[Leonard]

The Lost, as he called himself, often tended to wander, but as proof of his youth and inexperience, he never really wandered too far. In fact he rarely ever left Alexandria, where he lived. Today however, he decided that he would stray a bit further. Not too far, however. He had come to New Alexandria to visit The Quadrangle. No he didn't have any specific prayers to pray for, and no he wasn't exactly the religious type. Instead it was something much more simple that had brought him here. It had simply dawned on him that, although he lived so close by to this famous landmark, he had never actually been there before.

That was all the reason he needed to make this little pilgrimage. Considering his destination he had decided to wear something a little more formal today. He wore clean pressed pants that were dark black and a silk white tunic that had ruffles going down the front along the buttoning line. He wore black belts and suspenders, and for outerwear he had a simple black cloak draped around his shoulders. His hair was neatly tied back into a long pony tail. Despite his this, he had opted for his usual black work boots. They were comfortable and the walk was long enough to warrant it.

Of course his clothes were all designed to allow for his long white wings to fit through comfortably. He was still not able to fly, despite his deep longing to wander farther and father away. He kept them calmly folded back behind him so as not to disturb those he passed by as he went on his way.

There was one last odd thing about The Lost. He was wearing an odd white mask. It had tear streams painted on it, flowing down from the eye sockets. At the same time, a large grin was painted on it as well. He was well aware of how odd he looked, but he paid no mind to anyone who decided to stop and stair.

He had decided to visit the statue of Xanth as “The Lost” and not as Leonard.

He arrived at the square, taking in all of it's beauty. As he traveled, his thoughts had run through all the things he could pray for. The fact that he couldn't fly with his human form's wings always bothered him, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. Lately as he had begun venturing out as 'The Lost' he had not been as successful as he would have liked to be. He still had not successfully been able to capture any bounties and he even received few more beating than he would have liked to. He still heard the complaints of his sore, bruised body. With these failings, his financial situation was also starting to become worrying. He was simply draining away what little life savings he had. Lastly, he was feeling quite lonely. He had only recently moved in, and was beginning to hang out in a slightly more seedy scene than he was used to. He did this to gather information on possible targets, and quite frankly it ate up most of his free time. Most of the time he didn't waste wandering. He was having some trouble adjusting to it and fitting in and hadn't made any real contacts yet. Or any friends.

Though perhaps the most worrying thing to him was the wanderlust that he had been stricken with, that constantly weighed heavily on him in the back of his mind, slowly eating away at him.

He ran through all of his thoughts one more time before finally moving up to Xanth's statue. He looked up to it, but didn't kneel. He clapped his hands together and squeezed them tightly.

“Everything's going great,” He said with a smile, underneath his mask's. “Thanks for everything,” He continued.

In the end, he had decided that his problems were his own and that it would be more meaningful if he solved them on his own. It didn't make much sense to complain to someone else but them.

[Dazadi]

Dazadi was on her hands and knees at the base of Xanth's "ooh look at me, I'm all purple and a goddess, ooh la la" statue, her black wings spread slightly for balance.

She was not supplicating, thank you very much. She was rummaging around in one of the offering bowls to see what people had left. “Junk. Crap. Useless. What under Hel would Xanth want with one of those?”

This had become her favourite pastime of late. Things were relatively quiet in the realms and the Empire; she still had plenty to do, but she wasn't rushed mad off her feet like she had been. She only liked to talk to the statue because she could insult Xanth to her heart's content without having the purple-haired wretch talk back (usually. Sometimes, the statue got up and swatted her like a fly), but one day she'd started looking in the bowls out of curiosity, and now it had become almost a weekly ritual.

She couldn't remove items, though. She'd tried once when she was much younger (not to steal, just to see if she could because it bothered her that people left valuable items there with no thought for thieves), and found the items very firmly glued into the bowls — only to have disappeared the next time she swung by.

It wasn't like she particularly wanted anything the morons had left, anyway, but just taking it off Xanth's hands would be plenty fun. “They never offer me anything.” And she was the one who did most of the work!

“Everything's going great.” Nimbly bouncing to her feet, and fluffing her electric blue-tipped bangs, Dazadi leaned to her left to get a look at who was talking on the other side of the lilac and purple marble plinth. Ordinarily, that would be the extent of it; she'd grown no more social in her old age than when she was a recruit. Cuddling with Dante on a cold winter night was about as touchy-feely as she got — and he liked to cuddle about as much as Daz liked thorns in her pants.

Which was pretty much what cuddling with a big black tiger amounted to, anyway.

But as soon as Daz spotted the mask, the guy was done for, and she rounded the statue with a peal of laughter and a spark in her blue eyes. “Theatre's that way.”

[Leonard]

Just as The Lost was about to turn around and go wander the area in search of food, he heard a voice call out to him.

“Theatre's that way.” she teased.

He turned to face her, his eyes searching out hers from behind his mask. The mask hid his expression, but its combination of crying and smiling was much more interesting than anything he could manage.

“Thank you,” he said with a slight bow. “I'll be sure to frequent it often,” He did honestly enjoy the theater. He acted as if he didn't pick up that she was teasing him. Either that or he was just ignoring it.

He took a step closer, around the statue.

“Perhaps, you could accompany me one night?” He said with a flare of confidence in his voice. He had actually spent some of his free time with actors at the theater. They had taught him plenty. For example, the skill of showing confidence with out the expressions of the face. He accomplished this through his voice and his posture. He stood up straight, but was still relaxed, leaning to the side an arm stretched out to lean on Xanth's statue.

“Oh, but where are my manners... I should introduce myself...” He started, but as soon as he finished saying that he realized he had dug himself into a hole. He had been entranced by the beautiful stranger, and had almost forgotten that he was trying to keep his identity a secret. He couldn't tell her his name, so he had not choice but to introduce himself as,

“You can call me, The Lost,” He said with a smile, hidden underneath the smile on his mask.

[Dazadi]

I'm so sorry for the delay! Busy week + plot = bad Emma, bad!

---

Dazadi's expression twisted from amused to "are you for real?", one eye opened wider than the other and her lips twisting. Not only was the idiot an idiot, but was also an idiot (and yes, that was worth the repetition). Hitting on her? Dazadi Rhea, the ex-Archon, assassin, and Xanth's Sword?

She went right back to being amused.

“'Lost', huh? As in, you are? Or I should tell you to go and get?” Lips twitching at her own jokes, Daz circled him and eyed him up and down like she'd discovered something filthy and barely recognisable in the middle of the street. “I'd definitely say you are, if you're trying to flirt with me.” And because her ego was so easily bruised, despite herself, she continued, “Any idea who I am?”

[Leonard]

OOC: No problem. ^ ^

---

BIC:

The Lost wasn't phased by the woman's harsh demeanor. If anything, it had him more intrigued with her. Maybe it was the challenge, maybe it was the chase, or maybe he was just a gluten for punishment. Then again, it could have been that she was just so beautiful that the abuse was worth it.

His eyes stayed glued to hers, turning just enough to keep her in view, even as she looked him over with a look of disgust. He paid the look little mind. His face was hidden under a mask, and his physique was something he could always take pride in.

He let out a slight chuckle as she taunted his admittedly silly handle. The Lost himself was a big fan of puns, and the way she could turn phrase was admirable. The jokes were at his expense, but he laughed at them anyway. His light hearted and subtle chortles tended to make the smile painted on his mask the focus of attention in most. Of course he had to laugh. If he got offended whenever someone teased him about his name while going around calling himself 'The Lost', then he'd really be taking himself way too seriously.

Although he wasn't offended, he still felt a twinge of pain in his heart. If anything the way she was treating him hinted strongly towards the fact that she wasn't interested in him, but life calls for bold steps. In all honesty, if she hadn't approached him first, he would have never spoken to her. She was a beautiful young woman, as far as he could tell, and yes he wanted to be in love with a beautiful young woman, but the idea of approaching a stranger and asking her out was no small feet for him. He actively tried to be more outgoing, but in the end it's just easier to not try. So often when he'd see a young woman who caught his eye, he wouldn't say a thing.

Still, the fact remains that she decided to speak to him, and she still was speaking to him. That filled him with hope. Foolish hope, perhaps, but hope nonetheless.

“Eh heh, You'll have to forgive my ignorance,” He started with a still a chuckle in his voice. He turned away and wandered a few steps away from the statue.

“I haven't had the pleasure of knowing of you before this meeting. Should I have?” He turned back to face her as he asked the final question. He lazily threw up his hands to each side in a questioning gesture. All the while he kept a lighthearted and carefree demeanor in the face of the daggers she was barking at him. Her question intrigued him as he honestly did not know her. He wondered if she was a politician? A princess? Some kind of celebrity or well renowned hero? Perhaps she was some kind of villain. Truth be told, he did not really keep up with worldly affairs. He barely kept tract of what was happening with in his own sphere of influence as he wandered here and there with little a care in the world.

“As for me... yes, yes, I do call myself Lost after all. It's easier that way, because... Well you see...” He started with out waiting for an answer to his last question. His hands relaxed at his sides as he looked up to the sky with a twinge of longing.

“...To those who go the way, he who has strayed from the path, shall be known as The Lost,” He almost absentmindedly began to recite his mantra while watching the clouds listlessly wander overhead.

He looked back towards the woman again, after only a brief pause.

“To he who has strayed, he has simply forged a new path,” he finished with flair of his right hand.

He hoped she'd introduce herself next, and not be too offended that he did not know of her, but that may have been hoping for too much.

[Dazadi]

“Oh, really? Humph.” The fact that he didn't know her was proof (to Dazadi, at least) that she hadn't been naughty enough lately. While he may not know her as Kuria or Archon, he really should have heard of Xanth's Sword.

But Elysia had forgotten its heroes. They had forgotten Xanth's Aides — and that pissed her off, as evidenced by the snarl on her lips and the way her chin dropped to look at the masked man from beneath her lashes. Her fists curled dangerously, and black shadow boiled around her wings.

But he kept on talking, his gaze cast skyward in oblivion. His flowery recitation just convinced her all the more that he was an actor, but — while Dazadi was literate because she had to be — the only words that had ever interested her had been war stories and battle tactics. If this guy wanted to spout poetry and nonsense, he'd picked the wrong audience.

“Good luck with that.” The shadows melted back into the earth as if they had never been disturbed, her wings flopping at her back as if they were boneless. Her fists were still curled with irritation, but he was only a symptom of a much larger disease and it wasn't Dazadi's job to remind the people she protected of what they'd lost. Purple Hair wanted them low profile, so it was her own fault if it backfired on her. It wasn't like she'd even liked being famous.

But damn, it still pissed her off — and despite everything, she still clued him in, even though it felt awkward and rotten. “Dazadi. Dacre,” she tacked on, referring to her original name. She'd kept Kade's surname, even after he left, but "Dazadi Rhea" wasn't nearly as famous as "Dazadi Dacre, the mad black shadow" — and she so wanted to see the look on his face when he recognised her.

[Leonard]

“Dazadi Dacre...?” Lost repeated after hearing it.

'Dazadi Dacre', the name definitely rang a bell. Even with his little knowledge of the world beyond his little slice of it. Mostly he just worried about where he would get his next meal or what he would do to kill the time until then, but sometimes he couldn't help but overhear someone talking about this or that. Every now and then some of his friends would talk about something like politics, and he would at least have to pretend he was interested.

Of course he wasn't.

“Dazadi Dacre. Could it be...? No, it couldn't...” he thought to himself when he first heard her name. It was a big world after all, and this small time nobody had barely set foot out of his parent's home. It was a bit ludicrous to entertain the possibility that he had just run into one of god's holy crusaders.

“Dazadi, then?” He continued with out much of a pause.

He had never seen her, and only heard of her by word of mouth, but what he pictured she'd look like was a lot different from the woman standing before him. Beyond that, he simply didn't believe he would ever meet her. To him it was as if she belonged to a completely different world than he did, and he was pretty much right. He was just a simple man, with simple needs, who was simply happy (in an odd mask). She was none of those things. She was something else entirely. She was something incredible. Something unbelievable.

So unbelievable, he simply did not believe it and continued to treat her as if she were just a normal beauty that he had been lucky enough to cross paths with.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” He quickly added, as oblivious as ever.

[Dazadi]

Dazadi was forced to “Harrumph!” all over again. Either he'd been living under a rock (possible if he was Therian — but those wings suggested otherwise), or he just didn't believe her. Well, that could be fixed, but she was lazy at the best of times and her ego wasn't worth the effort of putting herself on display for someone who probably wouldn't appreciate it anyway.

“It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Dazadi's lips pursed and she gave yet another “Hmph!” She was clearly displeased, her ego severely bruised, but almost amused by it all. She called Xanth a narcissist, but would be the first to acknowledge her own conceit. And she had been out of the public eye of late.

Changing the topic entirely as she circled around the plinth of Xanth's statue, keeping her eye on the masked man and adjusting her wings, Dazadi enquired, “What's with the mask, anyway?”

[Leonard]

She had introduced herself, and that meant he had made some kind of progress with her, but her overall demeanor did not change. Perhaps she was just bashful, and was too shy to admit how happy she was to be speaking with him. The Lost took a second to study her eyes and their deathly glare. Something told him that she wasn't acting shy. He really had no idea why she was being so grumpy on such a fine day. On the other hand, she had still decided to continue to talk him, and for as long as she would, he would do his best to remain as pleasant as possible.

She asked him about his mask, and it became clear why she was giving him the time of day despite being so put off by him.

“Eh heh, this old thing?” He chuckled lightly to himself when he realized that was what she wanted to know. There were many reasons to wear a mask, and he could have gone on for hours going through the list.

“It just brings the whole outfit together, doesn't it?” He said with a shrug while keeping his gaze fixed on her for a bit. He took a few steps towards her, but did not completely follow her as she began to wander around the statue.

“...Well, the truth is... it's really not all that interesting,” he started after deciding it wouldn't be best to dodge her question. He simply didn't have the courage to teasing her further, with the mood that she was in.

“I'm just a man who treasures his anonymity,” he finally answered. The truth is, he wasn't anyone special, but he planned to be one day. He was sure that he'd be playing in the big leagues eventually, and if he waited till then to start hiding his identity, it'd just be all the more harder to do that.

More than that, the mask was a symbol. It's much more easily recognizable than just another random do-gooder. It will gather fame and infamy faster.

Criminals will fear it, the people will cheer it, and when it all becomes too complicated and a weary Leonard needs a break, it can just take off the mask for a day or so. Of course there are many problems that come with leading a dual life, but those are problems he'll deal with as they come.

[Dazadi]

Well, this was interesting. Insofar as Dazadi got interested in anything, at least.

Her head tilting as her eyebrow quirked, she eyed him from head to toe again, as if seeing him for the first time. “Anonymity, eh?” She could understand that. Part of being an assassin was getting in clean and coming out the same way (that was the hardest part of the job, as far as she was concerned), so she knew there were just some people who were better off not being known.

But didn't he realise? “You're calling more attention to yourself with that thing.” She still sounded grumpy as she said it, but she was actually giving him good advice. Wearing a mask in the middle of the city may hide his face, but it would mean that all eyes were on him while ever he wore it. As an ex-assassin, who still mostly thought like one, Daz could only see that as a problem, and not a solution: How could he hope to do anything nefarious or illegal if he was the centre of attention all the time?

Unless that was what he wanted. She was assuming he wanted to be anonymous so he could do a job, whatever that job might be, but the thought of him wanting the attention sent her right back to the conclusion that he was an actor.

Such a needy bunch.

Lifting a shoulder in a lazy half-shrug, Daz grumbled. “Suit yourself.” She should probably be more concerned about the "nefarious and illegal" things he might be up to, but she was an Aide, not a Guard. She cleaned up messes much larger than the ones she assumed a little fish like him could cause.

[Leonard]

“Eh heh, you may have a point there,” He chuckled again with a shrug.

“But it's not such a bad thing to be famous is it?” He mused.

“With fame... and infamy there comes clout, respect... and even fear. All of those can be useful, if you know how to use it to your advantage,” He explained further. Lost dreams of a day where his presence alone can stop criminals from acting on their impulses, or bring two nations together in peace, but for now those are simply dreams of grandeur.

“The downfall of that is that things can quickly become... complicated. However, by attaching those complications to my mask, I can be rid of them simply by removing it,” He finished his explanation and found himself looking up to the statue of Xanth.

“Really, I'm still getting a feel for it... but, well... you got to start somewhere, right?” He shrugged again as he looked back to Dazadi. Somehow he had told her a lot more about himself and his 'secret' plans than he had ever pictured himself telling anyone. Didn't he just want to have dinner with her (and maybe something else). How did it end up like this?

“Hmm, but enough about me... Tell me about yourself,” He used one of the oldest lines in the book while wearing a straight face. It was a shame it was hidden under his mask.

“You seemed a bit put off that I didn't know of you. You couldn't be...” He felt silly that he was even going to ask if she was THE Dazadi Dacre, and so he stopped half way.

“Why don't you tell me about... one of your works...?” He asked trying to sound as vague as possible. Though probably failing. Anything from painting to combat on the battlefield could be called a form of art. So if she was famous, she'd probably be famous for 'something' that might be considered a 'work' of hers.

[Dazadi]

Dazadi's laughter was first the peal of humour, and then the peal of mania, and she had to drag herself back to the conversation at hand.

Did this guy honestly think that fame equalled respect? Clout, perhaps. Fear, almost certainly. But respect came at its own price, and the one had nothing to do with the other.

But who was she to argue? It was his life, and while another Aide might have seen it in their job description to save people from themselves, she didn't. She actually thought it amusing to watch people self-destruct.

“Tell me about yourself.” Her laughter dying completely, Dazadi eyed him suspiciously. She was still a little clueless when it came to men and their flirtations, but he seemed intent on winning her affections, if only temporarily. Uninterested, she lifted her nose and sniffed, a haughty expression she wasn't even fully conscious of making.

“You seemed a bit put off that I didn't know of you.” He'd noticed that, hmm? “You couldn't be...” Raising an eyebrow as if to encourage that he finish the sentence, she huffed a bit and deflated when he tailed off instead — and then snorted when he asked for "examples" like she was some sort of performing monkey. Nevertheless, she tilted her head and pursed her lips as she considered which of her many missions she could list without compromising the Empire's security.

Reeling off a list of her targets seemed like a bad idea, even for an Aide. But that didn't stop her from doing it. She also mentioned a few of the more famous legends based on the stories of people she had rescued or "dealt with" in her capacity as Xanth's Sword.

[Leonard]

She was laughing. 'That was good right?,' He wondered to himself, but didn't actually believe it.

It took him a moment to process what she was saying next. He continued to think that she couldn't be serious, letting her continue on while waiting for the punchline. Before long it became obvious that she was completely serious. When it dawned on him that she was who he believed she couldn't be, another moment passed in which he simply stood there. His eyes looked out at her from behind his mask, the expression he was making hidden from the world. His body remained still, not betraying his thoughts with body language. He held this poise until she finished regaling him of her various accounts, at which point, he could contain himself no longer.

It was his turn to laugh. At first it was a hearty and full laughter, but he stifled it down to a light chuckle.

“Ah ha... ha. Excuse me, please,” He managed to get out as he tried to contain his laughter. It was terribly rude of him to be laughing her, especially considering who she was, but he simply could not help it. He laughed so hard that he lost hold of his not-so-unflappable posture. He almost fell over, but settled for shaking his head and slapping his knees.

Lost had pictured all of the aides to be these larger than life flawless crusaders of the Goddess. Of course he never knew which of the rumors, myths, and legends to believe, and he knew that the ideal aides he had created in his head were slightly skewed from what the reality was, but he could never have been prepared for this.

Here she was, one of the greatest heroins in the world, Xanth's Sword, and a living legend. Beyond that, an immortal legend, and here she was boasting like some old foggy war time veteran who had a few too many mugs of ale at the pub. More than that, a few seconds she practically looked like she was about to throw a tantrum because he hadn't recognized her. It was too much for him. It was beyond bizarre or outrageous, it was down right unbelievable, and yet here they were.

“Ha heh, ah... I'm sorry. Sorry. How terribly rude of me. It's just that...” He needed a moment to regain his composure. After he had, he continued, “Eh heh, heh... I'd never expect to see THE Xanth's Sword... here, among us boring and mundane folk.”

'Pouting about not being praised, no less,' he thought to himself. He figured that he should keep that last part to himself, as he valued his life.

“Ah... I don't mean to laugh... It's just all so overwhelming is all,” he tried to sound convincing, though he knew he wasn't. He finally managed to stop laughing, but the smile on his face was almost as wide as the one painted on his mask.

“Pft.. So... w-what is someone of your stature doing here?” He asked as he struggled to not break out in laughter again.

[Dazadi]

Dazadi grimaced. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the ruby-studded dagger sheathed at her waist. Her muscles tensed, bringing her to the balls of her feet with her knees bending slightly and her centre of gravity moved forward, her wings ruffling. Her eyes narrowed in a glower.

He was laughing at her.

Despite his interrupted apologies and excuses, every "haha" out of his mouth just raised her ire all the more. Her knuckles turned white as her grip tightened.

“Pft.. So... w-what is someone of your stature doing here?” His words suggested a respect his laughter didn't, but Dazadi didn't put much stock in words. She never had.

She was across the quad in a heartbeat, jamming him up against the statue with her forearm across his upper chest and her blade pressed to his throat. “Shouldn't laugh at people like me, little lamb.” It was more than just a play on his alias, but how she saw him: A lost little lamb, well out of his element and utterly unaware of it. “People like me bite.”

Snapping her teeth together just the once, she backed off and was all the way across the quad in another heartbeat, her dagger re-sheathed as if it had never been out.

[Leonard]

In between the last bits of his stifled chuckles, he saw the woman's stance begin to shift. His eyes narrowed as he was trained to know what that meant. However, his inexperience in actual combat the sheer fact that he was not expecting it, showed itself today. He hesitated to act, and before he knew it, she had him pinned with a blade pressed against his throat.

Even if he had not hesitated, with the speed and power she had displayed, he wasn't sure he could have done anything to stop her. If the stories he had heard were true, he knew he couldn't have stopped her. Then again, if all of the stories he had heard were true, then she was a 12 ft tall amazon from another planet.

As she had him pinned he stared at her blankly, once again. His pride wouldn't let him show any signs of fear, despite the display of speed and power. Honestly, he had never really liked the aides, or the goddess herself. He just couldn't get over the idea that a select group of people were out there, who were simply chosen to be 'better', for lack of a better word, than everyone else. However, power alone does not make one better than another.

She barked at him while bearing her fang. He could tell that this woman was demanding respect, but he wouldn't give it to her. Not if she was going to threaten him for it. Not if she was going to abuse her power and hold it over someone weaker than her. When she was done, she was again across the square before he could respond to her. This time he was ready for anything, but he still couldn't follow her movements. He was now sure that he didn't stand a chance against her in combat. Any lingering doubts of her failings or hopes of his ability were soundly silenced.

“Che,” He sucked his teeth in disgust.

“Surely a glorious champion of the goddess like you're self can handle a laugh or two. Can't you?” he said with shrug after dusting himself off. His words were openly mocking, as was the smile painted on his mask, which he proudly displayed. He had accepted the fact that he could not beat her. However, he would not show her either respect or fear. Her behavior and attitude simply did not deserve the reward of any kind of sick, twisted satisfaction she might find in either.

Besides, if a champion of a goddess was acting prideful, than how could a mere mortal resist against the temptations of the sin of vanity.

[Dazadi]

Dazadi both liked and disliked people who bit back. On the one hand, it was annoying when they stood up for themselves to her own detriment, but she had always condemned her own mother; Dazadi had been just a babe in arms when her family was killed, but she had a very distinct impression of a woman who allowed her husband to walk all over her.

Rebellion had been the name of her own game since she was a child, so she'd much sooner see someone stand up to her than not. But there was a very fine line, and Dazadi was difficult to impress at the best of times.

“Surely a glorious champion of the goddess like you're self can handle a laugh or two.”

Actually, no, and she harrumph'd to prove it. He should honestly know better than to laugh at someone — anyone! — who might prove more powerful than him. Or did he not mind the thought of having his body dumped by the wayside somewhere and eaten up by the wildlife?

Not that she herself had ever let that stop her from mouthing off to her superiors, but Dazadi was from a militaristic society which automatically assigned a certain level of respect (if only feigned) according to rank, regardless of ability. She'd chafed against it when she was younger, but these days she found herself missing that hierarchy.

“You've got a sharp little tongue in your skull, boy. Mind someone doesn't bite it off.” It wouldn't be her, unless he really pissed her off, because despite herself, her job was to keep the peace, after all. If anything, it was a not-so-friendly warning, but she could care less what happened to him. “You should be especially careful how you treat Xanth and her minions while you're standing right in front of her.” Sometimes, Xanth either wasn't paying attention or just didn't mind it, but other times...

[Leonard]

Of course he didn’t want anyone to bite off his tongue, but even less than that he didn’t want to live in fear of those who would abuse their power. Still, she was a person herself. She obviously had her pride, which he had hurt. Lost was beginning to see her for what she was, rather than the ideal he had built up.

“Well, I did already admit that laughing at you was rude, and I’d hate to be considered as such. So I apologize…” The apology was plain, but sincere. However, the infliction in his voice at the end of his sentence, hinted that there was more to come.

Although he was beginning to understand where she was coming from, that didn’t mean he forgave her. Threatening him with her divine wrath because he didn’t bow down and worship her, the idea made him sick. So he had laughed at the way she was acting, it was no reason to hold a blade to his throat. He paused and adjusted his collar which had become disheveled by her assault, before he continued.

“That being said, I don’t plan to grovel at either of your feet, and if you’re going to act that way of course you’re going to gather a few laughs. If you feel that justifies waving around your blade, then you’re going to lose all respect,” He had the audacity to lecture her, a champion of the goddess, but he simply to refused to fear her.

“All you’ll be left with his fear, and that I just won’t give you. So if you’re going to smite me, then be done with it already,” He finished with a shrug. He was ready to welcome his end at her hands. What he wasn’t ready was to live in fear of the Goddess and the heavens above. There is no peace in that kind life, and death was obviously more preferable to that.

[Dazadi]

“Brahahahahahahahahahahahaha!” This time, her laughter really did have more of a hint of madness in it than anything else. “Smite you? Smite you?” Snickering again, she shook her head. “I don't smite people, kid. Leave that to ol' Purple Head. Me, I use a knife.” Her electric-blue eyes sparkled with an unhealthy excitement at the thought of sinking her blade into someone's flesh (though not necessarily his). “Bwahahahaha, I haven't had a good stabbing in an age!”

He was lucky, though. On another day, in another mood, she might have taken him seriously. It was clear what he thought of her, after his spiel. Maybe he was right; maybe he was barking way up the wrong tree. Either way, Daz could care less. She knew better than anyone that was petty and arrogant; she didn't need him to tell her that fear didn't equal respect.

But oh! how she missed the days when her heroism actually meant something. She'd sacrificed more than he would ever know or could ever understand on behalf of a world that had done its level best to forget not only her and the other Aides, but the very woman who'd created them. She'd even offered him a sound piece of advice, albeit in the form of a snappy warning, and where was his gratitude? He'd rather make assumptions about her motives and react to them stubbornly than recognise her for what she truly was.

Which, granted, was all the things he assumed — but she was so much more. “Hmph. Hope you're better behaved around your creator, boy. She ain't as forgiving as me.” True; and a lie. Like her, Xanth could be unpredictable. “Abrío!”*

Waggling the fingers of her right hand in a sarcastic farewell, she spread her wings and teleported away in a poof of black smoke. Normally, she hated the sensation, but she'd do pretty much anything to prove a point.

---

Daz has left the thread.

* Abrío is an Anyeli farewell that I just made up. It's as close to an informal greeting as the Anyeli language gets, so it's kind of sarcastic to begin with, and Dazadi's tone makes it even more of an insult.

[Leonard]

Normally, he didn't mind being laughed at, but her laughter was disgusting. Especially after throwing a hissy fit when she was laughed at. Was she purposely trying to act like someone who could dish it out, but couldn't take it? Or was she trying to be intimidating? Either way, she looked like a fool.

However, it wasn't his place to correct the behavior of a fool. Especially a goddess or whatever she was. He turned his back to her as she began to leave. He heard her her rude farewell, but he just let it go. It didn't help any to lower himself to her level, which was odd considering who she claimed to be.

If she was really who she said she was, then he seriously had to reconsider his faith in the Goddess. Her behavior was so pathetic, he simply could not accept her to be who she said she was. In fact he was certain she was an impostor. The only proof she had was her strength and speed, and some fancy magic, but power alone didn't make a god. Not a real one. He wasn't convinced that what she had displayed today was even on the level of a champion of a Goddess, not that he had any reference.

The myths and legends of her epic deeds had simply built her up so much, that she couldn't possibly live up to it.

Whether she was really who she said she was or not, she was strong. He had to recognize that. If an impostor like that was strong, he was in trouble. If she was really who she said she was, and the champion of a goddess was that corrupt, then the world was in trouble. This was a wake up call for him. He'd have to increase his efforts ten fold if he wanted to do any good in this world.