Cacophony

Instruction

Woven silk bore a very keen resemblance to what his turmoil opted to be. Greeted by the medium, who in turn had kept her hair down thankfully as contrast to what she'd called a 'lotus blossom' their last encounter.

He holds the bag of bones a distance from himself and towards her, considering the stench they were recent. Christening hadn't the chance to have begun and Chrome sniffs them before humming in approval.

"Come in."

She grips the sack rather well considering her pinky was nothing but a stub. They were placed on the vast table littered with candles burnt nearly to stubs, black matches from whence had been used, the bones of small animals and what looked as to be locally grown herbs and assorted garden produce.

Some had gone bad by the smell of it, Kyoya wrinkles his nose in disgust.

Chrome seems to pay no mind as she occupies herself with the dish on the counter, the one she has begun to salt, adding a pinch of chopped parsley. It smelled odd, Kyoya was having a hard time identifying the slices of meat on her plate.

He might regret travelling all the way to Böhmen, especially in such tedious forms of transportation. If not for the rumors of a worthy adversary. He craved an equal battle, it was a desire that never curbed itself and grew stronger each passing moment he spent in this small village tucked at the bottom of the mountain.

The plate clatters to the table, Chrome sits down before it. She gestures to the seat across from herself, inviting him to sit at the cluttered table as well.

He sat upon the invitation, although he might have anyhow.

Watching with almost disgust as she picks up a chunk of meat and rips into it, as if she hasn't eaten in many days. That could be true considering how thin she is. A few smacking sounds and tearing later, she wipes her face with a napkin to prevent the juices from dripping onto her dress.

With a scrape the plate slides forwards, towards him. He merely stares at it.

"Please have some, sir. While I fetch my book."

Chrome is gone, down the narrow hall without waiting for a response.

Curious Kyoya is. Holding a piece between his thumb and index finger, he tears off a bite sized piece and chews it.

It tastes of burnt pork. It's quite tender too. It lacks the ability to be appetizing. He frowns, pushing the plate farthest from himself and wiping his fingers on the cloth he keeps in his coat pocket, for sanitary reasons such as these.

Enter Chrome, large, worn book in one hand.

His eyes narrow at the unkempt book. Is it full of curses or perhaps blessings?

She places it on the table, flipping through the thick pages. His eyes catch red. Are the pages.... bloodstained? No matter, blood won't shake him. If anything it was curiosity that took the reigns. How many died over the book?

One bright, violet eye scans the pages her finger has stopped upon. It lights up.

"Here we are, the rules of the contract."

He bristles. "I will not be forming a contract with the witch."

Chrome halts, perturbed, confusion settling on her face. "Why ever not? You want to fight Mukuro-sama, do you not?"

Mukuro? The name tastes bitter and he wonders why so. He never met anyone with such a name, anyone worth remembering that was.

"Yes, I desire to fight. Is that not an action that forms no bonds?"

She glances at him, apprehensive. "If you lose, you either must form a contract to prolong the inevitable or surrender your life. Meaning, Mukuro-sama is a witch who has the ability to take souls upon certain terms."

Kyoya snorts. "Then I simply won't lose."

She shakes her head as if an exasperated mother, he resists the urge to smack her.

"There is a caravan that departs at dawn, travelers who must pass through the mountain in order to cross to the next town over. They could take you a certain distance. Travel among the tallest pines until you reach a blood marked path, the rest is easy to discern. Bring the heart of a lamb."

She stands, closing the book with a snap. Kyoya stands, nodding at the instructions.

"Good luck, on your quest that is." Those are more than likely words signaling the end of the visit and he is grateful to leave. The herbivore is unsightly in an unnerving sort of way, that is, if he were capable of losing nerve.

"Hn."