A sense of discretion {Open}

[NightshadeVII]

“Life and death are one thread, the same line viewed from different sides.” -Lao Tzu

Hooves thundered over the ground without effort. An organic part of the early morning silence, the calm, somehow not seeming to disturb the forest. Trees folded in on one another, tangling up, creating canopies and secluded paths, isolated from the rest of the world by a weaving pattern of wood and leaves. In this tunnel, the light of the moon could barely reach through, leaving a velvet-like darkness, embracing every surface, making the world seem soft. Inviting almost. This time of day, when the world was asleep, had always been the most accepting of creatures such as the Dullahan, astride a dark grey horse. It provided a certain level of anonymity, a relief from fear of being judged, written off as a monster and a moment free from worry.
Changing his grip on the reins the dullahan, Samael, tugged lightly at the leather straps, careful not to hurt the horse. Beneath him, the animal reacted instantly, slowing down, going from a steady trot, to a relaxed walk, catching its breath, even though it wasn't really needed. Slowly, Samael reached out with a gloved hand, patting the side of the animal's neck, wanting to tell it that it did good, despite lacking the appropriate vocal cords to do so. At first, it seemed like the horse just enjoyed it, however, soon it looked over it’s shoulder, fixing one large, intelligent eye on its rider.
You better bring me more apples next time, it seemed to say, with that look alone.
Luckily, Samael knew that look, had seen it before, and shrugged, an action akin to shake his head with silent laughter. Then, he gave the horse on last pat on the neck, firmer, sealing the deal. Letting his gaze fall on the stars that managed to peek through the trees above, Samael leaned back in the saddle, his grip on the reins loose. The cool, early morning air whispered through the trees, accompanied by the tapping of branches hitting one another, casual confrontation. Rocks and dry leaves crunched under hooves, propelled into the air.
Like this, Samael lost track of time, peace taking over his system, calming solitude. For a moment, he could almost imagine that he had gone back in time, to that point of his life where he didn't have to be so careful everywhere. But then he saw the first streaks of sunlight clawing its way over the inky sky, traveling like coloured tearstains.
He hadn't planned to stay out here for so long. He should have been gone hours ago, while it was still dark, hoping he would be able to avoid too many eyes fixed on him or that one question that shouldn't have been asked. By now, that was no longer an option.
A tug at the reins, and he guided the horse towards the stable, he had rented a stall in at the edge of the suburbs.

The sun began to fall through the windows of the stable and the city was waking up, getting ready for the new day to come. There had always been something special to a human dawn, how it seemed to be so full of hope. It was new life, new chances for so many.
But the dullahan had lost track of time, it hadn't been his intention, but, inevitably, it happened and it overcomplicated the plans he had made. Unnecessary complications.
Samael finished up grooming his horse after the long ride, patting its neck once more as a parting. Glass soon materialized shaping a featureless head, whilst it wouldn't pass a close inspection by human eyes, he might come off as relatively human in a quick passing.
It would have to do.
In a deft movement, Samael had slung a backpack over his shoulder, having packed everything in it, aware of the reports he carried in it as well. His original plan had been to turn those in before the city woke up like it did now. But that was too late now and either way, the reports were done and had to be turned in.

Out of habit, the dullahan tugged at his hood for the third time, trying to tug it further over his featureless face, even though it really couldn't do much more than it already did. Keeping his gaze on the pavement, head down, he weaved through the crowd, barely brushing against the humans around him, but not apologizing as he did so, he would simply nod in their direction and continue, before they could get a good look at him.
In the city, swarming with living beings, everything was a mess of signals. Some more alive than others, and some barely dragging their carcass of a body around, slowly decaying from the inside out without them realizing. A brief flash of an existence, but never less meaningful because of it. In a city like Wathais, countless lives touched within the span of a day, making it impossible to keep track of anything or anyone in the turmoil. A face seen once, would soon fade into the river of impression, slip to the back of the mind and life would go on.
But to the dullahan, not necessarily among the living nor the dead himself, the many lives, how they bustled, was like a room full of noise and colour, blurred clarity, entirely unique from one moment to another, a mass of overstimulation.
In the long run, it was overwhelming, tiring.

After some time, one of the buildings he had come to recognize towered before him. WDSA headquarters. A polished facade, standing proud, dwarfing whoever walked past and most buildings around it, not necessarily through physical size, but through importance. The air around it seemed heaiver. For a moment, Samael could almost trick himself into thinking that the reports in his bag grew heavier along with the air, even though he knew they didn't. Slowly, he became aware of the fact, that he hadn't been in the building for a while. The joys of being a consulting officer, called to the scene, but not necessarily the place he was employed.

Once inside, shoes sounding far too loud against the floor for Samael's liking, he walked the route he had walked before, focused, not wanting to be seen by too many. With a flash of ID and badge, the dullahan was just a bit closer to getting this all over with. People swarmed in here, just like the streets of the city. Just as busy, just as overwhelming.
He always forgot how busy some people were here at the WDSA, narrowly avoiding collision with a secretary, talking hastily in a headset.
Quietly removing a small collection of reports from his bag, the dullahan began to look for where he might turn them in. Everything looked so different when there were more people present, chatting, taking care of calls, or fixing up reports of their own. Usually he would just drop off the reports and leave again, late night, early morning, and disappear, somewhat unnoticed, after all, Dullahans didn't exactly blend flawlessly into a crowd.
However, somehow he doubted that would be the case now.

[Pearl Dragon]

There was a small parting of the crowd as a short, stocky woman accompanied by two other assistants called out brisk "Excuse me, ya'll. Make way, we need some space please and thank ya kindly. S'cuse me, pardon pardon."

Although they kept the crowd parted, faces turning curiously to see what it was that space was being cleared for, they all laid eyes on....well....nothing. Behind the medium was simply a large gap, but at the same time, if people rudely decided that it was all for naught, any who re-entered the space would immediately feel a slight, icy rush followed by a spike of anxiety and nausea, causing them to brush their arms with chills and look all around, confused. One such person, making a 'tsch' sound after seeing the empty space, then gave a rather dramatic gasp as she too felt the odd sensations.

"I told ya, sweet heart. Make way." The medium said rather-of-factly over her shoulder as she continued to make her way through the halls.

The fact was, the nothing that followed behind them wasn't actually a nothing. It was a spirit, and an enormous one too. Unstable, broken, and still in the midst of recuperation. However, under the last week or so of careful monitoring and care of the WDSA medium, the spirit had finally been cleared for release after the incident involving an attack on agent Aaron Telmore and Sara Summers. The spirit in question, had been directly linked to Ms. Summers, and was brought in as both a witness and a victim of the attack. Bruse's mental stability had been unpredictable from the start of his containment, resulting in multiple episodes of delusional behavior, violent fits of spiritual anxiety, and long hours of prone staring with no response whatsoever, even when the medium attempted to make contact. Recently, however, the spirit had shown signs of improvement, responding to the medium when asked questions, feeding normally on the dark energies provided to him to help his massively weakened state, and even maintaining a stable, rebuilt form.

Karen, the main Medium in charge, had finally given the O.K. on the spirit's psych evaluations, and Bruse was now to be escorted out of HQ to return to his place of residence. However, there seemed to be a short snag in the plan, as the spirit suddenly halted and stood in the hallway, flickering uncertainly. The time that had passed for him had felt so long, lonely and longing for his Bonded companion, that actually being outside of his containment cell left him feeling exhausted and weary. Slowly, he slumped to his haunches and leaned to the side until he was lying with his feet and hooves curled near to his body, eyes mere exhausted slants, unwilling to continue.

"Oh no, Bruse, hun. C'mon now, don't be stubbern. Le's get you outta this here dump and back where y'all belong." Karen insisted, walking back to the empty space. Some of the onlookers whispered to each other, gossiping and joking about Karen talking to the open air, to which Karen would then shoot a daggered look in their direction. Bruse simply looked down at Karen and gave a low, deep groan that only she could hear, and perhaps a few others nearby who were sensitive to the metaphysical. "Dun make me get the metakinetics in here ta drag y'all to your feet, naow." She said, trying to scold him into moving, but he remained there, wanting only silence and solitude. Wanting only to meditate and connect with Sara. Still, Bruse ignored Karen, and simply closed his eyes, at least until he sensed someone nearby, someone inhuman and as he opened his eyes, he glimpsed a peculiar figure of a man who seemed to walk between the barrier that was life and death, a strange energy pouring from within that reminded Bruse of his homeland. He'd seen these beings before, on the Irish countryside. Dullahan. The spirit regarded the man warily with a slow, flickering gaze.

[NightshadeVII]

It was a conscious decision to avoid paying anyone any particular mind, not really because he wished to be rude or offend anyone, more because multiple day-encounters with humans had been less than pleasant. Reminding himself that all he was here to do was turn in some reports, somehow didn't quite help. Picking up small snippets of conversation, how someone had slept, what another person’s plans for the weekend was, he kept his head down, making quick work of dropping off the reports where they were meant to be.
As soon as this had been done, he turned to leave, to weave a path through the people present.
Yet, people were told to step back by an insisting voice, female, at once both gentle and steady. Easily looking over the heads of many employees, the dullahan tried to figure out the whats and the whys. Then he saw the woman parting the crowd, curly hair framing her face like a halo. It took Samael a while to pinpoint what made her different, why she felt off, but as realization dawned, it was as clear as day. A medium, possibly escorting a ghost out of the building. However, Samael had done what he came here to do, on edge, being worn down by the many lives around him, he didn't pay much attention to the ghost behind the medium, before he resumed his quiet walk out of the room.

Until he heard a groan, heavy with obscure misery, that reached into the core of the listener, it was almost something felt, rather than something heard. This made him stop. It had been so long since he had heard a sound like that, bringing forth the unwelcome feeling of deja vu. However, curiousity made him return his gaze to the medium and to the spirit he had glimpsed. And what he saw, caused his core being to flare up for a moment, until it settled again, calm but aware. Massive in size, the shell that gave it shape dark as a lake at night. Alert in the same instance, Samael ignored the urge to step back.
Why was the spirit just lying there on the floor, curled up to itself?
Upon further study, the dullahan began to notice small fluctuations in the shell of the spirit as if it was just trying to keep itself together. As he watched, the ghost’s shell seemed to split along its side, only to reseal itself shortly after. Unstable, indecisive fluctuations.
What had happened to it? What creature could have done so much damage to a dark spirit?
But then he saw the eyes. The eyes were different, didn't belong to such a dark spirit. They reflected something else, not quite soft, yet not twisted or agressive. Bright and aware, seeing but not lashing out to consume and devour. The green glow of it's core true, contradicting its darkened shell.
And it was looking at him, looking right at the dullahan, seeming to see Samael, sending an electrical current akin to a shiver down his spine. That feeling, that feeling that the ghost actually could see the line Samael walked, it was just as tangible as everything around around, perhaps even more so. Essence flared up, swirled, split between reaching out and retreating further into himself, shy away from the spirit. Curiousity and cautiousness tangled together in his mind, leading everything to contradict.

Samael had no idea what lead him to step closer, couldn't pinpoint the origin of the impulse, but step closer he did. Weaving through the crowd of people, muttering a small sorry as he bumped into someone, keeping his voice suitably quiet. Glancing briefly up at the medium, he gave a nod to prove, that he too saw the spirit and intended to do it no harm.
Moving slowly, so as not to startle or distress the spirit, he crouched down on the carpeted floor, a good distance from the ghost, but still away from the mass of people whispering about the medium. Then he held up a hand, a small wave, a greeting without words, minimalistic movements acknowledging the spirit.
A tilt of his head, one of the more expressive movements he could pull off while crouching, showed his reserved curiosity.

Aware of the people still standing around, he hesitated to speak. Samael looked over his shoulder, almost more uncomfortable with the many people than he was with the one dark spirit. However, at this point, he had already begun to doubt the nature of the creature, wether or not it actually was as malicious as it's shell made it out to be.
Then, finally deciding to pointedly ignore the onlookers in the room, he spoke.
“Can you hear me?”, he started out asking, a simple question, the words accompanied by a delayed echo and a strange sound, a hollow droning, not quite like the wind howling between trees, heavier, it seemed to cease to exist as soon as he stopped speaking.
“I don't want to hurt you...”, Samael then added, in case he hadn't made it clear through body language. The last thing he wanted was to scare the ghost.

“Are you alright?”, came another soft-spoken question, even though it was obvious the spirit was far from alright. If the problem could be isolated, it might be easier to take care off, not necessarily solve, but merely recognize.
“Can I do anything to help?”

[Pearl Dragon]

Bruse huddled as he watched the Dullahan closely, not quite acknowledging Karen's words of encouragement to stand and continue walking. His attention was now focused and the Dullahan seemed to notice him too, stepping now through the crowd to approach the larger spirit. He could see the shadowy aura of the being reaching out, cautious but curious, torn between wanting to interact and also wanting to keep distance.

As the Dullahan approached, Karen perked up and nodded back to him. "Ah, Sam, nice to see ya. You two 'r alike, amiright? Maybe you can talk sum sense into 'im." She stepped back to allow the taller figure to approach and watched with arms folded over her bosom. "He just won't budge. Dunno what 'is problem is. Big oaf, I've got cows ain't as stubbern as this 'un."

Bruse bristled slightly, uncertain as to what the Dullahan agent would do, but relaxed a bit at the sound of his voice. It passed easily through the barrier and Bruse could hear every doubled echo as if the man were speaking more than just once. And, although he had no face, Bruse could sense his curiosity. He looked down at Sam as he crouched and tilted his featureless head at the spirit. "Can you hear me? I don't want to hurt you...Are you alright? Can I do anything to help?" Bruse listened, his eyes brightening at the man's words, before he shifted a bit where he lay.

His eyes drifted half closed again, tired and distant. He reached out with his mind to the Dullahan, mingling his mind with the other's and began to relay a sort of picturesque sequence of thought-images. Flashes of blood, distress, screaming, terror, objects whirling about a darkened, chaotic room, and the bright light of his Bonded's spirit. They were memories, of course, seeming distant now to Bruse. They were all clouded and intermingled with the hallucinations that he'd suffered from that night. He then followed it up with a repetitive series of visions of the containment he had spent the last few weeks in, how it seemed like an eternity, interrupted only by the onslaught of nightmares that would occasionally trickle through his Bond from Sara. When he was finished, he recoiled from the Dullahan's mind and opened his eyes once more to gaze upon the other being.

"You are of life and death...." Bruse started to say, his voice also a deep, doubled echo, thrumming weakly. It was inaudible to the mortals around them, and only Sam and Karen could hear his voice. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should ask about Sara's wellbeing. They had all assured him Sara was fine, and he could still feel her through the Bond, but he had no way of knowing for sure how she was doing. This was one of the few beings he knew of that would know for sure. "Sara Summers....human....she is alive? Are you....to meet with her soon?" He asked.

[NightshadeVII]

Almost too preoccupied with the spirit, Samael hadn't noticed the medium moving until she addressed him directly, speaking with that accent he had come to know.
"Ah, Sam, nice to see ya. You two 'r alike, amiright? Maybe you can talk sum sense into 'im. He just won't budge. Dunno what 'is problem is. Big oaf, I've got cows ain't as stubbern as this 'un."
Perhaps, stubborn wasn't the word Samael would use, far from it in fact, but he didn't know how he would explain it at all, so maybe it was better if he just didn't try. Sometimes, observing without twisting the observations into an explaination, gave the clearest picture. So for now, he fully intended to listen to the spirit, if he decided to talk.

The dullahans reserved manner faded slightly as he saw the spirit’s eyes brighten, proving that it could hear him, that he had heard him. That was always a good place to start, had the spirit not been able to hear him, nothing he could say would have mattered.
Then, the next thing the spirit did took Samael by surprise. Minds connected, a string-like sensation, transferring images from one to the other. At first, in the first tender moments of connection, the images blurred together, mingled and washed out, momentary flashes of colour, making it impossible to tell what happened. Slowly, the images, the thoughts and sensations began to clear up, make sense of themselves. A room, blood splattering across the walls, as if a painter was throwing it around in buckets, there was so much blood, too much blood, more than what one should survive loosing, objects whirling around in a furious dance, hoping to hit anything at all. Terror weighed down the very air, a tangible presence, screams, snarls and hisses all intermingled. Pure chaos. And there, in the middle of it all, a bright light, beckoning like a hand held out, the light of a life. But even this was twisted by hallucinations suffered.
There was a brief pause, allowing the dullahan to compose himself, feeling the desperate need to gather his own being up, as if he had been the one to be torn around the room like the wind.
Then the isolation came. Crushing loneliness, confined to a glass cage, tainted by droplets of nightmares, mere shadows of what the spirit’s light went through.
Without even realizing, Samael had raised a hand, as if to touch the metaphysical string connecting him to the spirit, feeling it just as much as the carpet beneath his feet. A slight twitch of his hands, as he wished to snap the mental thread, but refrained from doing so, letting the spirit finish what it started.
Once the spirit retreated, returned wholly to its own mind, Samael briefly glenched his hand, before he returning his gaze to the spirit, seeing it open its eyes.

"You are of life and death....", the spirit began, enlisting a nod from Samael. A walker of the line, not quite living, not quite dead. Having seen what the spirit had experienced, he could almost imagine the questions it must be wanting answers for. Being kept out of the loop, isolated when someone so important had been in danger, was a sure way to fill a mind with worries.
"Sara Summers....human....she is alive? Are you....to meet with her soon?"
That name, it was familiar. Even if he was rarely in the office, Sara was quite the celebrity, known and liked by so many. Now, the dullahan had questions of his own. Why would anyone want to hurt someone like her?

“You have a bond with her, don't you? Sara...”, Samael asked, shifting slightly on the ground. If anything, he would feel slightly uneased answering the question the spirit had asked. While he had heard of bonds like this before, he had never seen them like this and, from the brief glimpse he caught of it, he would assume that the spirit would know what state Sara was in better than anyone. However, lives were different, like the fingerprints of the owners, and could therefore be isolated. If he knew what to look for, it was much easier to find.
He remained quiet for a moment, before answering the spirit.
“Yes... she is alive...”, he said, “However, I don't know if I’ll get the chance to meet her. After all, I’m not that much of a frequent visitor around here and I don't want to startle her, being a person she hasn't seen much showing up... she doesn't need that.”
For a moment the shadowy aura, the core being of the dullahan recoiled, ashamed that he couldn't do more for the spirit, wishing that he could.
Averting his gaze from the spirit, he looked around, much more aware of the stuffy room full of lives, now that he had seen the brief flashes of isolation it had experienced. A room like this, a room in the same organization none the less couldn't be the most pleasant. It didn't take much thought befor the dullahan reached a decision.

“Bruse, was it?”, Samael asked, wanting to make sure that he addressed the spirit properly. Slowly, the dullahan rose, keeping eye contact with the spirit, its form still unstable for reasons unknown to him.
“Do you want to get out of here?”, another gentle question, not wishing to upset the spirit without reason, “you’ve been trapped here for quite a while now, longer than I think I’d want to know... so, do you want a change in scenery?”
With the words came the unspoken, but genuine promise to lead the spirit out of the building, to somewhere that didn't reek of murder or loneliness.
Quickly, he looked to Karen, hoping for the medium’s approval, then as she had answered, one way or another, he would return his gaze to the spirit.

[Pearl Dragon]

The Dullahan seemed to answer Bruse's question in quite a literal sense, allowing the larger spirit to mentally relax slightly. He had heard the question regarding Sara as more of a question of being introduced to Sara, not visiting to retrieve her soul or escort her to the afterlife. That was good, and so Bruse accepted his answer without pressing for more, knowing that Sara was at least well enough to not draw the attention of a being such as a Dullahan.

Bruse nodded to the question about the bond, confirming that he was indeed spiritually tethered to the human and then, as the Dullahan made an offer to lead Bruse out of the building, the spirit obliged. With a distant groan, Bruse pushed himself back up to a sitting position and then got his back hooves back underneath of him so that he was now standing at his full height once more. The crowd hustled and bustled past, and some even through, the spirit, but Bruse tried his best to ignore the mortals. To him, it was like being in a blurred, rushing river of movement and life, both slow and fast, and he focused as best he could on the medium and the Dullahan. Karen clapped her hands 3 times in delight and beamed at Samuel. "OOOOH SAM! Y'all are a wonder, I can't thank ya enough!" After the offer was made, Karen nodded to Sam in approval and bid he lead the way. In her knowledge, she guessed maybe all the big spirit needed was a new face, and perhaps someone more like himself to guide the way, which if it meant encouraging the ghost safely from the building and on its way home, she was all for it. Bruse shifted where he stood for a moment, clopping one hoof against the cold tiled floor the way a hesitant horse might and causing a few heads to turn in confusion, as he waited for the Dullahan to lead the way. Oddly enough, he found it was much easier to follow the shadowy Fae through the crowd thanks to their half-metaphysical existence, and kept his focus on Sam. Once Sam began moving, he might find that the ghostly clip clop of hooves, and soft padding of paws was close behind him, obedient and willing.

However, there was a brief lapse of confusion as Bruse felt his hunger flare for a moment at the sight of the wispy, shadowed aura of the Dullahan and his maw began to split slightly into a yawn as he trudged along after Sam. Karen noticed and clicked her fingers at Sam to warn him, before snapping at Bruse to cool it. "Hey, watch! Watch it now, no! Sam is not food, Bruse. Come back to us, hun, we'll get ya outta here to hunt soon enough. Don't wanna be eatin' sumthin' or someone you don't know. I know ye, you don't do well with foreign foods." She said, remembering through trial and error the particulars of the spirit's diet. They had to go through quite the trouble to find an energy source that wouldn't cause the spirit to become ill, and Dullahan was certainly not part of a fitting diet, despite their appearances.

Bruse snapped to and closed his maw, gazing down at the Dullahan and his shadowy aura. Right. Not evil. Just dark.

[NightshadeVII]

When he first heard the ghost groan, Samael feared that he had said something wrong, that the spirit would remain unmovable, curled up on the floor. Perhaps the cautious suggestion had come out wrong. Then, as the spirit rose, taking it's time to steady itself, the icy blue slivers in the dullahan’s essence, glowed brighter, flickered and danced for a moment, the closest he cloud get to smiling properly. As he was capable of seeing the spirit, he had to fight the urge to speak up and stop agents and office workers from walking through Bruse, however, with the state the spirit was in, he figured that it would be better if he could get out quickly and quietly.
"OOOOH SAM! Y'all are a wonder, I can't thank ya enough!"
Karen’s voice made the Dullahan turn. Then he inclined his head at the curly haired medium.
“You're welcome, but, it's the least I can do, really.”, he said, his voice still lowered so as not to attract unnecessary attention, “it's my pleasure.”

The first thing he would focus on was get Bruse out of the stuffy office and hopefully somewhere where the air was cleaner, where he wouldn't be overwhelmed by the many noises and lives. As he began to walk, guiding the spirit towards the exit, he head a clopping of hooves against the floor. For a moment, his thoughts flashed back to Cracker, his own horse, back where he had left her in the stables, how she had nudged him with her muzzle, insisting that he hadn't brought enough apples. That horse was quite the negotiator, a compelling negotiator, far too good at what she did. With a shake of his head, he carried on, back more straight now that he had a sense of purpose, something to do. Even if it wasn't something he had planned, there was comfort in purpose, no matter what kind. Knowing what to do and when, how to do it. With self imposed standards and moral, in spite of his nature, the black and white which it used to be, he wanted to see things like this, from an integrated perspective, not from the perspective of some disconnected fae.
Weaving through the many people present, he nodded in greeting to whoever he gained “eye”-contact with. Focused on the immediate task, he failed to notice the ghost’s maw opening behind him.

A sharp sound, clicking fingers, made the Dullahan stop and turn, seeing the ghost. Another flare of essence, this time, more restrained, compact, bunching up to protect itself as a first reaction. Just then, the medium to began to speak.
"Hey, watch! Watch it now, no! Sam is not food, Bruse. Come back to us, hun, we'll get ya outta here to hunt soon enough. Don't wanna be eatin' sumthin' or someone you don't know. I know ye, you don't do well with foreign foods."
As soon as Bruse seemed to return to himself, return to his own mind and gaze down at the Dullahan, Samael performed a gesture, half a shrug, half spreading his arms.
“Yeah, I,apologize...”, he said, “I know I look like food, don't think I would taste all that good, though.”
He hoped that this comment could smooth the little occurrence down. Completely aware of his appearance, he knew why he could easily be mistaken for something much more sinister, having experienced it more times that he'd care to count. The encounters, while unpleasant and hurting his pride more than it seemed, remained a consequence of what he looked like, his behavior and what he did. Most weren't that fond of death after all, tended to avoid it at all cost, so coming face to face with a manifestation of that very concept was perhaps more than a little overwhelming.
Once again, he looked to Karen, trusting that the medium knew more about the spirit than he did, which wasn't really all that hard.
“What does he eat? He wouldn't happen to eat crackers, would he? Other spiritual entities then?”, he asked, hating that he had to ask so many questions, “where would it be best to take him hunting?”
No matter the woman’s suggestions, Samael would do his best to carry them out, taking the spirit to where he could recover best.

[Pearl Dragon]

"Nah, not crackers, hun. His diet's a bit less...tangible." Karen said in answer to Samuel's question. She followed alongside the faceless man, keeping a close side-eye on Bruse as she went, but for now Bruse seemed to be following along rather distractedly. Every now and again, the large spirit would close his eyes to the world around him as he followed, fading and flickering out of shape before coalescing back into his form. Karen gave Samuel a concerned look as they continued, and proceeded to explain what the WDSA had learned while overseeing his recovery.

"Seems tah like shadows and such. Ain't many to be had around here, as most what he prefers are a bit, uh. Evil? We've tried simple energies. Nothin. Then, some simple shadow essence, just a touch of old fashioned shadowmancy. Nothin', er at least...he didn't take too well to it. Spat it out, wouldn't look at it again, but at least we'd found a start. Instinct seems ta drive 'im to feed, but I think it's more to do wit' his tastes. Some things we'd tried makes 'im sick as a dog. Never quite saw a spirit get sick, but it'd mess him up right quick. One hunch we had, was to enlist the help of a spirit demon who works here, janitor. He's nothin' mean, actually quite a nice fellow fer a demon. Had him come try and make our friend a meal, but Bruse here at him whole right as he walked in the door! Messed him right up quick too, and the poor janitor, well. He come out all right since, though he's not the same. A little...chewed up. He's in med wing now, gettin' patched. No hard feelin's. We narrowed it down tah alignment. It's gotta be dark, but not just in general. Gotta be DARK dark. Like evil, ya know? So we did sum diggin', found 'im some tasty curses we'd been meanin' to break down, and lickity split, he gobbled em right up like a hog at the trough. Ya followin'?"

Karen stopped a moment to look back over at Samuel, curious to see if he was keeping up with her southern drawl. Bruse picked his pace up slightly, now hovering slightly from the ground to lean over the two smaller beings. His gaze was fixed forward, sensing the exit drawing near, as if he knew soon he'd be free and past the wards that initially protected the WDSA HQ from outside metaphysical interference and keeping troublesome metaphysical captives contained within. Everyone had to use the front doors to the building, spirits included, and Bruse was intent on finding those front doors.

"He'd make a right good curse disposal unit, but uh. I'm not thinkin' he's too keen on working for our here WDSA. Ain't ya, Bruse?" She looked up at the large floating spirit and chuckled. "He knows we're close. Clever old boy. Anyhoot, ya might wanna take him out to the mountain range. Think his friend Sara lives out that way, been back home recuperating for a few weeks now. And, maybe you can help him get back in the grove of huntin' for himself. He's been spoiled on hand delivered meals too long. Gonna get fat." She laughed again at her own joke, smiling over at Samuel. As they neared the large glass double doors that led out of the lobby and into the front entrance of the building, Bruse paused and floated back to the ground to stand over the other two. His eyes angled down at Samuel almost expectantly. He didn't necessarily want to just bolt out, perhaps afraid that someone might try to rope him back in with a ward spell, but instead waited for some kind of cue. Permission, to leave the confines of the building.

[NightshadeVII]

Hearing his question, the medium began telling Samael about the nature of Bruse, how he had been treated whilst in the care of the WDSA. Sometimes her accent did make it hard to keep up with her, to fully understand, but he got by, even managed to chuckle just slightly at one part. Poor Jantior, he really hadn't signed up for something like that. But he was in recovery, so that was yet another thing that had been taken care of. Like Bruse still needed care, but not from the WDSA, and not from inside of some glass cage. Samael had already thought that the spirit seemed weakened, sapped of energy, but now, hearing he had been worse, the dullahan felt a stab of sympathy, as he looked over his shoulder at the massive form behind them. He was breaking apart as it was. What could have done that to Bruse? What could have inflicted so much pain on an already distressed being? The thought knawed at him, but for now, he tried to push it down, not something for him to worry about, not yet anyway.

"He knows we're close. Clever old boy. Anyhoot, ya might wanna take him out to the mountain range.”, where he had come from, shouldn't be too much of a problem, especially since the humans in the city probably wouldn't really see the massive shape. The dullan just had to hope that his lack of features wouldn't be noticed this time around.
The medium continued to speak, mentioning that Bruse’s bond partner, Sara, lived out by the mountain range. So it would, hopefully, be simple enough, to take Bruse hunting, assist if necessary and then get him back to Sara. Hopefully, that could bring some kind of ease to Bruse, calm him. The spirit had gone through so much stress lately, no wonder he was the way he was. And he had just tried to save a life. But the positive emotions seeing his bond partner, of that reunion, could probably help the healing process.

“-Gonna get fat.", catching the last of that sentence and then hearing the medium’s laughter, Samael chuckled, at least it almost sounded like a chuckle, but not quite. It was what he'd have to settle for either way.
The medium proceeded to smiled at him, making Samael wish that he could return the gesture somehow. But he didn't have mouth nor eyes with which to express something like that. Couldn't return the smile in any way. Maybe he really should consider getting some cue-cards for facial expressions? Even if that idea had started as a joke.
“I'll do my best to take care of him.”, Samael said, voice just slightly lighter than before, having an air of good-natured humor, while still being sincere.

Soon the door came into view, proving just how close the ghost was to the outside world, to being free. Samael had to hope that the sudden change, the shift from silence to the noise of a city, from the confines of concrete walls to the open sky, wouldn't overwhelm Bruse, providing too much contrast, but of course there was only one way to find out about that. Either way the spirit shouldn't stay here, restricted by glass cages. And maybe that opinion wasn't the most popular, but ideals would always clash as long as freedom of thought existed. Soon enough, He could feel the spirit looking at him again, a slight hint of cold, prickling. So he turned, looking up at the massive form above him, how it hesitated. Was it fearing that this was all some joke, that this wasn't real? If he had to be honest, he could understand that, after all, Bruse had nothing but words to go on. And lies lived through words, like they lived through breath.
Cold flames flared up behind the glass surface of the dullahan’s head, his kind of smile, meant to be an encouraging gesture, without relying on words. Looking to the medium, he inclined his head.
“Thank you.”, Was the words he formed, the words that echoed, genuine, “I'll see you soon, Karen.”
Then with his back straight, shoulders pushed back as always, Samael stepped out of the building, out on to the street, head slightly lowered. But he didn't just continue on his way, so Bruse had to catch up. The dullahan stopped, just outside the double doors, and turned around, looking back at Bruse and the medium. In a symbolic gesture, he held out his hand, not really expecting anyone to take it.

“Time to get out for good, don't you think?”, Samael finally said, directly addressing the ghost, “no one’s gonna drag you back...”
He knew it might take some time to get Bruse out, but maybe it didn't. However, when the ghost was out, the dullahan would begin escorting him to the mountain range. Needed to get Bruse back on his feet.

[Pearl Dragon]

“Time to get out for good, don't you think? No one’s gonna drag you back...” the dulluhan said, and no sooner had he spoken those words than Bruse had already looked to the doors and had begun to approach them. As he passed through the glass front of the building and out into the open, he felt as if all of the tense, knotted energy of the inside hustle and bustle suddenly disappeared, feeling like a swimmer finally taking a long breath of air after an extensive dive.

Bruse wavered there, gazing up at the sky until finally his attention turned back to the Dulluhan. He waited, mind already feeling slightly clearer, and then set off to follow the agent to the direction of the mountains. Whichever mode of transportation the agent took, Bruse would follow, and soon the city began to disperse into scatterings of smaller buildings, eventually giving way into the beginnings of sparse trees and wilderness. Still, Bruse would follow, not yet quite trusting his own sense of direction or memory, as they came and went in scattered pieces through his mind.

He hoped Samael knew the way to Sara's home, at least once they'd found something to hunt. Even a small morsel would do. There were plenty in the forests of all sorts, normally hanging about in the shadows or in the husks of dead things.

[NightshadeVII]

There was some weird kind of comfort to how the spirit didn’t demand answers as they walked, how they could just travel in silence, without needing to fill the void with conversation. The moment Bruse had stepped out the WDSA building, the change that the spirit had experienced in that moment was almost tangible to the dullahan. Not that it surprised him, with everything Bruse had been through. The many voices and lives all throughout the building could easily be over whelming, and the sudden change from isolation to being practically surrounded by this... metaphysical noise, as it was, had no doubt drained him.
On that point, Samael felt the same. As someone who was constantly aware of just how alive everything was, WDSA headquarters was at once both an interesting, but exhausting place. There was always full of life, in every form, and it all felt different to him. In some way, it was like having all senses stimulated at the same time, and yet he knew that wasn’t the case. It was something he felt, nothing more.

The dullahan made a short stop underway, picking up Cracker from the stables, knowing that she wouldn’t mind. The sturdy horse almost seemed to give Bruse a skeptic look, despite the fact that she couldn’t see him.

From there, the trio made their way towards the forest. A long time ago, years before Samael even worked for the WDSA, he had stumbled across a clearing, and that was where he would be leading Bruse. The trees had drowned there, leaving only the dried up, empty husks behind, like skeleton fingers bursting out of the ground, reaching up as if to drag themselves out. Many places, the trunks entwined or bent at unnatural angles allowing the sun to cast harsh shadows, that seemed to blur the line of reality, making everything look just a little odd. However, despite the already unearthly appearance of the valley, Samael had noticed, that for some reason, spirits flocked there. The dullahan had tried to communicate with them years ago, but with little success. When the beings had seen him, and had recognized his presence, they had lashed out at him, aggressive and confused, but somehow the entire situation also gave Samael the impression that these spirits didn’t completely see him. Maybe the felt his presence, but it was barely more than that.
So he hoped that Bruse would be able to find something there, to at least get some of his strength back.
“There’s this valley.”, Samael began, turning to look at Bruse, wanting to inform him where they were going, “I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to hunt there.”
The odd glow deep inside his glass head softened, becoming calm. His weird way of smiling.
“After that, we can go to Sara... I’m sure she’ll love seeing you again.”
While Samael spoke to Bruse, Cracker tossed her head just slightly, as if wanting to verify what her rider was saying. Wanting to reconnect with someone, who means so much, but being unable to, like Bruse, must have been unbearable. An ache, something entirely vital missing. And that was just what Samael could imagine.

As the valley finally loomed into view, almost more surreal than Samael remembered it, he could already see the faintest hints of spirits lurking around. And while he didn’t know how sensitive Bruse was to other metaphysical entities, he didn’t doubt that he was better at registering them than the dullahan would ever be.
Already, Samael had decided that if Bruse needed, or requested, assistance he wouldn’t hesitate to lend it. However, he didn’t want to overrule the spirit either, if he wished to hunt alone. So Cracker came to a halt at the edge of the clearing, it wasn’t particularly big, but the hollow trees didn’t leave much space for the barrel-chested horse to weave through, despite her agility. Like the sentry he once was, Samael sat completely still on the horse’s back, observing the clearing. It wasn’t the most active of days, but it wasn’t completely void of entities either. The dullahan just hoped this would be enough.