Free as a Bird [Social/Eight]

Leave it to Kina to create such lavish and ornate structures to decorate their fine regions. Rich with architecture, history, and spiritual significance, yet the dingy-cloaked bafoon wished only to trample these redwood walls for the sake of personal enjoyment.

His dirty shoes scuff the delicate layer of paints while his grubby hands contaminated the rotund tiles. Spirituality desecrated. History abandoned. Neither honor to country nor culture could issue a guilty verdict on his mind.

Upon the dark of night, he had rose above it all— religion, patriotism, honor— every convention in the book— all for nothing more than a nip of the sweet cold winds on high.

On top of this hexagonal tower, Khalik overlooked the city's nighttime glow. A marvelous sight which begged reminders of the simpletons content to squirm and toil in dry soil. They were all mindless drones for casting away their freedom so carelessly to society's whims. Utter fools, Khalik would say.

He would say, but...

"... Hooooow," a perplexing click of his tongue and sharp breath signaled a majorly minor issue which arose in his conscious.."

"How, do I get down."

Nightfall overshadowed the skies, keeping a certain stillness about the atmosphere. Through the obscurity, Eight returned from a successful meeting with the Toh clan, having had earned their loyalty, despite not fully pledging his help to them. Eight clearly maintained his true allegiance to the Kogata clan, feeling as an actual clansmen from the clans ideals. Now having the people in his employ to work around the Kogatan alliance, strengthening his own stranglehold on the situation without help from Jynx, Dalia, Altan nor Julius.

This was one of the few moments he had any spare time for himself, the slender slaver with a porcelain exterior that shed years off his actual age. Raven tendrils briskly whipping against his cheeks as he cruised over shingles on his soaring tapestry, it was at this time where he saw a silhouette on a tower. A cat would die now, because Eight would need to sate his curiosity by approaching the enigmatic figure. From the underside of his carpet, he would stir awake some of the swarm, directing them towards the figure. They would flutter over, each flap of their wings would let sparks shoot off; flying sparklers coming closer to the stranger, illuminating himself and his target. "I'm Eight." The slaver would gesture the numeral, with four fingers on each hand. "Care for a ride?" Eight was very intrigued by the capabilities of this unknown variable.