"...Must be the same excitement that was coursing through you veins when Rue tossed the Lion onto Jeanne's lap yesterday," Dante whispered, smirking. He cast a wary eye on the nearly-invisible Lion and the old man. They weren't to be trusted. But then again, no one was.

Jeanne looked at Fee's piling dirt on top of the body, her head tilting slightly to the side in confusion.

"...Fee, that's not how you bury a body," she said, trying not to make her words sound offensive. She went for the trowel only to find that her friend had already taken it, and so used her feet to clear a reasonably sized area. 'I wish we could take the body to a proper graveyard,' she thought, tracing a large rectangle in the dirt.

"I don't suppose you take too well to you're family intrusions. At least that's one trait we share." Michael paused, thinking back on what just happened. His parents were pretty old, but because they didn't die by natural means, his step-siblings would be out for vengeance, and while working together, they could easily have taken out most of the hoard back at Corinth, and probably only be defeated by the Rephaim or the Emim hoard by sheer force and number... "I'm so glad they hardly ever work together..."
"Anyways, our heading. Where to, miss, and while you're in a better mood, I was wondering what you would have me call you."

"Err..." Feenai realized she didn't exactly know what she was doing, and handed the trowel to Jeanne guiltily. I was hoping this would distract me but it's not really helping one bit.

Jeanne smiled. "It's okay." She took the trowel and began to deepen the lines created with her boot.

Like Fee, she had little idea what she was doing, but Jeanne was confident that she could figure it out.

While tempted to simply wither the body to dust with his magicks and stop this senseless waste of time, Shealtiel elects to remain seated in the APC, finding the prospect of desecrating the poor theurge's sensibilities about the world yet again not worth the effort at the moment. He admits to slight curiosity at how Na'lsa views the improvised ceremony, but not enough to climb to his feet and go investigate. Closing his eyes, his retreats within his mind to pass the time until they are ready to leave.

Dante took the top of the APC at a short run, scrabbling a bit over the metal surface. He'd leave the ladies to their burying the Saint. None of his business.

Then he waited for them to come back. He didn't like this place very much, and would rather leave the gruesome memories of yesterday behind.

Feenai helped Jeanne dig a shallow grave, put the gruesome remains of the Saint into it, then cover the body with dirt and a couple stones to mark the spot. She really wanted to do more for Jeanne's sake but she could sense the impatience of the others and gently coerced Jeanne back into the APC. She didn't look like she was ready to drive just yet so Feenai took the driver's seat and set the large vehicle in motion, headed for their destination.

Lev sat next to the doddering old man, staring at the far wall as if it were to be his next meal. He turned his head suddenly, back towards the burial site. Something familiar was there. Something...he knew.

"The whore spawn. She follows us. Like a hyena follows a lion, scavenging off our work. The one who cast me off."

He growled, anger slowly building up inside him. It had nothing to do with anyone finding him 'useless'. It was not about pride, nor his dignity. But now that she had cut ties with him, she was in much danger as the Saints were.

"Old Man. You have knowledge I cannot gain from simply devouring you. I have many questions and we have a long journey."

He turned to him as he spoke, eyes alight with the lust for knowledge. So long as it was that instead of hunger, the group had nothing to fear...for now.

"I see, Rue," Michael said, starting the engine. Considering that she only gave the first part of her name, Michael considered it a start. In time he would get what he needed and leave, anyhow, but a gut feeling told him that Rue would become an important person on the world stage, either a great friend of fiend to his motives.
"Getting friendly seems to be more possible now. I should probably drop the block but still..."
Distrust filled his mind and kept him from mental conversation as he drove off, following the APC at a distance.

"Oh, indeed? You mean to tell me that the secrets of the Father haven't blossomed within your soul? You need the help of a mortal? A humble messiah, I see." Flashing open his eyes, Shealtiel affixes the entity with a dismal stare.

"I really don't advise trying to consume me, by the way. Even in the even to of my unfortunate demise. Sheol's is an unpredictable power, and it simply wouldn't do for the Savior to have a possessed gullet, would it? Think of all the havoc I could wreak, no longer fettered by the mores of mortal civility. Why, I should think even a God might find my lingering presence distasteful after a while... though, who knows, maybe Abaddon has other plans for my spirit. Having never met the man, I cannot say. I hear he is given to whims, though..."

Seeing his stream of verbiage crash against Na'lsa's seemingly godlike patience to no effect, Shealtiel sighs in defeat and says, "Very well. Ask your questions. Preferably not the question; I don't know whom the Grail serves, and I frankly don't care."

Jeanne would have liked to spend more time burying the Saint, but she did understand the need to move on, as much as she disliked it. So instead, thankful for the break from driving, she sat beside Fee and studied the Wrath Sword sitting across her lap. Lying on the ground had given the a dusty coating, and again the theurge untied her bandanna to wipe it off. As she replaced it on her arm, her finger traced an etched swirl along the flat of the blade and down to the guard where it became a decorative carving.

In the background, she could hear the old man and Na'lsa talking. Though she wasn't specifically trying to eavesdrop, she couldn't help but be curious about the man's questions.

Na'lsa watched the old man with reserve, letting his joke fall flat.

"I don't care for tableware. Even if blessed by thy Father, in the end it is merely a cup that foolish mortals seek."

He cleared his throat, going on to his more important business.

"I am a Child of the Lord. But that is just it: a Child. Even being the Messiah, I am not omnipotent yet. Even the other one of Nazareth asked our Father why he had forsaken him. There are things I know and things I do not. But you are experienced! You know of this world! To reclaim Heaven for our children, we must gather power. And these Saints...these Saints harbor power wasted. They sit by idly, squabbling against the lower souls of hell when together I could use their power to throw back the gates and usher in a new era. This first one has left me coursing with power. I need to know where I can find the rest, or what other men of power I might find at these "Churches". And armed with this knowledge, I shall devour them."

"You'd do well to seek the church-fathers, then. Each was, allegedly, granted a gift from the Father. Perhaps all seven together could open the way to what you seek. Of course, that's naught but speculation on my part. Still, you could do worse, and the environ is said to be relatively safe. There's bound to be another Saint or two, as well."

The demon raised his vessel's head, looking around the interior of the APC. Through one of the small slits, he can see the sea roiling up. For the first time, he feels an emotion he does not know how to describe. He's apprehensive about crossing. Anxious. For a brief moment he contemplates what would happen if the angry ocean were to upset their small transport. How it would flip them, toss them about. How it might have the capability to suddenly rise up and plunge them to the bottom of the sea. For a brief moment, Na'lsa experienced what could only be described as...fear.

He cleared his throat, getting the attention of those awake so he could address them.

"Let's wait for the sea to calm before we cross. I cannot throw open the gates from below the sea."

He paused for a moment as he received their blank stares. It took him a moment to understand why.

"BTR-3UI. This vehicle. Is Amphibious. My vessel knows this vehicle well. Has spent ample time with one. His memory might be very useful."

Feenai stared at Lev. No...it's Na'lsa now. "Do we have a sail, or extra fuel on board? I sincerely doubt we have enough fuel to last us the entire way over the sea. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to have an alternate plan before we go making ourselves into a not so fancy sailboat."

Dante heard the question floating out the window, and hanging upside down, leaned over the top of the APC and looked in, slightly annoyed that the metal was good enough to block some aura. Then, "Augh. I think I'm gonna fry up here." He turned away and swung into the interior of the vehicle, misjudging and nearly hitting his head on the top of the window.

"My bike has fuel. Doubt that's gonna last you for half and hour in this thing, though."

Shealtiel raises an eyebrow, though his eyes remain closed, his head still bowed. "I could attempt to summon and bind an Emim," he drawls. "With all that psychic power, it's bound to have some means of getting us across in one piece."

Waiting out the half heartbeat of incredulous looks that are no doubt turned upon him, he sighs, and adds, "I do not advise attempting that. They have a tendency to resent being dragged away from whatever it is they're doing -- not the best way to befriend one." Another numb pause, a feigned cough. "Humor."

"Still, we only seem to have two choices. Either attempt a crossing, putting our... faith in Na'lsa's knowledge of this vehicle's capabilities and capacities, or... attempt the Pass, which is doubtless the haunt of some manner of pathetic brigands, equally doubtlessly eying our magnificent transport with a rapacious gleam in their rodent-like eyes. And then, of course," he adds as though it is an afterthought, "there would be the Infernal Sea to cross -- a much more dangerous voyage, one imagines, unless weather is particularly bad in the Aegean at this time of year."

About a mile behind the APC, at the coast of the Aegean Sea, Michael stopped the car. The Pass of Thermopylae could be seen from where he waited with Rue, parked.
"My contact that can get us across the Aegean Sea is about forty miles north of here. He'll be able to ferry us to the churches. It's said that the pass is cursed, so I normally would never go this way. However, with our nice little "comrades" ahead of us, they could clear the way for us, making this trip a lot faster. Which one of the churches did you want to investigate, by the way. I don't believe you specified before."
He drank from the canteen that he had refilled the night before. For a trip like this one, he was glad that he had the purification filter, otherwise, he would have already died.

"Regardless, we should be careful." Michael looked at Rue, curiously, noting her confidence.
Driving and keeping an eye out for the monsters that could have been lurking about had taken most of his attention, so he hadn't had the time to contemplate the information he had been given from Rue's mental conversation with his love-struck brother. "What a sick bastard, speaking of him. Anyways, moving back to the priests, he obviously meant the guardians of the seven churches, since they were headed that way...perhaps then..."
"And who is Constantine, anyhow?" he accidentally spoke aloud. His eyes and he shook his head out, as though trying to shake off his weariness.

The fact that she looked green, when she repeated the name- "Irrelevant, right now", and then she mentioned..."Them?...oh..."
Michael sighed in annoyance, "I don't, and hopefully never will, plan on meeting with anyone from Babylon. In the case that we do, however, I plan on locking their psychic abilities down, if they're weak, or killing them, if they're not." He retracted his block as he started the car, again, leaving his memories of Babylon for her to see if she choose.
Pictures of screaming men and women and children in dark chambers having their very being turned inside-out and being made slaves of all sorts. Guilt was intermixed with the overlapping message as his thoughts rang out and he drove forward, slowly because of his weariness. "Babylon disgusts me, and so does the bitch who claims so much infallibility as she slaughters the minds of anyone who doesn't follow her prophecies. I was her pawn once, indebted to her with my life as I gutted and ripped out their memories. I was told not to look, too, but that only pressed my curiosity leaving me tortured by their lives..." Tears began to water through his eyes as they turned blood-shot. "their love..." He shook his head again. "I carried it in and bid my time until I could escape...and then," he said, re-blocking his memories behind a final thought. "I did."
"And that's all there is to it, Rue," he said, wiping away his tears on his sleeve.

Shealtiel perks up suddenly, leaning forward where he sits. He addresses them all.

"Do you sense that? Living souls nearby -- no, not the two following us, in the pass. We're being watched. I don't detect any spirits of particular potency, but there could be a psychic hiding up there... my MID seems to have broken. Can you feel anything from this distance, Feenai? Or perhaps, you, your eminence, with your divine far-sight, could enlighten us?"

"Hm?" Dante stuck his head out the window to get a better view, and received a mouthful of dust. He spat and pawed the stuff out before muttering, "...oh, yeah, there's something."

He forced a laugh, reached over, and poked Lev sharply in the ribs. "Oy, you-with-the-grandness. Get you ass over here."

Feenai threw her newly developed senses forward. There were two people and they probably were not psychics as she could hear their thoughts quite easily. Grimacing from reading the thoughts, even if it was becoming necessary for survival, she told the others what she had heard. "There are two, but they are scouts for a larger raider horde of maybe a dozen people. Neither of the scouts are psychics but that doesn't mean any raiders outside my range won't be. They appear to want to capture us for supplies and..." Feenai's voice twisted at her next words, "fun and games."

"Fun and games?"

Lev's mouth twisted in what was surely meant to be a grin. After a moment he erupted in to laughter, crazed and drunk on mere delusions of what fun and games he could have with their twisted flesh.

"We will have entertainment, indeed. But first, let us send them a message."

With that he undid his long jacket, letting it fall to the ground. He readied the ancient and battered Mosin-Nagant that Lev had once picked out, loading a single bullet in to it with care. With a single hand he ripped the tattered shirt from his body, wrapping it around his face. He turned to the rest of the party, addressing them with a gun and open arm.

"They shall make a donation. A gift of flesh. Every person, no matter how plain, has a special gift that can be given. My vessel! This man, this...Lev. Has bestowed upon me his gift of marksmanship, of skill with a rifle. I shall now bestow the fruits of his gift upon those who do not give gifts willingly!"

With that, Na'lsa leaned out the window Dante had previously used. He steadied his rifle against the frame of the APC, trying to compensate for the bumping and jarring. The shot was far. The conditions problematic. But Lev had made a shot not unlike this one once before. If only he could see better...

Na'lsa grinned, remembering a bird of prey he had ingested some time ago. The flesh was old, but he remembered it. He squinted an eye, aiming down the sight. The eye seemed to move, to bulge almost as the inner muscle and tissue moved. His vision almost faded entirely for a moment, before refocusing. He could see clearly. He could see the great distance between he and the heathens. Grinning, he squeezed the trigger. A single shot rang out, and Na'lsa let slip a single bullet at a raider scout over a mile away.

Dante leaned back a bit, allowing the Lion the room and at the same time stifling the urge to simply shove the man out the window.

That's....unexpected. The Lion's laughter was...contagious. The forced laugh that had just escaped from Dante's lips moments again transformed itself into a wide grin as he felt around and opened a second window and peered out, unconsciously withdrawing a black-flighted arrow from his quiver for later use.

Something caught his eye. Red... He swore with his mind racing in the opposite direction. But the Artificer was driving... Dante calmed his nerves by taking in a few deep breath. He'd settle certain things later.

Feenai sucked in her breath sharply as she felt the man die. Soon after, more and more people entered her field, though they were all dwarfed by the presence of the man walking out of the pass towards them. She attempted to sense his thoughts as she slowed the APC to a halt.

Oh? Dante's smile was wiped off his face quickly as it had appeared. Something was...off. He narrowed his eyes and stuck his head in front of Lev's, glaring at the newcomer, not entirely willing to swing his legs out. The many auras he had sensed don't give off a friendly vibe, and he fingered the arrow in the bow anxiously, but keeping it out of the frame of the window.

Despite the apparent danger, Feenai was becoming fascinated with this man. He wasn't particularly handsome, and his thoughts were complete gibberish. However, Feenai had never heard of anyone like him, and pushed open the APC door to step out. She was fully aware of the danger that she was presenting herself to, and had one chronostatic grenade, as well as her laser, both handy as she stepped out of the vehicle.

"My friends and I wish to pass through here. We know you've been waiting here to try to relieve us of some possessions, as well as some other things," at this, Feenai stared sourly at the scout who had not been shot. "I would rather not hurt any more of you, but I can't say the same for my friends if you all decide to fight."

Feenai could not tell if he was bluffing or not. His mind was a mess and completely unreadable, unlike his friends. "As long as I don't feel threatened, I won't consider it." She hooked the grenade onto the laser's strap and slung it over her shoulder, as she waited for everyone else to come out. His voice...there's something wrong with it. I want to block him out, but despite his promise, I can't just block out everyone else too...

The car nearly swerved off of the edge as Michael hit the breaks. "What the-" His exclamation couldn't have been heard over the sliding dirt. The car stopped just short of leaning off. He turned to Rue with a pissed off expression. "Are you out of your fucking mind!?" Her stare towards the road ahead cuased him to turn his head to where she was looking.
Up ahead a man seemed to be in front of APC that they were following, talking to Feenai. An almost familiar tinge touched the mental block that he kept up, once again. Ignoring it, he watched the events from afar.