A bit of R + R ((open to Midnight characters))

Dusk settled around the camp outside the tower as a cool breeze began to blow through the many tents and other makeshift buildings. Though most of the Midnight forces were settling down for the evening, getting ready for dinner and a chance to relax with their friends and comrades, Corinthius still stood in one of the training areas by himself, practicing several of the techniques which had been taught to him in the few weeks following his failed assassination attempt of Isaan. He had been given new equipment specially made for him which augmented his abilities in combat, and he was determined to become as accustomed to it as he was to his old gear. Without a practice partner for the time being, he resigned himself to sparring with the air. Though he knew he was welcomed into Midnight and all of the Inquisitors would treat him like any other, despite the circumstances under which he had come to learn of their existence, he still felt distant from them. He wasn't one to make friends easily, and just because he was in the company of beings far beyond his comprehension in terms of power and ability, or perhaps because of this, he was finding it particularly difficult to really talk with anyone.

So he kept to himself most days and practiced in this same sparring ring by himself long into the night. He ate meals by himself and had set up a tent on the very edge of the encampment. He was under no illusions that this wouldn't have gone unnoticed, but he was a man accustomed to a solitary existence, and he was a creature of habit. This wasn't to say that he was upset or felt like he was being left out of anything, it was his own choice that he stayed mostly to himself. He paused for a moment as he breathed deeply, taking in the sounds and smells around him briefly, before continuing with his training regimen. He had a lot of work to do, and little time to do it in if he wished to be a valued member of Midnight and not be a dead weight.

A week had passed since Corinthius had tried and failed - quite thoroughly - to assassinate Midnight's leader. On his way to the tower he'd killed two of Midnight's mortal inquisitors, this had initially created animosity and most had been hoping that Isaan might kill him once the trap was sprung in his office. On the contrary however, Isaan had invited him to join Midnight instead, which the inquisitors strangely accepted as fair - perhaps they felt that he could serve the debt for the two lives by doing two lifetimes worth of work in the place of those lost.

So, despite the manner of his entry into Midnight, Corinthius had been accepted into the order without protest. Of course, it may have been better if somebody told him that, the way he secluded himself like some sort of ninja hermit on the outskirts of camp. Isaan was impressed by his conviction though, ever since his new equipment had been made for him he'd been training non-stop to wield it at a level equal to those around him, he wanted to be of use and the other inquisitors respected that. Tonight was no different, while the others were off on assignments, or sleeping if mortal he was out training alone.

"You work too hard." Isaan's voice came from a small distance behind Corinthius, when he turned around he'd find him wearing the strangest outfit. His shirt was sunset orange, with depictions of palm trees and short sleeves. Speaking of short, he was wearing a pair of white shorts too, and brown velcro sandals just to go with them. On his face were a pair of dark shades, and in his right hand was some kind of orange passion fruit drink with a whole lot of ice and a small umbrella in the top that he sipped from a straw. In his left, was one of his sweet smell cigarettes, giving off the scent of some kind of wild herbs from Underworld.

"Take a page out of my book and take a vacation now and again." He insisted, taking a drag on his cigarette and slowly exhaling the smoke through his nostrils before slurping some of his drink from its straw. "Training against the air doesn't seem like a whole lot of fun."

An instant later a bright flash to Isaan's left heralded the entrance of Jowan, his timing impeccable as always. His appearance was, if possible, even more eccentric than usual, being as he was shirtless (a sight no one had ever wanted to see) and dressed in a pair of (much too small) neon green swimming trunks. He wore a pair of multicoloured woolen socks underneath his sandles, the kind one might recieve as a tacky christmas present. Replacing the silk cloth that normally covered his eyes was a pair of reflective ski goggles.

"Hark! Hear well the cry of the smokey peacock! Let the weariness drip from your limbs like sticky toffee pudding!" He paused, his broad grin faltering slightly as he muttered under his breath "Now don't start -that- again dearest, we only just cleaned it from the last time..." Shaking his head a little he looked up and seemed to stare at Isaan for a long moment. "....Isaambard, why are you wearing trees?"

---

Meanwhile, a ways off in another training area, Sunny was leaning over a small folding table, examining the gun components laid out before her. She'd been intrigued by the various forms of firearms she'd spotted on the Inquisitors and it hadn't taken her long to decide she wanted one. It had taken some doing, but she'd managed to flirt, gamble and persuade her way into acquiring a rather beaten looking Winchester rifle, heavily modified by her previous owner.

The design had been altered to prevent any risk of jamming and bullets were fired at an increased velocity than a standard model, plus it had been altered to hold up to 7 bullets at a time. Something about 7 being a lucky number on the planet it's owner had come from. Added to that of course the bullets it was designed to use were made specifically to harm demons and immortals. She had already stolen a scope from someone who really needed to pay closer attention to their possessions, and had begun practicing long ranged shots. While she needed practice to hone her aim, it was surprisingly natural for her.

She glanced across to the far side of the field she was on, watching Corinthius and the two devils as she reassembled the weapon. She had been particularly impressed to meet Corinthius; she'd never expected to work alongside the Onyx Skull. She knew him only by reputation of course but she had a great deal of proffesional respect for him, though she couldn't help but find his chosen proffesion distateful, even if she had done it herself on occasion.

Liandri bounded through the camp, panting almost heavily, Miso trailed a little behind her, cocking his head inquisitively at Corinthius.

"Why are the two of you dressed so...hideously?"

Liandri screwed her face up as she began to slowly walk towards the three, holding a silver tray that held a large bowl of alcoholic punch, four crystal glasses and a few hand rolled cigars, assumed to be straight from the Underworld themselves, at the request of Isaan. She rushed over to try and find a place to settle the tray between the lot of them, tripping on a loose rock during the journey, she let out a quick squeal, tumbling forwards.

"Not today!"

She pulled herself mid air and landed on her back, in utmost style she caught the tray in her right hand, laying next to Isaan she held the tray up towards him, beaming.

"Isaan-sama, I made the punch you requested!"