OOC: This Lore Story contains adult themes such as Depression, Rage, and mild graphic scenes of violence. If you are not able to handle this (or feeling squeamish), please click away. You have been warned. ~-(+)-~ "I have long since felt the pain. Now, I make it known."Beluar had returned to the Sewers, but oddly not with the intent of finding out about what had happened with the Withered Roses-no, he wasn't an idiot and he played the part he was given. It had hurt his physical body to keep up the act, but at least it was easy enough for him to set the stage of a dramatic downfall from grace. He hated showing the man behind the masks to anyone that he may attempt to get close to but little did Alethia or anyone in the Withered Roses-or Withered Council-know that he was the kind of man to hide behind the masks and play his little games. Why Beluar chose to return to the sewers would be beyond anyone's guess, but he was all too aware of the fact that it would appear as normal as it could be for a Crimson Witch to return to such a dreary and dark place. With the stage set for his downfall working perfectly, he had retreated back into the shadows. It helped that back in his own familiar territory, he could let out his frustrations-the pent up anguish and nearly intolerable fire in his gut that constantly threatened to surface and commit great acts of murder-but he was always far too careful. Years of being trained as a warrior had honed his ability to understand the basic concepts, but he was no trained assassin-merely an actor with the skills to deceive his foes. He smiled as he neared another corner of the sewers, returning to the familiar spot just above the lowest level of the sewers, but his smile was not one of violent intent. The way he smiled was wicked as if pleased with the outcome, but even for him, things would continue to get rough. "They never learn to suspect." Beluar would mutter to himself as he went down to the pit, finding little activity save for his own presence and some little mice scurrying about. The way he spoke was not the 'normal' dark and seductive tone, but more of a monstrous hissing with a heavy tone of a western Dread Empire accent-full of malice and deceit. Within the quiet and lonely scene, he made sure that the final mask fell within his mind-the final barrier to break between the real Beluar and the masks he wore. As that final mask fell to the ground, Beluar would be grinning wide with ecstasy and amusement as if he was incredibly happy that it went off without a hitch. A few moments later and his smile would turn from a happily wicked grin to a depressed frown because he had to keep up these charades to hide his real intentions-intentions to cause as much havoc as possible. He thought that causing as much havoc as possible was a bit generic for someone like him, but it was his orders at least. For Beluar, this was merely a job to complete and get back home safely, but it took him over a year to set himself up in Regalia. Now, his plans remain secret and locked down tight. However, the one thing he realized he would have to do is make sure no one figured out he was working for someone and he excelled in keeping up a decent act. Beluar climbed down the ladder after a few more minutes of walking and climbing down the ladders to the familiar spot, but as he neared the familiar site-his destination-he would mutter into the shadows... "They say that we have a light to guide us through the Darkness-to find our way in a world gone dark. I have seen people get snuffed out and die peacefully, but the pain I carry is always for the life I could have lived. I have long since felt the pain. Now I make it known. My light is not bright, but it helps to part the Darkness in my life. I carry a Shadowed Light..." He thought back to his Kaahl back home and the joy he would feel once he returned... ...the joy being back among his fellow Crimson Witches.
