<span style="color: #FF0040">"That... That hasn't happened in centuries. Why is it here?"</span><br/><br/>Mathias heard the question, asked in a voice that for a change was more inquisitive than sardonic, but he didn't offer an answer right away; truth be told, he knew little of<span style="font-style: italic">why</span>, nor did he much care. Vivienne was correct- such a thing, a soul of such magnitude, had not been seen in at least several centuries. The last time they'd seen anything close…<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">No, this is no time to dwell on that,</span>he thought angrily, silently reprimanding himself for his straying thoughts. This was a chance for redemption, a chance to bury the past beneath a new victory that would cause all other considerations to fade into obscurity.<br/><br/>"Why it is here does not matter, Vivienne," he said after several seconds that felt like much longer to him, as the objectionable music continued to blare outward from the stage. "Perhaps I have willed it here. The details are not of great import. What<span style="font-style: italic">does</span>matter is that we take control of the situation before someone else beats us to it."<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF0040">"Like Hell you did,"</span>she snapped, annoyed and clearly not convinced.<span style="color: #FF0040">"And of course we'll need to take control. Don't want it to be like last time,"</span>she added with a sideways glance and another sip of her Manhattan.<br/><br/>That last comment earned her a sharp look. "Don't speak of that."<br/><br/>There were other Demons present; under normal circumstances their presence would not have disturbed him, as Mathias wouldn't have cared either way (so long as the soul went to the One, of course). This was a special case, however. This soul represented incredible leverage, and could tip the balance in any one direction- and he needed to make sure things fell in his favor. He stared at the mortal, his eyes widening slightly with the intent behind his glare. To an outsider who didn't know of his kindness and compassion, he would have appeared to be somewhat insane, he knew, but that was merely the ignorance of the misinformed. Mathias Lazaahn was as kindhearted and mentally sound as they came. Even the voices in his head knew it- when he asserted his sanity to them, they seldom argued.<br/><br/>"We cannot… we cannot wait."<br/><br/>He would show this lost lamb the light- the mortal was one of the ones that needed him, whether he was aware of it or not.<br/><br/>Mathias did not believe he sensed any Angelic presences- they could hide, true, but never for long. Not from him. He idly scratched his snow-white goatee, watching Vivienne thoughtfully as he analyzed the situation. No Angels for the moment, but there were other immortals in their midst. And there was no doubt that they too recognized the significance of what stood before them. Patience, idly standing by, that could cost him everything. He could not let this slip by. He could not.<br/><br/>Mathias rose from the chair, power radiating from his form as he straightened up; an invisible cloud bursted forth from him, encircling the stage as sparks flew from the speakers and the sound of a small explosion put an abrupt end to the band's performance. There was a high pitched squeal, which quickly faded away into nothing as the onlookers began to grow restless, their impatient voices breaking in and drowning out the dismay of the performers who had been enveloped in something of a smoke cloud, courtesy of the fried electronics.<br/><br/>The aura sent forward by Mathias formed a barrier, a shield born of his power, the power of a Prince- anyone watching from a distance would be incapable of seeing or sensing the soul, and any Demons in proximity would be unable to approach for as long as he maintained it (with the obvious exceptions of himself and of those in his employ, of course).<br/><br/>Granted, if someone was<span style="font-style: italic">already</span>watching, they likely knew exactly what had happened, and that a Demon Prince was responsible for it. And if that was the case, time was short. His pale blue eyes flickered over to Vivienne; although he said nothing, she knew what needed to be done. They had their window of opportunity, and they needed to use it before it closed.