Interesting results yielded by the strange, now confirmed to be undead before him. "I'll consider it," he admitted, wanting to bring the flower back to Xia to see if it effects the Earthen species as she claimed. Now, Salem was partially happier, knowing he was in similar company. "I know of a few living things that deserve to bear witness to this."

Watching her open a door which he already knew to be magic imbued in some way or form due to his crimson eye, he stopped short of the doorway, waiting to see what would happen. He didn't flinch when some kind of living plant was produced from inside by the undead girl. "They don't seem to have a soul," Salem replied, looking at the plant with a single bright red eye, searching for something to judge. "Or I'm simply not equipped yet to find the souls of plantlife. I would like both that one and the Black Phoenix Rose. If you have the time, I can show you where they'll be staying."

Salem nodded, respecting the piece of magical equipment that was to power this clockwork form as well as her apparent shyness, knowing full well how something gathers and stores magic for use in the body. Determining that she was absolutely no threat of any kind, if anything similar to himself in the fact that he had little social skills, Salem gave a polite stage bow. "Yes," he started off, walking a little closer to see their handiwork; it looks like he came to the correct place. "Something that edges on life and death, love and hate, perfect for a requiem of powerful muse." Music of course was his forte, death his specialty, and so if he could find a flower that mimic those feelings, he was sure it would be a perfect fit for the graveyard he build elsewhere.

"My name is Salem, and I won't be here long."

The skies grew pitch black as the lone reaper slowly strut along the battered path of dirt and stone, the moon being the only celestial body present that night. Tonight was a fateful encounter for him, and it was one he was waiting countless lifetimes for. All of the holding back, all of his pain, every second he spent in the afterlife of Purgatory would finally pay off; tonight, he would at last put an end to the dark Seer who started it all: Dolores Esmeree, su mamá.

Dressed in his absolute finest pitch black coat, slacks neatly pressed and cuffs delicately made, one would mistake him to be visiting an elegant event when it was quite the contrary.

Oh mi dulce niño…

Salem gritted his teeth as the forign words began to ring in his head. It was a trademark sign that she was near, as she did this to every last one of her Nobles, as well as her natural born children. Instinctively, the somber reaper began to build up his power to a level he hasn’t dared touch in ages. In truth, it was his normal level of magical power, only held back by his years of dampening and limiting it. The earth beneath his feet cracked with each passing second as slowly, but surely, his dark eye began to turn crimson red, piercing straight through the night.

He spoke no words as he stopped his strode, standing in place and waiting for the inevitable, and sure enough it did come. Walking through the dark of night, approaching him from the front was a tall figure who’s odd eyes akin to his blitzed the night bog. Salem, feeling his anger rise, quickly reached into his blazer and pulled out both a long pistol, designed with gold and undead silver, as well as a long sword, forged by his own hand during his skint in the undead realms. Holding it in his hands now, with full intent to slaughter with it, he couldn’t help but think back to the past, to the girl he met in the Afterlife… a ghost by the name of Mary, and with her, his promise to never resort to violence. Frowning, he kissed the hilt of the blade before returning the point to the ground.

Dolores was now in plain sight, both of her cursed eyes beaming with power. She was, similar to himself, dressed elegantly, in a dress so long it touched far below the ground. The color of it was bright red with mixed black and golden highlights. His mother’s hair was let down, showing it’s true length far past her backside. Like mother like son. A rare sight, but one he didn’t care about. Looking at her hands, he saw again, similar to him, a long pistol armed on one hand, but in the other, what he presumed to be a bunch of bullet shells. His eyes narrowed as he adjusted his grip on his blade.

“Salem! My oh my how you have grown…” Dolores said with enthusiasm dipped in every word. She cooed as she smiled warningly, Salem raising his firearm up in response.

“I’m not here to talk, Mother,” Salem replied, coldly. He aimed the barrel of his gun at the head of his parent, and before she could say another word, he pulled the trigger. The sound of brass clinging against steel silver rang through the air as he watched with a reddened eye the bullet leave the barrel and spiral towards his mother. Dolores smiled as she too watched death approach her, seemingly more than happy to embrace it.

The bullet reached as far as three mere millimeters away from the center of her lobe before she suddenly vanished, and the bullet along with it. A shocked Salem quickly raised his blade up in defense, scanning the area for the missing Seer. “Where are you, you kniving bitch?” Salem asked in a low voice, but he would get no verbal answer as the wind around him began to shift. Turning around, he was too slow to realize the ever-present gleam of gold as he rose high in the air. Completely unable to move even an inch of his being, he was brought to a stop high above the trees. Salem, even in silence, still did his best to funnel his hate towards his situation through his eyes, staring the now widely smiling Dolores down with bloodlust.
As he stared, he saw deep into his parent’s soul, and as he expected, only pitch black essence stared back. Not a hint of grey nor a sliver of white; this woman was an embodiment of dread and sorrow.

“You are very correct my dear boy.” Dolores responded, blushing as Salem’s eyes widened. “Oh come now, why so surprised, hmm? Por favor no me digas… you forget I can read minds dear? Truly, pathetic.” Gritting his teeth, he closed his liquor eye and began to channel his energy in only his crimson one. Patiently, Dolores waited on the ground, extremely curious as to what her son would do next. Blood began to seep down the airborne reaper’s cheek as he overexerted himself, his entire body beginning to glow with the same red hue. The bone in his mouth clinked together as he forcefully broke through the invisible hold on him and let out a blood curdling scream. The ground-bound seer’s confidence quickly faltered as she felt a foregin energy in the area. Her face now one of anger, she raised her pistol up towards the enraged reaper and fired several times. Salem, blade in hand, easily dispatched every single bullet before beginning his quick descent back to the ground.

Again, he felt the air shift. Looking behind him, the bullets his dear mother fired were beginning to stop themselves and follow him; telekinetic shells. He knew that if even one of them pierced his skin, the others would find their way into his fleshy prison as well. Grunting, he tightened his fist as he fell and raised it towards his chest. In that instant, the ground again cracked with fireceness only equal to an earthquake by Mother Nature herself…
“SCABRITHE!” Salem shouted with all his might, the ground now radiating a ghastly purple and red color. Dolores licked her lips.

“I have heard stories about this one, but to think you tamed it…!” Soon after her words and his, a rotting gigantic hang erupted from the crust, reaching out to catch the reaper from his death free fall. Without batting an eyelash, Dolores threw down her weapons and extended her arms towards the giant hole in the earth, her hands and fingers spread out. Quickly and softly, Dolores began to speak in a language that wasn’t Spanish nor English, and as she did, the rupture from the dead began to close. Watching from the air, Salem cursed under his breath as he recognized the words the Mother Esmeree was muttering. “Erit clausa” were the only two words he needed to understand.

Gripping his long sword cruelly in hand, he flung it towards Dolores with great speed and might, it in turn barely missing the acutely focused Dolores, again. Salem’s face was now one of concern mixed with horror. How was she so narrowly avoiding his attacks? Obviously, there was something that he didn’t know or account for, and it might be his downfall. The reaper plummeted to the ground as the seer forcefully closed the fissure in space with her nigh-unrivaled mental prowess, completely severing the giant’s hand in the process. Landing with a bone breaking thud, Salem screamed out in pain. It was a miracle he was still alive after a fall from such a height, but the worst of things was yet to come.

With blurry vision, he from the ground lie helpless as the severed gigantic hand began to fall on top of him. He felt a decaying, burning sensation on his body as a loud thud could be heard. Salem gasped for air, his ribs breaking, piercing through his own body. Sound left his ears as his vision began to blacken. Underneath the mass of flesh, tears swelled in his crushed eye, and blood out the other. He didn’t want things to end like this; it was barely a fight. He had to avenge himself, and everyone else his mother hurt, he couldn’t die like this… but there was nothing he could do about it.

Groggy moans escaped his lips as he desperately tried calling for help. In both broken voice and thought, he called for the only ones he could. He cried for the undead… who were too withered to aid him. He pleaded for Mikaela, who would most likely look down on him doing so, but nevertheless he attempted, and was met with fruitless efforts. As a last effort, he even tried to plead for the immortal wolf girl to aid him, or at the very least free him from his pain. No longer being able to produce sound from his mouth, he lay under the weight of the giant’s hand until it began to fade away, back into the realm from where it came.

His neck cracked as he slowly repositioned his head in the newly formed crater he was now in, coming eye to eye with an approaching Dolores. The woman effortlessly jumped down into the crater, landing softly as she did so, but not before hovering above him; a pointless display of cruel authority.
She landed in her heels with daint movement and crouched down beside her broken and bloodied son, a warm smile smooth on her face.

“It is time for your next lesson, dear,” Dolores explained to Salem. While he couldn’t hear it physically, Dolores ensured he could hear every one of her words mentally. His eye widened with grief as it echoed in his head, the words spoken right before she betrayed he and his father the first time all those years ago. Dolores reached out, placing a cold hand on his cheek as she drew herself closer. He closed his eye. “Salem, dear, look at mother.” Dolores softly demanded. He had little choice as he felt his eyelids being forced open. The seer raised an eyebrow, and at that, pain was felt as instantly, his eyelids were ripped from his face. “Better… is that not all better? Now I know my sweet little boy is paying attention to his mama.”

Leaning over to his forehead, Dolores gave Salem a small kiss before returning to her feet. With a single hand and some telekinesis, she raised Salem up off the ground, what remained of him falling off his form as he looked at the dark woman. The Esmeree lady widely extended both arms, Salem slowly drifting towards her embrace as she did so. He was given a warm, affectionate hug as he bled out, his streaks of red staining the attire of Dolores. In his head, he had an epiphany; that’s why she wore such vibrant colors, so the blood wouldn’t taint her fit.

Dolores kept her arms locked around her son in embrace for several minutes, leaving Salem in a state of pain and anxiety, before whispering in his head one final time.
“Remember that I love you, your father loved you, and we. Always. Will.”
What tears he had left fell from his face. Moments later, he felt the tendons in his body rip apart as Dolores used her strength to rip him into two. Both parts of him then lay on either side of the bloody woman, gore as far as the eye can see.

Salem was only conscious for mere moments, too far gone to be affected by his mother’s vile telepathy. For just a few moments, his thoughts were his own, and his own only.

‘Xia… it appears my song reached it’s conclusion far before yours.’

~ ~ ~

Salem opened his eyes, quickly sitting up in a cold sweat, streams of blue and red running down his cheek from his eyes. He wiped them away as he looked around himself. He was in the Purgatory District, near the graveyard he just recently built. His shirt was off and he was laying down on his blazer to rest for the night. He felt himself extremely weak... and extremely cold. The lone reaper sighed as he subconsciously rubbed his torso.  "It was all a dream, huh..." Salem groggily stated to himself, yawning.

Looking towards the sky at the full moon, he began to lie back down on the cold ground, using his blazer to wrap around his bare form for warmth. As his eyes closed, he could hear the ever so faint laughter of his mother in the distance, leaving him perplexed on the status of his "dream", and semi-terrified of the things the lie in the night. 
Further away, hidden in the cover of the trees under the moon, a hooded onlooker with sharp odd eyes smiled as they disappeared back into the flora.

"Sweet dreams, Salem."

"I truly do," Salem replied in a dry voice, void of emotion. Unmoving in his stance, he continued. "Dear Ms. Mikaela, I'm no worse than you are when it comes to standing by spoken words. If you consider this play trouble..." Salem stopped abruptly, sneaking in a small chuckle during his pause, "then at best you are as dull as the dead." The reaper gestured with a nod towards some of the tombstones around them, his gaze never leaving the living person in front of him. "The dead aren't disturbed, I assure you. I am a reaper after all... they sway to the tune of my song and mine alone, unrested or not." Smiling, he did a quick mental check. He was all good to go, just in case.

And now, he was laughing. Yes, he truly was enjoying himself tonight. It was a nice change of pace from his usual loner life, and he didn't mind it not one bit. It could have been worse. He could be dead right now, or, a slave to his mother, but he isn't. He's here, in a confusing entanglement of dark symphony replacing muse.
"You say those words as if you could crush me any time you want... bold, but accurate," Salem replied with a shrug. "But alas you see right through me. A composer without control over the performance's tempo is a poor one. The same goes for everything else. Ready?" With that question, Salem, with his hands still in his pockets, shifted to the right and aimed a low left kick at Mikaela Lye , the force of the strike if successfully hit powerful, yet not enough to seriously injure, only sting. He tested the waters already, and was confident in how to approach this delicate situation now, so he thought. 

"I stand by my word, no stake swapping," he assured Mikaela, stretching out his arm until he heard a pop before putting a hand back in his pocket, his stance as careless as his attitude towards fighting. His eyes were still narrow and his vision rather clouded, but he could still make out the visuals in front of him clear enough.

To continue his moonlight performance, he began to again close the gap between them... by walking. If there's anything his father taught him when it came to hunting and combat, it was that you should never move slower than your opponent in pursuit unless you had a plan. And he did not, he liked improvising after all. It's what made every song unique, but there was something else on his mind besides this questionably dangerous routine he'd found himself in: how would he entice her to ask this oh so destructive question? 

"That is a good question, but I don't think I have to test anything, Ms. Mikaela," Salem said, quickening his pace. "While your soul entertains the grey lies that flow out of you, the statement that you can end me with just one question is just that: a lie." Satisfied, he stopped just a few feet from where she stood, waiting for an answer. Shrugging, he placed his remaining hand into his pocket and lightly yawned, eyes still remaining on his adversary. "I mean no offense. It's just a fact."

While he waited, he looked around with quick glances. Salem was very aware that this person could easily take away from him the unique ability all things have: the ability to live; he had to ensure that his limited vision wouldn't hinder him, he had to retain close quarters "combat". Of course if push came to shove, he had other abilities at his disposal. Was he going to use them, was the question, and the answer was absolutely not. Not even if it saved his life. "Are you ready to continue the play, or will you stay there, silent like a rest?" Salem asked, with very minor concern in his voice.

[Mikaela Lye]

Salem listened carefully to each of Xia's words, his mind racing with potential ideas, as well as cover song ideas. He was no stranger to discreet deals, or secrecy in general, and knew how to conduct himself in front of others that may have desired to listen in, but as Xia matched his gaze, and she told him about the soon to be murder, he smiled. 

"So that's why you called me here. I'm sure whoever is attempting to backstab you has a dark soul, so of course I will help you shorten their life span." Salem didn't mind death, he of course was dead, but it was more than that to him. To the reaper, each death should have meaning, and the innocent shouldn't die. He has no doubts in his cold heart that whoever was attempting to remove Xia was the opposite of innocent, taking into consideration her work environment, no matter how polite it seemed on the outside.
After all, he did promise to aid her in cases such as this. Salem only hoped his attire wasn't going to get ruined in any sort of way...

Xia was right about one thing: him simply escorting her to an exit would indeed be quite a boring song, lest one that didn't make sense at all. Why would someone go to a party where they knew they might die, only to call him to escort them out? Simply never going in the first place was the best course of action. 

Salem sighed, and brushed a hair out of his eye. "Death is not against a reaper's conscience, Miss Xia," he replied kindly, still maintaining eye contact, "Surprisingly, I haven't made any kind of music today, minus that of the newly acquired soul I have..." He paused, thinking back to the unruly giant he slew, before beginning to approach Xia. It would be like a hunting trip. After all, human beings were animals as well, and this particular animal decided to waste their life and try something foolish. He only hoped whoever this mystery killer was would have a change of heart much sooner rather than later. 

Of course if they didn't, Salem would be getting a free soul to do as he pleases with, and the best part about it was that he didn't even need to exert himself any!
"Now, about this trap of yours. What's your plan? A quick, unknown cause of death to the populous? Or do you mean to make an example out of this person?" Upon asking his last question, his smile turned to a disapproving scowl. He still didn't know who this assassin was, so his thoughts were conflicted. If it was a certain child, or even any human, his confliction would turn to approval.

Xia Feng

As Xia went in for a hug, Salem immediately took a step back, only to accept the inevitable. It wasn't everyday he was shown this level of... whatever this was, and it completely derailed his train of thought. She missed him? For some reason, he believed there to be more to that than it appeared, but refrained from questioning it. With one arm, he hugged her back, with some hesitance. "Your music lured me in like a fish to a hook. I nearly left, this place is rather crowded." Salem said, plainly.

His previous suspicions would prove correct as she loomed closer, telling him words in a hushed tone. He could barely pick them up himself, but understood what she said by reading her lips. Nodding ever so slightly, he smiled, realizing the ruse, and mentally hitting himself for not understanding sooner. It was a meeting after all, and with snake subordinates, all must be done in staccato like gestures. "After you," the reaper said, placing his instrument back into the pocket of his attire in a quick slight of hand, and followed Xia as she drew away. As he followed the sapphire manipulator with quick, long strides, he found that none would even accidentally bump into him; he kept his grim and threatening demeanor as he walked in an attempt to drive off any would be conversation starters or pickpockets. He's been picked before... it did not work out well for the thief.

Finally, the arrived in a fairly empty and open courtyard. Salem sighed in relief. "At last, away from all those troublesome souls," he exclaimed happily, only for his smile to fade as he tasted ash on his tongue. Raising a brow at Xia, he pushed away his suspicions. Surely whatever it was that happened, happened for a reason, and there was no cause to be on alert, especially with his fellow artisan was seemingly relaxing freely and comfortably. Despite this, he remained standing where he was, hands in pockets. Salem remembered their first encounter, and knew better than to underestimate her, even in a situation such as this.

"I always dress for the occasion," Salem replied, "Have you seen me in anything else?" Closing one eye (left eye), he yawned as he adjusted his stance. He expected a lengthy conversation, and welcomed it. "Are we here to speak about the intentions of tonight? As I said, I don't think you called me for a duet, no matter how welcome that is." 

Xia Feng