[OOC: This thread takes place in the palace's library, as per discussion with Dalanesca.]

While my second stay in Revaliir held a great deal more freedom than the first, there were still certain actions I was forbidden from committing whilst still within its realm. At the top of this rather short list was the act of interfering with the squabbles of Revaliir's conclave. When Dalanesca and Angela declared open war against each other, for instance, I was expressly told not to take sides. I understood the reasoning behind this decision, and so I did not question the order. Outsiders should limit their interference in matters that do not concern them, after all, lest they spark an interuniversal conflict.
 
However, when Angela called up so much power just to contain Dalanesca within her own temple, my curiosity could no longer be contained. I hadn't paid much attention to the war before that point, especially since I held no fondness for either party involved. Yet now I was curious about the reasoning behind all this bluster, and, like always, I wanted to hear the truth from the horse's mouth. Only the Reaper could reveal the motivation driving her bloodlust, so I had to visit her if my curiosity was ever to be sated.
 
To that end, I sought an entrance into Porta Inferi: one far removed from the prying eyes of mortals and immortals alike. Eventually, I found one, but only through an obscure use of a magical art nigh forgotten: bibliomancy.
 
Within the halls of Revaliir's version of Hell, I was able to locate an ancient grimoire as old as Onnen itself. No person had been able to read this book for some time, its written language lost to the void long ago. Yet I knew it well. This was the Nota Mortum: an ancient text filled with death curses that had been used to assassinate many kings and nobles of old. Once wielded by the lich Macktil, it now rested in Dalanesca's library: unused and dusty for a nondescript amount of time.
 
Knowledge of this book was enough for me to teleport to it according to the rules of bibliomancy, but not enough to instantaneously do so. The tome needed to be open for a teleport to go through, so I had to knock politely and hope someone opened it. The Nota Mortum made sounds like a wooden door deep within Dalanesca's library, and it even moved with every knock I made. In the end, and as luck would have it, I had no need of someone to be on the other side because the book eventually fell from the shelf onto its spine after the tenth knock. The pages fluttered open naturally after that point, and immediately flashed with magic.
 
In that instant, I appeared in the dust filled labyrinth, surrounded by purple light and the etchings of nightshade. I quickly replaced the Nota Mortum back on its shelf once the gate was closed, and then took down my hood to expose my face. I was acutely aware of the fact that Dalanesca likely already knew I was there, and so I wasted no time with my introduction once I made my black overcoat presentable.
 
"So the moment the triune is brought into balance for this world is also the moment that a great war begins," I said while scanning the books on the nearest shelf and awaiting my host. "Revaliir and, by extension, you, Dalanesca, certainly know how to keep things interesting for us Outsiders, though I'm sure your reasons for doing so are more personal than simply entertainment. I am curious why you've suddenly decided to give Angela a well deserved boot up the ass, but am also thankful and silently cheering for your success regardless of your motivations."

Dalanesca could sense the presence of another the moment that Natsumi had stepped through the portal in the tome and entered her realm.  At first, she could not put a finger on who the person was, only that it was an oddly familiar aura.  It was someone who she had not necessarily spent any time with, but one who at one time had share a certain commonality with her.  After a moment’s hesitation, Dalanesca realized that the being had once been divine in Revaliir.  There were a few options as to who the visitor would be, but when she pinpointed the visitor’s location to the library, she had only one thought in mind.  It had to be Natsumi - as far as Dalanesca knew, she was the only divine that was capable of bibliomancy.  There was no way that anyone, let alone another deity, would be able to make it into  her palace without Dalanesca knowing of their presence beforehand.  

She made it to the room in which Nastumi had appeared, standing behind the former goddess in a very non-threatening manner.  She could hear her speaking, unsure if she knew that she was addressing her in person or not, though it made no difference.  “I’m still curious as to what Angela Rose did to you that you are so keen to see her take a beating,” she said softly as she walked towards Natsumi, circling around as the reach her front.  

“None of what I’m doing is for any sort of entertainment in the slightest,” she continued, entertaining her words.  “If you haven’t already heard as to why, I shan’t bore you with the details.  I will, however, explain that I have suffered a great loss and will in no way ever be the same, no matter how long I am given to recover - and Angela is partly at fault for that.”  Of course, the goddess was still rather dead set that Angela was to blame for the loss of her child, but she simply did not care to go into much detail at present time.  “I am glad to hear that you are ‘cheering for my success,’ as you put it,” she continued.  “But I do not know why you are so keen to see the world burn.  The old and the sick are not dying.  They merely suffer.  Doesn’t that sicken you of me?” she asked, her eyes flashing crimson momentarily.  “Or are you simply enjoying it for your entertainment?” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against an empty shelf,  watching Natsumi rather carefully.  She had nothing to fear from her, but just found her rather curious.

Dalanesca's encroachment on my personal space was far from unexpected in the twilight of her realm. It was her home, after all, and I the intruder. Yet one thing that became abundantly clear in those initial moments was that the "Reaper" exemplified the stereotypical nature of most deities. She had her wolfish circling and prodding questions just like any other divine. In fact, it was downright typical to the point that I was rather disappointed. I had hoped someone so intent on making the world suffer would be a little more theatrical; but she was just a brooding woman with the eye color trick I had seen one too many times.
 
Still, Dalanesca posed some very prudent questions with her arrival. If I were being purely honest in that moment, I would have answered her by saying I simply didn't like the kind of person that Angela was. She was arrogant, self-absorbed and a fame seeker: three attributes that did not go well together for a deity. The world saw her as the compassionate Triune member. Having been in the realm of Secrets, however, I never shared their impression. I saw how manipulative Angela was: how she commonly used passive aggression to achieve her goals.
 
The Reaper was no prize herself, but at least she hadn't openly tried to manipulate people I might have called friends in a previous life. That made her one step above the competition, despite how much I despised the synthetic deities of other worlds. At any rate, the lady in black had asked several questions, and I had been silent long enough.
 
"Keen? Not quite," I said when I finally took my eyes off the bookshelf and placed them squarely on my host. Dalanesca had only just finished asking about my "desire" to watch the world burn, assuming I operated on such a simple code.  I decided to enlighten her, but while being careful not to reveal the treatise my people made with her overseer. "I cannot participate in this conflict for reasons beyond my control, and I hold no love or hate for either side. But, if I had to pick a winner in the fight between you and Angela alone, I would choose you because you don't play at being something you're not. Angela has the whole world thinking she's the good member of the triune, but I've seen her manipulate others just as well as any demon using guilt and threats to get what she wants. She's not inherently good, and she doesn't have the moral high ground to behave as arrogantly as she currently does: especially not when one of her victims was a close acquaintance of mine at one time." Pausing, I removed another book from Dalanesca's shelf. It was an alchemy book: a rare tome titled Morito. It was also in rather peak condition, so I had a chance to appreciate how well Dalanesca's realm took care of such antiquities before continuing my explanation."Angela hasn't really had substantial consequences for her actions back then; and she still treats her power like a teenager with a fancy toy despite being one of the elder divine. Even now, her body is weakening because she took more power than she's physically capable of handling just to temporarily lock you away." Placing the alchemy book back on its shelf, I moved my hand to my chin and made an expression like I was pondering something before finishing my longwinded response."As for sickened by your presence? No, I'm not. Someone like me doesn't have the luxury of putting moral and emotional stock into anything and everything I come across. I am indifferent to this world as an outsider, and am without solid attachments. Therefore, I don't see why I should bother making a judgment on this war beyond deciding which side I dislike least. Anything more is just… inefficient. I only said it was entertainment because it's different than the norm: not because I personally enjoy watching others suffer."
 
I would have offered a hand for Dalanesca to shake at that moment, but thought it wise to let her offer a handshake first if she wanted it. While I was overall unimpressed with her and not in danger of irrecoverable harm, I was also keenly aware of how long it would take to reassemble a body if my current one were destroyed by the goddess. That was more work than I would like at the time, so I attempted to be as polite as possible without compromising my ideals. Still, I did have the common courtesy to greet her, at the very least.
 
"Hello, by the way, Dalanesca. I am the Nameless One, if you hadn't figured it out already."
 

Dalanesca sensed something, perhaps disappointment, cross Natsumi’s visage.  She was unsure what would bring such a reaction on, but found that she did not entirely care.  When Natsumi turned to look at her, explaining that her assumption was not entirely correct, she cocked an eyebrow.  After the brief dialogue that the former goddess offered her, she spoke in turn.  “I am sorry to hear that you are not able to jump into battle, as it were,” she said, the hint of curiosity as to why she was unable to participate audible in her voice.  She found it mildly surprising that she referred to Angela as manipulative - she did not realize that there were those in the world that had a negative view of the Goddess that Dalanesca had essentially declared war on.  After the explanation that was offered to her, it made a bit more sense.  

She watched as the former deity that stood in her library found another book, and she could see the appreciate that crossed her face.  Dalanesca had never particularly been fond of books in her mortal life, but her time with Marth had caused her to grow rather fond of them.  The library was one of the quieter, less visited places in the realm - the majority of time that she spent there was alone, immersed in the books that filled the shelves.  

“You’re an interesting one, you know that?” she said, the rhetoric not masked by sarcasm in any way.  She relaxed a bit, and leaned against one of the shelved near Natsumi, her demeanor lightening slightly.  She now seemed to understand that Natsumi  was visiting the realm out of curiosity more than anything else, and most definitely did not harbor any ill will towards Dalanesca on behalf of Angela Rose.  

“I suppose I was a bit rude, upon my entrance,” she admitted, and extended a hand to Natsumi.  “It’s a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance,” she said, though the words were not masked with formality.  “I don’t think that we ever shared Conclave together, during your brief reign,” she said, and the regrets were audible in her voice.  “But I am glad to meet you now.  I apologize for my terseness.  I have had a rather… stressful time, as of late,” she said, and nearly laughed at the understatement that her words made.  “Is there anything that I can do for you while you are here?” she asked, still a bit confused as to what she was hoping to gain by visiting Porta Inferi.
 

Curiosity is a dangerous thing, but not always for the reasons people expect. We're all well aware of the saying, "curiosity killed the cat." This is because curious cats often get mixed up in traps or twists of fate they can't escape from. However, there's also the case of the inquisitive subordinate who asked one too many questions. He found out more than he bargained for, and his superiors, who became curious of his motives, had him executed as a spy.
 
That story is lesser known, because it's more of a cautionary tale for spies than anything else. As a shadowy operative, my entire job description is to be curious. I am often infiltrating enemy territory to find information, after all, so curiosity was my calling card. Yet the most crucial thing about this job of mine is to remember that too many questions from me can begin to merit questions from others.
 
Dalanesca had prodded me to try and get a more concrete explanation on why I couldn't join her war. She wanted knowledge for free: a gluttonous craving that is dangerous to hold. I did not give in to her implied curiosity, however, and merely ignored the words until another comment arrived. She called me "interesting," this reaper, to which I did respond.
 
"You're not the first to tell me that; but I've come to accept that age does one of two things: kill you or make you stranger. I've lived a very long time, longer than the entire Triune combined, and the methodology that has arisen from that lifetime often seems strange to others." I stopped messing with books at this point, but did not lean against the shelves like my host. Instead, I squatted, hovering perfectly in the air as if sitting on an invisible chair. My legs suspended me in that place, but only for a moment.
 
When Dalanesca finally offered a hand, I stood up to give a dainty shake. She lamented her terse demeanor as well as the fact that we had not met before, but I paid the former no heed. Having been accustomed to cold-hearted people, I was hardly surprised by Dalanesca. Still, I did bother to comment on her wish to have met me earlier.
 
"If you had met me then," I said during our handshake, "you would barely recognize me now." Returning to my 'seat,' I continued. "Perhaps that's for the best, though, since long winded explanations are not really my favorite thing to give. I can only imagine how inquisitive Moliira will be the next time we meet since she's the only one who had actually visited my temple before I gave up my divinity. As for what you can do in the meantime, might I suggest a tour? You certainly have the opportunity, given the current strength of the chains, and I'm curious about your sense of taste."

There was a whisper of a grin in my expression at that moment, but only just. Part of me was looking forward to Angela getting her overdue punishment, and, no matter how old I got, I couldn't completely control my emotions on that front. The tree would never really let Angela die; at least not yet. But she most certainly could feel pain, and it was only a matter of time before she did.