Grimoire had failed at her task but she was a determined bitch and Dirge could not see her giving up so easily. Even still, he remained within Diveen and continued with keeping an eye on threats to its inhabitants - as was his duty. The unfortunate thing was that it was entirely too boring. He liked his solitude in the far off corner of the ravine pack but he also liked his work and there was little of it to be found here. Orifel’s proposition was interesting enough but he had yet to hear from him again as far as when and where to find this enemy of Diveen. He must find the angel and get his answers soon or else he may succumb to something much more primal.

Dirge had yet to meet with Grimoire post-battle to see how she had fared, other than a painful loss, but his intentions were on doing just that today. Quietly, he moved around the outside of the plateaus along the river until he slipped by the northern entrance to the pack and into the open fields. The sun had set long ago and a chilled wind rustled the tall, dry grasses as thick clouds rolled in from the far off sea. Soft, distance sounds of thunder rumbled in the distance and quieted the night bugs. It was the perfect scene; something that his mother would have loved.

He does not rush to get to the grotto in search for the battered she-demon but walks at a pace that indicates his contentment in the moment. The grasses glide across his deep black coat as he passes through, his gold and green eyes turning to the shimmering surface of the lake not too far ahead. Diveen’s river is fine but he knows the taste of the lake is more palatable in a different way, something about the minerals in the earth below it. He decides to take a short detour from the caverns and heads toward the water for a midnight drink in peace.