Within Veiled Boundaries: Shroud Over Their Eyes.

That last bug she squashed left some revolting offensive smell. Week in and out, and she has been good at making sure that there was no corpse or disruption to surrounding areas by the removal of such bugs. But today was just one those days that small omens things kept happening. It was all the cliches she had ever considered in her life, both good and bad omens. The breaking of her shoes laces to a bird poo landing on her. Now, this nasty curtain creature exploded all sorts of gut mess that she spent way too much time collecting and removing.

Gladly, no one considered that the church had rooms to sleep in. Of course, there were for the previous priest and nuns. A nice bathroom and a simple living space. Bonus kitchen, which she proves offers of drinks to those that come here. Not only do humans come here for prayer and reflection but to take a break and get away from stress. She can't help but provide simple offers to keep this peace. She learned how to pray with those who attend. Gladly willing to put heart and effort at respect to whomever god there is and those who worship these gods. This evening has no one around, just another unlucky but maybe lucky thing.

She gladly relaxed under the water surface, going over all the difference fortunes she saw in just this day alone. She was willing to bet that her personal faith in such omens had been a lead for something important. She doesn't really know which direction this bigger picture was taking. She enjoys the water echoing in her ears and the race of her own heartbeat. The warmth of the water, every surface of her soaking in the concoction. She has especially made this bath with very special oils and some drops of similar divine ingredients. Turly in how of cleansing and purification. She slain so much lately that exhaustion was weakening her and she fears curses from the students being a hazard in her potential fights ahead.

"Useless!" The bathroom door thud loud enough for her bath water to jolt. She surfaces instinctively for air and that she grabs her near towel for modest decency. A mad demon of more head horns then space for its brain. It stomped foaming at the mouth, a spiked mace at hand lifting over and soon smashing the floor board. It is clear now that the favorite stalker of long white hair and broken right arm. He had something to do with this pissed off over sized bull. The meat of lean beef cares not for property damages as it smashed more and more. She stands in her bath, livid of not only the invasion of her private time but that something so stupid had dares cross in her domain.

"Be dust!" It snarls as it cornered the undertaker.

"Devour." She commands, tears of her living skin slough off from her. Lean patches of her muscles and open veins sizzle in the air around her. The skin moved of its own accord latching itself over the brut. The mass stumbles in unable to peel away the attack. Every last fiber of it'd hair and clothing was gone without a trace. The skull without even the walnut brain dropped upon the floor and goes back her skin. It sticks and attached, seams that were faded and all that seems lift is an abnormal scar on her stomach. She still mad, red cheek across her face and her embarrassment turning her shoulders bright red too. The undertaker can only sort of plaster himself further into the wallpaper and just sort of praying she wasn't going to do that to him too. With some meditation and gaining back some contorl of herself. She tied the towel around herself neatly and rings out her hair. She steps out and glares at the floor, which began to pull itself back to repaired. She stands upon the sink where the mirror sits, silent in brushing her hair and just softly returning to some normality.

"Are you..." There is a will turly aimed hair pin through the door and narrowly missing whomever was about to just waltz in here.

"I will add your soul into my collection if you dare to enter this room." Her mask contorted a horrible shattered mix of many expressions. It shape was all different beings of many unknown realms. Yet the important detail to take was that those hollow void section for eyes bleed dripping black liquid. This liquid thuds solid upon the living realm floor but evaporated as specks of black glitches. She was now done brushing her hair, bursh down and with a glare over to whatever expressions the undertaker was making. As per normal, he has a mask face and is quiet the open book of fear, bewilderment and relief. She softly ponders her own wonders of how he isn't healthy enough for his normal job. She doesn't even know what he really does. The understanding was that undertakers curve the living realm as it alters back and forth time. He shouldn't stay long period of time here among the living but here he is. Her mask hovers in inspection of these rude people, she debating internally if getting rid of these bugs and uninvited guests was wise. Although, she did a double take of the king. His in borrowed clothing, pretending to be a lower ranking. Madness. He is here too.

"Mr Undertaker, do falling into the bathroom while I am in seem a habit for you?" She crossed arms with not even looking at him, "At least now that you not about to be powdered dust. I can have a better chance about trying to string your right arm more accurately." He blinks at her at not liking the sound of this suggestion nor does he mean for such bathroom antics to keep happening. He stays all locked up and frosted to the floor. He couldn't even speak words in the conflicting thoughts. Any other undertaker would have inhuman certainty would have already stood up and questioned things. He is still trying to get over the whole detaching her human flesh thing and it devoured the demon. The headmaster king wasn't wrong to fear a walking weapon.

As she learnt with last time, even her little shape back then was able to pick a undertaker like him up. She isn't so tiny as back then or clumsy in tie knots. Not wanting to unclothe him, she just lays him in the bath she was now finished with. It still has the oils and divine liquids active. She can tell as it turned clean to dirty with him in it. That was a tell for her. This man isn't a Saint for sure. Holy protection works on those who never committed crimes of a certain level. The level of crime will vary the differ in the densities of divine liquids. The divine energy does one of two things, protect and heal innocent lawful ones and secondly if in conditions of being present to a sinner. The liquid attaches to negative energies that caused these bad law breaks, thus purification of sins that they didn't mean to do. However, if the sinner intended full hearted in the harm they commit and / or break of whatever laws. This purification is harmful punishment or that attempt to use this method of healing was never going to happen. It's not her frist time seeing divine liquids reject healing nor causing harm. But it's this level of many different liquids that aren't working in his favor. But at least they were not harming him either. She gives a raised brow. They both watched the divine liquid react in such way. His gaze made a very slow climb up her in wonder if she understood this wasn't going to help him. She was mad that he looked at her in that way, putting him under the water surface in sort of drowning him. But this is an undertaker. They don't breathe air and can't drown. He thinks over in finding her reaction of her doing that as being fair. He has always respected some privacy for her even if accidental of coming in while she was changing clothes, he leaves the room. That's much better than other angels, demons and undertakers that know she can see them watching her.

"Lady Marionette, forgive us." The headmaster in his demon form and wearing nice attire. He was likely in his demon realm doing demon business. Or that's what she accepts as an excuse to not interfere. When he wears this sort of outfit, she will hold off anything not urgent. They were strictly business partners in formalities.

"Lord Headmaster." Her mask configured to a more easing appearance in order to talk business to such a man, "Having beef demons breaking the floors of this space I claimed to live in... I find as an invasion of privacy. This guy was on your side of the sand barrier and thus was you problem." There that uncomfortable tilt, "I hope it had nothing important about it now. You aren't going to find it's soul in any tome you can access." A lip trembling to a slow snarl, "I have use for recycling every last part of my prey. All there is left is a trophy to mount upon a wall and a hollow soulless husk among the rambles of others in my keep."

The headmaster takes a long while of processing the sheer depth of meaning behind that anger she does neatly at holding back. The undertaker in this bathtub stays all rigid as she softly lowered her right hand in and out. She can see what she was doing, he could only feel uncomfortable as he felt wrong. She indeed removed the attachment of use in his right arm again but it was as if a phantom arm was active. Being a little more delicate and better at this then before - the reattach was syncing to the clay limb arm. She does a much better job at being accurate that the experts back at the undertaker rest realms. She was done fixing his arm and moved to cleaning his lovely white hair. He can't help but slide a uncomfortable raised brow to such action.

"Miss Marionette, I do apologize for intrusion. Turly it wasn't the intent as we actually needed the demon for its access into the deeper hell regions. In sort of needing a gift for the guide to take us there." The headmaster skirts around trying to understand with getting back to task. Her mask changes in process of thinking about why they would care to reach lower hell for anything.

"The underneath of the frost? That place is just junk. The trash that the Styx and summons leaves of they drop them." Mask plays about with its own features. As different jaws hook and unhinged. It replaced entire teeth types in row, eating away different jaws and spitting replacements. It untwisted out of the uncomfortable tilt to a more straight. It scanned vast book shelves of her connections to the tomes while it also was scanning the location of space for abnormal things. It softly held focus back to someone daring to touch the bathroom door, a whip of shadow clothy materials snapped or maybe cuts fingers.

"And now brush." She sits the undertaker up and began detangling his lovely hair. She had even put it into a tight neat plat that suited him. She smirks as he softly uses his hands in sync to clasp and open. She then sort of frowns in how messed up that area his missing his heart is. The undertaker king was right, he literally has his heart torn. He smiles to her in gratitude and got out the tube himself. He stands to the wall near the door looking away from her. A little human cough, she looked down of her lacking. She fixed that up at least. She bright red on her shoulders again and puts on the dress nightie she intended. She flicked in looking through her mask eyes and the stare deep at the guy about to walk in.

"It's not that you need a guide in. It is the navigation of getting out." The mask flicked them at full force into the wall, furthest from the door, "There many one way roads in and few places to cross back out of. Law works this way too. It's a one way soul recycling system. You pass downwards to get out." The mask snarls once more, "We are good working trades here. So I am can get you a gift or a guide. A better price and I would personally take you there and back. Recall that I do not trade in soul names nor do I deal in slaving. It goes against my morals. But crawling in and out of hell." Mask passing that business smirk, "So little king of a small kingdom between the mortal hell gates and the sand dunes of time. What you paying for and how pricey is to pricey?"

"You're a nasty bit of work." He declared, "Are you the cause of recent sale in drug markets?"

"Rude." She echos in both sides. She had even took a moment in how that loud enough through the door. She was at least somewhat decent to be present in a rich person's manor. She bothers putting on her full depth of equipment and pouches. She approached to the door and throws it open. Her mask aligned to her height and face. She steps into it, it now attached into her skin as part of her. She pokes the demon hard with her left hand, "I had cleaned out the 9 dens from your land, I left no a trace and no product to be resold. You hired me to rid of bugs, maggots and I had assumed rats. What the black market wishes isn't my doing. I only steal away things to take them from circulation." She isn't strong using her human hand but it was the show of how differ her treatment to different statuses.

"There isn't a way to fully erase traces. There will always be history and energy residues." The king of undertakers felt to correct her. This was a big mistake to challenge her and the headmaster cuts in with changing things.

"You said that it's head was left." She blinked a lot to fathom this. Her lovely undertaker slips around out but his holding the horns on both hands. Showing off that she did something towards healing him. The dripping water and sagging clothing. Things were guessed. Strange looks to passed on everyone but her. She's not part of this talk among. She doesn't care for it either. She leaves the bathroom door open behind her and walks through these ghost people, in reminder they are just phantoms to her human side. She doesn't wait to sit for either king's. She has found something of more annoying among the tomes she does access. That someone was attempting to open something that she contorls but has no existence of this universe. The more whatever this unknown factor did the more irritated she is.

"Beloved Lady Marionette." Her sweet Ragnar in kitten form jumps close and bowed according to respect. She narrowed upon the cat shape and he shrinks smaller in fearing such expressions from her. The mask enhanced her cold dead existence while she holds this constant sound and warmth like a living human. The blacken liquids poured in more a sort of sludge from her wider voided eye gaps, a sort of ink pudge blob on her lap steams vapors.

"What laws must it take to stop such measures?" She stares the book directions, "That is my cosmic realms... those of burnt out creations flame. The laws have stopped existence there. Whomever is trying to take opening it will be met with realms of broken hollowed husks." She posed her hand in shiver, "There are no husks here in this universe and I mustn't allow." She clasps, "I don't want dementors to deal with. Nasty smelly things."

"Eliza." The headmaster shouted and she jolted at recall of being in the room. She thoughtlessly picked the sludge and jars it, no step missed of sealing it with a curse written in sharpie. The content within the jar altered colour several times and was disappeared before anyone could see the end color.

"Miss Marionette, what made you return to this universe?" The monarch of undertakers is bold to ask such thing. She certainly held a sudden sad expression that carried a burning flame which spread discomfort. She held no will for bring words into existence nor will she dare chance altering fate of what little left there will be. Even if she spoke it, they don't have dictionary definition or grasp concepts.

"Miss Eliza, would you like a hot drink like tea?" She felt that was a very off notion that anyone would bother comfort her with a hot beverage. Then again, she reflected long enough to know her body language had been in its own shivering fears and unfathomable worry. She takes a long deep sigh and case even more larger and painful curses across all the connected collections of her tomes. She does not include any tome that directly relates to her human connections and her time of existence here. She already made up her mind that they weren't able to be saved even if she tries.

"Why did you even come here? What promises or purpose stands in being here? Being a human and whatever this universe has that no other does. You came from the connected sigil corridors of which I had many requests from other kingdoms of other spaces ask in your aide. Especially in concern of souls." The Undertaker Monarch digging quiet a deep well for himself. She can only really simply wait for them to their own assumptions and leave her alone. She has no reason or way of explaining concepts beyond them. She can't help but stare dull of just how wasted this conversation is for them.

"Here..." A lovely Camilla tea with local honey put forcefully into her human hands. She doesn't appear to be directly sipping it. She sits back with millions of thoughts. She make slip glares in direction of the tomes annoying her the most.

"Your wasting time. I meant that in many ways." She holds the cup of taking its warmth closer to her and the stare down at not being able to satisfy any answers to this investigation, "Consider me a living realm factor that only acts if the give local area is under stress of to many energies. Especially not native energies such as those of unwritten determinations." She can't help but brush her eyes. She blinks longer moments in watching her own lashes cloud her vision. She leans of half placement of the cup and couldn't find strength in sitting up again. Cold arm embraced and lifted her, and memories scrambling of how time shuffled backwards and forwards. That little variation happened but the changes in the disconnection made it matter.