Silence was a pleased observer.  He held none of Scarlet's gift of voice and body language that could caress and sweep through the masses like a lover's touch.  Many times he was content to simply watch, and smile, emulating his namesake.<br/><br/>But he was not idle.  He played a flitting shadow to Scarlet's shining, unholy beacon of abyssal power.  Hidden among the masses of her gathered entourage were an occasional few whom dared - whom<em>dared</em>- to have the will to ignore her preaching, her truth of inevitability, of void and death and how all things shall become and end.  Whom might have developed into a linchpin of resistance, of unwillingness, of betrayal in the face of the gift these two Deathknights freely offered.<br/><br/>Silence cut at them, whispering into their minds, delivering unto them a taste of what it would be like to stand before the gaping maw of oblivion.  His voice was sweet, and terrible, a silver-dipped tongue that looped around their will like a noose, and pulled tight, destroying dreams and hopes and forcing them to turn their face to their new hope.  Their savior.<em>Her</em>.<br/><br/>Such was he named,<em>Inquisitor</em>.<br/><br/>Wisdom in Silence came to Scarlet as she indulged in her ecstasy of spiritual and physical absolution.  Next to her near-nude and blood-soaked figure, he was a measure of genteel composure and neatness.<em>"You grow idle in your indulgences and pleasure,"</em>Silence mentally whispered into Scarlet's mind, eschewing anything as vulgar as oral communication.  The tone was light, almost teasing, a gentle lashing of chastisement that matches his grin.<em>"Has the Harbinger's Prophet glutted herself and become lazy with her victories?"</em>