Shard sat on a rickety chair with an bar glass in her hands filled with an amber liquid. Despite the fact that it was nearing midnight the city hadnâ€™t quieted in the slightest. She could still hear the voices through the flimsy walls and the tires rolling across dampened streets. Since the start of the war the rain had increased as if the gods understood that there was more blood to wash away to cover such a dirty little secret. Sighing softly to herself, she lifted the glass and tipped it back to consume the contents. The alcohol provided her no nourishment; but the act of consumption mentally eased her pain.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Would it be better if we all died out? Humans would still be unable to find their peace and the wars would continue. The Empress is so blinded by her hatred and anger that she canâ€™t see what is truly at fault. Quissera is no better. Heâ€™d slaughter them all if he had a chance without thinking twice about the consequences. So who should win this war? It even brings into question if this war can be won. The only way for peace, is for a leader to take the throne that holds no bias towards either side and understands the workings of the races.</span>Her expression tightened.<span style="font-style: italic">I cannot do it, so who will? Is there anyone at all or are we destined to fail?</span><br/><br/>Shard ran her hands through her unruly dark tendrils in an attempt to tame them into a somewhat cohesive wave before she grabbed her gray cloak and pulled the hood up over her head to conceal her features. Another meeting of the resistance to listen to Quiâ€™s heated words, incomparable rage, and the next targets that needed to be assassinated. Like usual she was prepared to stay at the back of the room anonymous and watching just how close the apple had rolled to the tree. The thought made her stomach turn as the darkness started to lick at the back of her skull prodding for entrance into her being.<br/><br/>She made her way into the market district slipping down the alleyways and avoiding the military personnel scattered about the streets. The only thing his assassination attempts, or rather , successes, were doing was causing greater fear of the things that go bump in the night rather than making any headway. One cannot rule the world simply by fear alone, or you fall into situations like the one presently faced. She entered the back door to the buildings and occasionally one or two more would slip in as well. She took a breath in as she felt a wave of energy pass over her; ensuring that she was not one of the hunters come to claim a prize. She gripped the fanged necklace in her pocket and scowled beneath the hood of her cloak.<br/><br/>The interior of the building was quite droll. There was almost no decorations save for a few books here and there or whatever other resistance members had brought on them. The walls of the entrance hall were a dull gray and the paint was beginning to peel away. At the end of the hall sat a salt-and-pepper haired man in a long dark jacket. His eyes were focused on the door. As she passed by she bowed her head to him. â€œGood evening, Seni. Donâ€™t let me distract you from your scanning.â€ She reached over with a slender hand and messed up his hair. Neither his expression nor gaze changed save for the slightest quirk of a smile and the interminable utterance that escaped his lips.<br/><br/>Beyond the entrance hallway was a rather open, rectangular room. There were two other corridors leading out of the room to the east, and the west, but none seemed to be lingering down into the side chambers. There were chairs set up in a random fashion. Some sat against the walls other in small groups and a few over towards a makeshift bar where a good supply of drink and other bits of food were held; food for the humans, blood for the vampires, meat for the wolves, and a few other select items for the occasional visitors. Shardâ€™s first stop was of course, the bar. She took what rationed blood she could get and very nonchalantly consumed it as she attempted to sink into the shadows against the wall in hopes that she would remain unnoticed. With the larger crowd than normal that was gathering and her need for discretion, she slipped into the east corridor and headed down the way.<br/><br/>How was this place able to be hidden from detection from the military? This one sanctuary was one of the last remaining. A few of the human mages worked tirelessly to avoid suspicion. There was a bit of pity in her heart for them. Of their many skills they had dedicated their power to preserving the defenses out of necessity. It was noble, and unfortunate. Shard was lost in her thoughts until she came upon a broken statue of the seraph that had not been here before, and a man knelt in prayer. Taken aback by the sight, she froze in her tracks and waited a few moment before addressing the man.<br/><br/>â€œWhat are you doing, sir?â€<br/><br/>â€œI am praying to one of the seraph, my lady,â€ he responded; his blue eyes looking upward which forced her to turn away from the man.<br/><br/>â€œThe seraph arenâ€™t gods, sir.â€<br/><br/>â€œI am aware,â€ he pauses for a moment thinking of the best way to phrase it. â€œPrayer is just another means of communication. You are either asking for help or for a blessing or simply saying thank you. A message is all a prayer is. One can only hope that it reaches Miss Shentavoâ€™s ears.â€<br/><br/>â€œWhy do you pray to someone who abandoned this nation?â€ she asks evenly. She tilts her head just slightly.<br/><br/>â€œPerhaps she did. However, when she was leading the nation, there were no wars like there is now. There was not near as much hatred. There was the chance for peace. Her reasons for leaving are her own. We must now face the present problem of the Empress.â€ He rolls up to his feet and stands a good foot above the cloaked shard. â€œWhether it is she that hears my prayer or not does not matter. What only matters, is if it is answered or not.â€ With that he passes back down the hallway towards the rest of the lot and Shard follows shortly after. There is one last glance to the broken marble statue and the feathered wings at the figures back. At that moment her emotions came to a standstill; and there was only a bitter numbness.<br/><br/>She slowly turned from where she stood; glancing only briefly at the posted laws of the resistance as she passed by. It was a convincing flyer to say the least; and perhaps the only thing in the place that leant any color besides the sanguine lifeblood or various alcohols being given to the holdâ€™s patrons. Swirls of red upon navy paper and the stark white writing stood out as if the letters were only a window for the sunâ€™s rays.<br/><br/>1.<span style="font-weight: bold"> The silence shall not be broken. </span><br/><span style="font-style: italic">The idea of secrecy is highly enforced amongst our kind. Due to the nature of what some of us are capable of; concealment of our abilities prevents the type of mass panic that lead towards the war in the first place. If mundane society cannot pick us out from a crowd, we gain a distinct advantage. </span><br/><br/>2.<span style="font-weight: bold">Take no action that would lead the hold to be violated.</span><br/><span style="font-style: italic">The safety of our hold is paramount to the success of the war. It is the only place within these lands that offers rest and sanctuary at the sacrifice of our will workers. Do not lead our enemies to our front door.</span><br/><br/>3.<span style="font-weight: bold">The collective efforts are above the individual wants.</span><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Above all else we fight for one driving goal. An individuals wants are to be placed at a lower priority to the needs and desires of the Resistance. </span><br/><br/>4.<span style="font-weight: bold">Do not betray the sword that fights beside you</span>.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">Never betray your brothers and sisters in arms. These men, women, and beasts have your back on the field of battle. Take no action that would cause one of their swords to find your heart as we teeter on the brink of victory</span>.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">And how do you suppose these laws will change once the war is over?</span>Shard thought silently to herself.<span style="font-style: italic">If we win, would you rule by fear? And if we lose, are these laws even going to be uttered on the midnight breeze?</span>She sighed softly and continued her way to rejoin the congregation of members.<br/><br/>Upon entering the main room she took a stance against the back wall furthest from the man who had entered at the forefront of attention. His skin was as pale as his hair; and the albinoâ€™s eyes were mismatched in color. The left was a deep crimson red and the right was an ice blue. He was a little over six feet and very well built. It was no hard task to tell that this man was a fighter. A broadsword at his back and reinforced leather armor added to the simplicity of the endeavor as well. He was, in fact, extremely pleasing to the eye and was used to catching the eye of many females and statistically 5% of the men as well. Like every being that walked the earth he had his vices as well; and his arrogance was certainly one of them. At the same time, he looked as though he could back it up.<br/><br/>His eyes passed over Shard without a second glance as the nondescript and shrouded woman always kept to herself, and often, never spoke more than a few words here or there, at least inside the resistance building. She watched those who entered out of the corner of her eye and kept her attention in the general direction of the albino resistance leader. The one quickly gaining infamy in the eyes of the military; Quissera Shentavo.