[i]"Lana..."[/i] [b]She mumbled quietly, a hint of her pale, almost dark grey lips showing through the cloth. Her skin was like a luminous snow, so bright and yet so frail... Like color could not touch her.[/b] [b]Then with more confidence, she raised her voice, a smile creeping into her tone.[/b] [i]"Princess Lana."[/i] [b]Was she really royalty? No. Far from it... But she liked the title, and it seemed all so fitting for her tastes.[/b]

"Very well then, Princess Lana. To pass the time while we wait for my entry, could you tell me a story perhaps? I always loved to hear the stories of others." Lucien gave the small girl a smile. Even if she wasn't exactly human, she reminded her of a girl he made friends with at the Tribal camp. He often visited her and carved her toys made from the wood found in Bio-Domes. He wondered if she was still even alive. If he returned home, would he have to put her down to? A shudder closed the thought as the man focused on the more lighter aspects of his memory.

[b]She gave a the man a inquisitive look. Not many asked for her tale, and she wasn't usually inclined to tell it. But he had been gracious enough to tell his. She owed him at least the bare bones of her past.[/b] [i]"Well... My story starts a long time ago. I come from a land of rain. It's beautiful there. Storms... Thunder... I do love the rain."[/i] [b]She pauses a moment, her eyes closing as she remembers the emerald lightning that formed intricate spiderwebs in the sky and the roar of the clouds following such a tear in the atmosphere.[/b] [i]"There was a building there. That was my home. It was the border between all things sane and insane. It was a brutal home. It claimed to be an orphanage... But all who were raised there knew otherwise..."[/i] [b]She couldn't give details... Never any details... He need not know.[/b] [i]"It was a cold and dark place, that smelled of rotting wood and fungal disease. There harm came to all the children. But it was also there we learned of our gifts. Unfortunately, we were used and then tossed away... And most did not survive. I and one other survived the ordeal by the gifts put inside us. Ours were the strongest... The best wills..."[/i] [b]Her light and cheery tone turned quiet and stale, her memory aching from the horrors her old home once wrought.[/b] [i]"I still hold my gift, but it sleeps and festers... It only saved my soul, my mind and body were rescued by another... His name was Damien... He was the one who wanted to bring down the establishment... And so he did. I've been free since... Using what I learned there to do more prosperous things."[/i] [b]It was a little bland, and unfulfilled, but she didn't want to explain tragedies and hardships. Unfortunately, her past didn't hold many happy moments, and those that were joyous were bland and empty...[/b]

"Ah, do not worry yourself with anything else, Lana," he says hearing her trail off in certain ways: methods that would imply pain at the mere thought of such memories. He could relate to that. "Special powers? Experimentation? My word, that sure does sound like something the Abbatial would do." Lucien clenched his first in silent anger. He had no respect for the zealots from his home who believed in infecting children and using them as breeding subjects for abominations. Lana's story reminded him of that. "This Damien... Did he ever tell you why he destroyed the building?" he asks to distract himself from the thoughts of the Abbatial. The idea of such an 'orphanage' existing was a subject of abhorrence, but a man who could bring down such a place may be of aid in finding Alister.

[i]"It's a longer story that Mister Damien is far better at telling... But he's a hero!"[/i] [b]Well, in her mind Damien was a hero... Though, given her personality, and the fact that she didn't seem quite so stable... There was the likelihood there was plenty more to the story... Plenty more.[/b] [i]"He's around here if you ever want to meet him. He sleeps a lot, though... And he doesn't like to be bothered..."[/i] [b]She giggled to herself at the statement, knowing full well that Damien was amusing when cranky.[/b]

"What does this Damien of yours look like, dearie?" Although the girl was clearly demonstrated to not be a child, she still seemed like one in Lucien's eyes and would treat her as such. Innocence was so scarce these days, and the man cherished it whenever he could. He didn't want to push her to tell her story further either. She respected his boundaries - so too did he respect hers. Lucien cracked a small smile, "And why shouldn't I disturb him as he sleeps?"

[i]"He's tall... And super thin... And he has mad scientist hair. And cat eyes. And a metal jaw. And he always wears fur coats!"[/i] [b]So... Damien was an odd one...[/b] [i]"But he also has black armor with a white triangle on the front with a glass helmet. He's hard to miss."[/i] [b]She finished, clasping her hands as if very pleased with her simple explanation. But, she also seemed fond of this man. Not quite romantically, not quite friendly. Perhaps more like a daughter to her father.[/b] [i]"And he's just grumpy when disturbed. Though, he doesn't bite much... Much."[/i] [b]She giggled mischievously and pointed towards the far desert past Dojoville, where sand dunes rolled and only bristly plants dared grow.[/b] [i]"He had a camp out there."[/i]

[i]A skilled warrior with a metal jaw. Sounds quite distinct.[/i] "I ought to pay him a visit then. Lana, can you tell me one more thing about this Damien of yours? Is he skilled with a blade? I believe I have grown a tad bit rusty, so to speak." Truth be told, Lucien was anything but rusty. But man still believed that he was and thought that a constant routine of combat sharpened his senses. It was not a feat of strength to him, just his modest standards. Besides, what better way to acquaint oneself with another than by combat?

[b]Lana giggled once more, as if such an answer was obvious.[/b] [i]"Some could say that... But he likes to use his knives. His swords are special..."[/i] [b]She nodded to herself knowing full well the weight Damien put on his 'babies'. He... Collected weapons...[/b] [i]"I'd be carefully though, Mister. Damien gets really angry... And he gets... Bad, when he's really angry."[/i] [b]Lana didn't really second guess others, but in a real fight, Damien fought with the intention to kill. Sparring... He played soft. If anything Damien would think it a game. If anything, the young woman seemed worried for her friend.[/b] [b]She shrugged with a bland and hopeless movement. She didn't like conflict herself... And Damien's inherent anger lately had put her on edge... She hoped this Alister could perhaps cheer him up.[/b] [i]"If you do seek him out, can you not be mean to him, Mister? I'm sure he'd like to meet you... But don't call him names... I think he might be sick."[/i]

"I don't plan on getting him angry, Lana. And sick? Shouldn't there be a doctor somewhere here? After all, this place does sound like an arena. I would expect an abundance of medics or doctors to be in such a location." Lucien took note of every word Lana said regarding Damien, contrary to his response about his well-being. By default he immediately began linking the man's 'special swords' to unique weapons he had faced in the past: Youtou, experimental Iconoclast weaponry and Infected ritual weapons. All which evoked a sense of grim nostalgia for him. Damien seemed like quite the interesting man indeed. "I suppose I'll be heading over to the desert if I have enough spare time, Lana. I first need entry into this place -" he says as he points to the massive gates "- in order to find Alister."

[i]"I don't mean like a cold Mister... I think he's upset... It's nothing new I suppose."[/i] [b]She gave Lucien a long stare before looking at the large gates.[/b] [i]"Well... Good luck... I must be going! I have to feed Alphonse!"[/i] [b]With a small wave and a large grin, revealing perfectly pale white skin and almost blue lips, she began a slow skip down the stairs, eventually unfolding like paper until she drifted away into dozens of paper butterflies, as if made up of a swarm.[/b]