It was a strange day for Aven to be meandering around the city, with the sun so bright and cheerful. It was common occurrence for him to spend his days off studying, or better yet, basking in the soft rays of the sun under the shade of the East Forest. It was becoming more common, he'd realized recently, that he was developing some kind of foreign sense for danger: or at least, for impurity. The doubt in people's hearts, their burdens, their insecurities, these had begun to manifest themselves in small, random bursts as Aven went about his days. It was unsettling, to be honest, to be suddenly weighed down by a portion of another's pain, and he'd become a bit... secluded, as of late.
Was he afraid? It wasn't easy to accept, the darkness that lurks within the hearts of mortals, but he could find no way around it. To be intelligent, he presumed, was to be fallible... breakable. Those who had fallen, and those who have yet to fall, retained the same capacity for evil, only differing in their willingness to embrace it. By that standard, Aven knew that even he, himself, was just as corruptible and frail. Worse yet, he knew not if the light in his heart could handle the shadows that lurked below Fairy Tail. If his guildmates... no... if Nessa was in trouble, her life in danger, how far would he go? What evils would he commit in the name of his own subjective justice? He shuddered at the thought, unable to answer, yet equally disturbed by his inability to truthfully convince himself that he would not kill to save her.
While his mind was heavy in thought, the pang of sudden weight struck him, and darkness gripped him for a moment. It was... magic energy, a staggering collection of it, approaching Fairy Tail. His eye flickered over to a group of conspicuous travelers, drawing a sizable amount of attention from the people of Magnolia. He stood slowly, the weight gone without a trace, as he noticed something that sent chills down his spine: a guild mark. Basilisk Fang. He followed after them, the clack of his cane upon the group rhythmic and steady, giving them a wide berth as they entered Fairy Tail.
Upon his own emergence into the hall, Aven was greeted with the sight of a confrontation, the air as tense as a battlefield. There were grudges here, Aven could feel it, though he knew not the circumstances. He'd heard from Rina once that Basilisk Fang and Fairy Tail were not on the best of terms, in any sense of the phrase, but could it really devolve into a full frontal attack? In broad daylight no less! He chastised the thought inwardly, even dark guilds were not so stupid as to declare war in such a manner. However, the most intimidating of the new arrivals began to speak, introducing himself as their Guild Master. He could feel his fist clenching, anger rising unbidden as memories of Grim Heresy rose to the back of his mind, but he quickly suppressed them. This was not Grim Heresy; still, it was a dark guild, and to treat them lightly would be a fool's gambit.
Or... would it? Truth be told, they'd meandered straight into Fairy Tail's territory, but this Ahote was acting as though he were in complete control. His voice, his aura, his expressions, they exuded a constant stream of confidence and a hint of malice, a true testament to his character that any person could perceive. A rush of courage filled Aven's chest, as he became oddly sure of himself, as though his heart was pushing him to speak. The Astral form of the Seraphim, Aviel, smiled with pride as he hovered above Aven, his golden wings beating in rhythm, as he watched his descendant embrace the calling that had been passed down through his blood: the pursuit of goodness.
Aven's cane made a solid noise as it announced every other step toward the gathering, approaching a the table Ahote had placed himself at. He mocked their Guild Hall, Haru's family name, and then, proposed a kind of peace talk. He assumed himself above them, trying to establish verbal control over the situation, asserting his dominance and daring Fairy Tail to match him. Perhaps Aven was weak, and could be destroyed with a flick of the man's finger, but it didn't matter. He would meet that challenge, because his heart burned with a light that would not be cowed by shadows. Aven gave the unique collection of faces his usual, gentle smile, adjusting the lapel of his pearl white suit. "So, the elder serpent has a silver tongue; yet still, he spits acid with every word." With a final tap of his cane, Aven came to a halt a few feet away from Ahote, both his hands resting loosely on the orb on the end of the metal rod. "You say you came to speak, but I hear the preliminaries to an olive branch, as though Fairy Tail could possibly need your assistance." Aven eyes swiveled to meet Ahote's, their emerald depths unbending in the face of his aura. They held resolve in their depths: one developed not by an individual, but by an entire line of unwavering, unbreakable wills. Still, Aven smiled, retaining his composure. "My name is Aven Alveron, a newer member of Fairy Tail. Perhaps I do not know the past, but I do know veiled intent when I hear it," The proverbial ball being driven back into the Basilisk's court, the same way it had been delivered, words. This was the war Fairy Tail faced in the moment: not one of strength, nor one of power. "And though I'd like to believe you have no intention of fighting today, there is indeed a battle of wits afoot: I would sincerely hope you've not come unarmed."