaked individual a cold glance - not that it'd be noticed under that shifty hood.

OOC: Ergh, sorry for such a long wait, Weien. I hate leaving your part hanging, but I try to aim for two of the three different happenings in each post. We can thank Tayro for finally posting

IC:

As Arco's knuckles rapped out a hearty Thunk! Thunk! on the hard oak doors, a few small puffs of dust drifted lazily from their lazy positions on wood and floated aimlessly outwards at the burned Sheikah. There was no sound coming from behind the great doors of the foreboding castle, but someone had to have been home at the time. Perhaps the girl from the gatehouse could help the strange bard in some way...

That would be unnecessary, however, for just as all hope for entry seemed diminished, the doors creaked open slowly. Whoever was guarding the door was right to take caution; no one in the ranks of the underground organization ever knocked anymore. Asking permission to enter using that age-old method of rapping one's fist against a hard, flat portion of wood was a definite sign of a stranger who just happened to find himself in a strange place. How fitting a situation for Arco, it seemed.

A cloaked man - slightly shorter than the average grown man - poked a head around the door at the man standing at its threshold. The hood hung loosely over his head, preventing access to facial features, race, sex and other important insights of character. The latter of these was easily determined by his voice. He spoke politely, but nervously and with great apprehension. And it made good sense; he was alright with being given all the jobs no one wanted to do (such as guarding this great hulking door and patrolling the Training District), but the former was supposed to be a thrill-less task. Characters like Arco seldom came along. Never, actually. The hooded one had never greeted a stranger at the main door.

“You're... you're Parco Bizzikin the Ard, aren't you?” he almost shouted with glee and excitement. Without even realizing his embarrassing mistake, he continued. “Miss Gorman is waiting for you just inside here!” The man, who now was quite obviously only a young lad, pushed the door open all the way and stepped hastily out of the way to allow “Parco” to enter the castle.

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The Apostle could not help but grin at the boy's hatred for gloves and hoods. He was obviously getting quite warm underneath the black facade of his guise, despite the light material that the clothing was composed of. The man personally found the uniform to be quite comfortable, and it was the ultimate means of masking one's identity. With a wavering voice, he stepped back a few paces and turned on his feet to face the stairs. “There's no time for introductions!” he replied sharply before taking off at a run down the stairs, urging the youth to follow.

“Hurry up, junior! We have to go to the Hospitality District now!" the unidentified man yelled up the stairs, his worried voice filling the stairwell. Tayro would have to wake up a little more if he wanted to keep up with the senior Apostle, and that would be the preferred course of action. Something urgent clearly needed tending to.