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[Open] The Forsaken World

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Vaz stepped back in alarm when Jorath flinched towards them, not expecting the jarring movement in their direction. Briefly they lectured themself on the stupidity of the approach, realising that grabbing him by the arm while he was clearly in distress was not the best way to get his attention. Jorath, they had concluded for some time now, did not handle surprises to his keenly-tuned senses very well. The scribe eyed him carefully as they awaited Argia’s response to their question, chewing at the inside of their cheek as they noticed the lines of silver starting to creep along his skin again. 

 

“A name forgotten, a name replaced...”

 

Whispered Vaz when Argia expressed that she hadn’t shared the name with anyone else, their focus growing distant as a recollection of what they had heard while semi-conscious stirred at the back of their mind. At first Xaal wasn’t certain if Vaz was fully aware of the words that were tumbling out of them, until a tremor ran through them and they shivered their focus back towards the conversation in question. The suggestion of ’pseudonym’ settled on their tongue, and the scribe was about to share the insight when a snap from Jorath jarred them out of their attempt to answer her. They turned back around to frown at Jorath, arm inching upwards in a ‘calm down’ gesture -

 

“You useless waste of flesh.”

Vaz recoiled, the hand snatching back to rest against their own chest while the other gripped around their wrist. They went wide-eyed at the snarling commentary that followed, stumbling back another step until they had time for the more rational part of their consciousness to register that it wasn’t them he was talking to. The scribe swallowed, now frozen in place as they absorbed the rest of Jorath’s words. At some point they felt something brush against their side, and they twitched their head to see a blur of soft, white feathers brushing against their shoulder. Xaal stood at their side, glaring down Jorath and her hand coiled around the middle of the bow she had summoned during the exchange.

Jorath retreated, extracting himself before any more damage could be wrought on the group. Somewhere behind them Vaz heard a snicker issuing from Mag’than. They scowled and tried to take a step forward, only for Xaal to grab hold of their coat and keep them at her side. Vaz felt their throat tighten and that miserable, persistent stinging threaten to return to their eyes.


Fret not, Vazithrazuul. Give him a chance to breath. I shall inform you if he tries to do anything rash.

 

There was a momentary pause in Fi’Faltuun’s script, as the quill in question tried to do an assessment of the condition Jorath was in.

 

Or faints.

 

At the advice of both Xaal and the quill, Vaz shifted their hands into their pockets and watched the man fade into the shadows of the tunnel. Shivering fingers brushed against the quills and scraps of parchment within, bringing a vague sense of comfort back to the scribe and relaxing them enough to tune back into Argia’s lamenting. Something brushed against Vaz’s cheek, and they realised that Lojaal had wriggled out from under Argia’s shawl to join them. Vaz glanced at her, nodded, and the quill then drifted away from her scribe once more.

 

“You did not have the required knowledge to avoid the situation.”

Mumbled Vaz, addressing Argia’s concerns but still focusing their gaze on the shadows of the tunnel that Jorath had disappeared into.

 

“But for future reference, it is best to reserve accusations of alternative origins for someone you despise. It is…rather unfortunate, for a demon to not have been born from the fires of the Hell Plane itself.”

 

“It’s wrong, is what you mean.”

 

Announced Mag’than, disgust bubbling into her features. She looked about to elaborate on the matter, but was cut off from the budding rant when Vaz swivelled sharply on their heel and startled her by looming over her with an expression of pure venom.

 

“One more word, my dear. If you say one more word tonight I’m going to f***ing take them from you.”

 

“Shame about the quill. You realise it’s your fault that Hell’s gonna know he’s human? Right?”

 

Mag’than didn’t get her answer. Instead a sharp cry of pain erupted from her and she spasmed, feeling something piece into the flesh around her ankle. Instinctively she kicked outwardly, her foot connecting with the quill that had attacked her and sending it spiraling through the air away from her. Mag’than snarled out some profanities in Oldspeak as the pain in her leg seared and flared, the ancient, celestial influence in the injected ikaar evidentially not mixing well with her own. It had a very similar affect to her as the transition between The Archives and the mortal realm, causing a bout of nausea to roll through her stomach and a numbing headache to start thumping through her brain. Mag’than slunk to the ground again as the feeling worsened. She tried to speak, but all that issued from her was a garbled string of syllables that made little sense in any language she was familiar with. 

 

“Oh, do shut up.”

 

Vaz hissed as they walked away from her, more concerned with making sure that Lojaal’O’Ith hadn’t been damaged by the kick than with the state that Mag’than was in. They gradually made their way back over to Argia, hands massaging at their temples as they tried to orientate themself towards her question. Lojaal hovered a few paces behind them, eventually drifting back into Argia’s reach as her scribe muttered to themself.

 

“Both have ornate, elaborate letterforms written by a disciplined hand upon lined parchment. The authors are careful in their penmanship, avoiding smears though there are times when their hand begins to press harder into the paper than necessary. The ink is tainted, its rich and ebony tone marred by a smear of crimson across the page-“

 

The scribe trailed off, pinching at their nose as they remembered that the specific description of her aura generally meant nothing without the centuries upon centuries of experimentation and documentation behind it.

 

“My apologies. Allow me to try a different approach. I…perceive auras as words upon paper. I glean information from the style of the handwriting, as well as the canvas it is written on. Your handwriting is...staggeringly similar to the style you see Naya’il written in upon your wrist there. In fact, the only clear difference is between your canvases. The lines on Naya’il’s parchment are much thinner. She is erm...more outspoken, perhaps, or more free. Unrestrained. The sort that listens to authority and tends to play by its rules, but also capable of questioning its decisions.”

 

Vaz sighed, heavily, and wiped a hand across their face to let it settle over their mouth. Against their cheek their finger tapped, a scowl of concentration etched onto their face until it gave way to a more drained detachment from the conversation.

 

“I…think I shall go track Jorath down.The last time I let him storm off we ended up having to put up with this flea-bitten nuisance of a hairball.”

 

Vaz gestured with a sneer towards Mag’than, who by this point had no idea what was being said but decided from the tone of voice that she would flip them off just to have some shred of resistance still about her current predicament. The scribe ignored the gesture for the most-part and turned to trudge on further into the subway, stopping only when Xaal paced forward and grabbed them by the arm.

 

‘Jorath said not to follow. Might be dangerous.’

 

Vaz shook her off and grumbled out a rebuttal in aeiuwn. When they glanced back at her she shuffled uncomfortably but continued all the same.

 

‘I think he is using you. Doesn’t care.”

 

Warned the angel. Vaz huffed and shook their head at her before continuing their trek away from the fire. Xaal watched as they shuffled away from her, a grimace playing on her features.

 

Vaz hadn’t verbalised their disagreement.

Xaal’s wings clamped up against her back, signalling her distress as she returned to the fire and slumped down besides Argia. She didn’t make any attempt to communicate with her at first, instead idly toying with a piece of chalk that was sitting beside her and then starting to doodle on the concrete beneath her.

‘I can help. If you have forgotten something important. I can take you to your memories and explore.’

Edited by Lycanious

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Argia didn't want to acknowledge the implications of Vaz's explanation about the auras they saw. Her gaze flicked to the name etched upon her skin, locating 'Naya'il'. She covered it with her hand abruptly. Vaz was right about the form of the script but that didn't mean--What reason did she have to trust their word on the matter when they told her, themself, not to be so quick to trust?

What reason did she have to not believe them, though?

No. Lifelines, as she understood them, were unique to each soul. Auras were very likely the same. And she could prove that there was no connection between her and Naya'il. Of course! Much like with Maeva, she brushed her fingertips along the script, intending to pull Naya'il's story. If her name was upon Argia's skin, it stood to reason she had come across her soul.

Yet, nothing happened. Her hackles began to prickle and she tried again. Still, Naya'il's name did not respond and her story did not come forward. When Argia looked away, Vaz was already leaving and Xaal came to sit beside her. Chalk graced the ground as the woman made lazy doodles. Gradually, Argia's gaze drifted to Mag'than once more, watching the demon struggle with the nonsensical sounds pouring from her mouth. "Is it so vile to be a demon with human origins?" she asked, quietly.

Is it so wrong to be different?

Argia blinked, not certain of where the thought came from but realizing her mind was beginning to drift to Taathiir's remark about ostracization. It also returned to her attention that Vaz had called the individual a Collector. One with a name suggesting that they had Fallen. They recognized Atropos even though she'd never seen them before.

She turned to Xaal, shifting herself just enough so that she faced the other woman better. "You were trying to make this exact offer earlier, weren't you? Back at the theater?" Argia remembered Xaal's signing getting interrupted shortly after revealing this secret of hers about Naya'il's name. "I still do not believe that I have forgotten anything important. However, I am having visions of Kirit and Meztli in this strange place, despite not being able to connect with my sovereign." She pointed towards the empty ticket booth where the duo still stood in front of, as if trying to emphasize the matter. "And earlier while above... I had a vision of a graveyard in the middle of the street."

Tightly clasping her hands together within her lap, Argia allowed a slight scowl to wrinkle her nose and curl her lips. She realized there was a combative feeling beginning to stir within, so she focused on directing it into something more productive. "Are you able to focus on the Collector who spoke with Vaz and I above ground just before Gregory came running out?" Maybe Xaal could prove, in this way, that she wasn't Naya'il and that Taathiir was sorely mistaken. All she needed was to prove that she and Taathiir had never crossed paths before. Easy enough to do as they were in completely different worlds... Realms... whatever she was meant to call them, until tonight.

But the vision she had in the tunnels earlier called up the slightest flicker of doubt.

---

The haze pushing against the edges of his awareness had retreated shortly after leaving the station but Jorath kept walking. He needed his adrenaline to come down, for his flesh to no longer feel like it was crawling. At one point, in an attempt to cease scratching at his arms, he reached for the chain beneath his sleeve and attached it to his pants at the hip. Idly, shoving fabric out of the way as best he could, he tracked the burns Illstrund had left behind.

Useless waste. He didn't know where the insults to Argia had ended and the ones at himself had begun. Regardless, that she had taken it all without protest was distressing. Jorath recognized that he wasn't the first one to shout at her. The insight formed wrinkles in his brow. What was her skillset? Not a Seeker; that had been a ruse to Ditraxol. She wasn't a Hunter though, either. At least, not that he could figure. Maybe a Soldier? She had that sword, after all. No. Soldiers didn't deal with reaping human souls like she mentioned.

Jorath rubbed at his face a few times, grumbling beneath his breath. Oldspeak trickled among the Common. Even some of his native language slipped through in his agitated state. "Maybe I should pick up yoga," he muttered, to which Fi wriggled against the side of his head. "Are you agreeing or laughing at me?" She came free to float before his face, feather waving. "Fine. I'll take it as agreement."

Eyeing his scratched-up arms, he could see the silver beginning to recede back under his sleeves. Shifting the top of his shirt, though, revealed the spider-webbing of tendrils still in full sight. He was taking it as a good sign, either way. Briefly, he could imagine Vaz's words at the back of his thoughts, chiding him for the disheveled state of his shirt and idly adjusted it into a better display. But he still refused to do the top two buttons.

"You should start wearing a necklace; I like how a silver chain looks around your throat."

A hand came up to rub at his collarbone and he swallowed down the bile that was rising. Jorath rolled his shoulder, trying to work out the tension, even as Er'anir crept through his thoughts. She was laughing at him. Always was laughing. "She's got your journal." He hadn't meant to start speaking, but he needed the words to drown out the memories. "And she almost got the chain tonight." Which, when he thought about that, he wondered why she hadn't made an attempt for it when they crossed paths tonight. Why wait? She'd been at his back. Had him--

Jorath shook his head, scooping and grabbing a pebble off the ground to chuck it down the tunnel with a growl. His back crawled, his shorn wings aching beneath his human skin. "She had me, all over again. Weak. Powerless." Fi'Faltuun circled him, lightly resting against the back of his hand. He stared at her, breathing shallow. "Trapped." Jerking his hand away from the quill, he continued walking. Fingers combed his hair before simply curling into the strands for a moment, then fell away. "I don't know why she didn't just--" His neck burned as a restraint lit up. Coughing when the sensation began passing, Jorath sucked in air and pressed his back against the wall to slide down.

He was tired. It's meant to bring humans peace. Meant to lull him to sleep. He scoffed at the thought. "It didn't work for one human. You failed, Argia." Or maybe she hadn't. Jay had been dead for hundreds of years. Regardless of his origins, there was no human left. Drawing one knee up to rest his arm across, Jorath fiddled with another rock. Again, Fi'Faltuun came close to his hand. He frowned at her. "I know you're giving me a look. I get it; I'm being unfair to Argia. 'How could she possibly know?'" he muttered, altering his voice just slightly to suggest an imitation. A moment after, he dropped the rock and sighed, lifting a finger to stroke the quill. Memory of Vaz's wings surfaced, including the charcoal that coated their feathers and the rough texture left behind from plucking. "I already plan on apologizing to her, don't worry. I also want to know how she figured out to bounce the rage back at me so quickly. That was impressive for someone so new to this." The corner of his mouth quirked up, but the sentiment didn't reflect to his eyes.

A moment passed. Then a second. As the third moment ticked by, Jorath inhaled and straightened, shaking off the quiet that had fallen. Rearranging so that he sat cross-legged, he leaned forward and inspected his arms again. Less silver. Better. Still on his chest though. Manageable. He busied himself with unraveling the bandage on his hand, flexing it a few times to test it again. The cut from Gregory's dagger wasn't going to heal tonight; celestial energy always disrupted demonic healing. Vice versa, too, from what Jorath understood. But then, in the grand scheme of things, he didn't know a lot about celestial beings. In fact... "Why does Vaz hang around me?" he asked Fi. She twitched and Jorath nodded. "Yeah, I know. Not gonna be able to tell me with just gestures." Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed again.

Vaz's aura edged into his awareness and was only coming closer.

"Your Scribe refuses to listen. A lot." His voice didn't match the scold, however. The tone was too light. And Jorath was smirking, faintly, about that. "I don't know about you, Fi, but I kind of appreciate that about them." He paused, gaze drifting in the direction he'd come from. Again, he pondered why the demon bothered being seen around him. It wasn't like he could bolster the Scribe's reputation among demons in a positive way. A scowl slowly started to etch its way across his face. "Suppose even a human has his usefulness to Vaz." And, at some point, Jorath's usefulness would end. Then what? They crossed paths because Vaz needed a meat shield that could take a hit. Time only proved to put Vaz in more frustrating positions because of Jorath. Perhaps he should point that out, get things done and over with sooner instead of letting it all drag on?

He was only as good as he was useful to someone else and his usefulness was painstakingly limited.

Jorath made a sound when Fi flicked her feather against his face, earning a snarl at the quill. "What?" She was swaying and trying to gesture something. Adamant about it. At last, he figured out what she was trying to get across. He frowned at her. "Look. It's true. Vaz despises humans. I am--was--human. Doesn't take more than a brain cell to connect those dots." He got up, wanting to keep a distance from Vaz. Fi stopped in front of his face though, and wouldn't let him proceed without the risk of shoving her away. No matter how he stepped sideways or tried ducking. Jorath glared at her. "Would you stop? The truth we all know is that my usefulness is finite. It's even more so when you add that I'm a Luck Demon who's only bringing constant misfortune to your Scribe. It's any wonder you haven't attacked me for it!"

Hell. It was a wonder Vaz hadn't thrown him out yet. Scold him, sure, when things went south. But toss him? Jorath hesitated again, the rest of his protests dying in his throat. As Vaz got nearer, he shifted through his memories of the bargains and prospective alliances the two had worked in. While some panned out successfully, and a soul or two were contracted or territory was obtained thanks to Vaz's skills, Jorath focused on the ones that fell through. Some were spectacular failures. But the rumors that followed? His shoulders began to shake as a derisive laugh found its way up. "No, wait. That can't be--" Was that right?

Turning to Vaz as they came into sight, Jorath stuffed his hands into his pockets. "How many of our failed dealings ended up being a good thing? How many times did it turn out to be a dupe for the next guy after us?"

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Xaal

 

Xaal regarded Argia in a sombre manner, wings sagging from the shared sentiment that it was an unnecessary cruelty to distrust and despise alternative origins so much. Not that she approved of any other being joining their ranks of course, but she did hold a shred of sympathy for the fact that no amount of effort to prove otherwise seemed to truely sway the opinion of Hell as a whole.

 

‘Most demons see mortals as resources. Beneath them.’

 

The angel tried to explain, though she followed the gestures with a shrug to indicate that she wasn’t entirely certain over whether that was the reason Mag’than had taken to heart. Xaal had heard dozens upon dozens of explanations in her lifetime over why demons were so averse to anyone not born of the Fire, but the sentiment that mortals were just not meant to comprehend or wield its power seemed to be the most common one. It was only a marginally different take on their opinion of Fallen among their ranks, who instead seemed to be seen more as a threat to the Fire and so were to either be eradicated or worn down to the point where they were no longer of concern.

 

‘I don’t know why not-pure-demons still try to be demons. Only brings pain and sadness. But it does make sense that Jorath could have been human.’

 

Added Xaal, finding herself torn between feeling sorry for the man or whether to continue to stew over the fact that she found his motivations for staying with the group questionable at best. She wasn’t sure whether the idea that he may have originally been human was better or worse in this scenario, considering that he undoubtedly would have had to have done something horrible to have ended up in Hell in the first place. Right? And Xaal didn’t even want to think about what sort of dark dealings were involved in transforming a mere mortal into the glimpse of the beast she had seen of him already. Speculating over what exactly Vaz had done for their own conversion was already bad enough.

 

Xaal found herself continuing to draw as she mulled over Jorath’s origins, but she set aside the piece of chalk when Argia started to address the offer that had been lingering on her mind since they had left the theatre. Golden eyes flickered towards the ticket booth when indicated, and the wrinkle in her brow increased when she sensed nothing there. The Guardian then gave her an aside glance, watching that tell-tale sign of a mixed, complex cocktail of suppressed emotions spark into her aura then fade once more at the concept that her memory was infallible. Argia was wrong, that much at least Xaal was convinced was the case. She just didn't have an explanation as to how or why.

 

When asked to focus on the Collector Xaal turned and properly locked eyes with her companion, shifting her sights towards her aura specifically. It was difficult to glean any clear imagery from it right now, but the usual swirls of colours and abstract shapes that danced before Xaal’s eyes could usually give her some vague idea of an answer. Xaal instructed her to concentrate on the name ‘Taathiir’ to make the process easier and then squinted back into the depths of her aura. A vague, black shadow started to ebb into view, forming a long streak of colour that looked like it might have been a feather of some kind. It was joined by a similar streak beside it, this one a warm shade of brown. Surrounding the two feathers, spots of blue seemed to flicker in and out of focus. Xaal grew a little dizzy from the effect, blinking and soon withdrawing herself from the image as she apologised to Argia.

 

'Sorry, difficult to do here. You have much resistance. I can take you to The Gallery later, though. Much easier there. But I saw two shapes, I think feathers, black and brown. Lots of blue orbs. Kind of glowing and floating.’

 

Thoughts of the graveyard apparition now drifted back into the conversation, as Xaal tested out whether she had a way of being any more helpful.

 

‘There is a realm, called The Graveyard. I don’t know it very well - not my area. But place is only made for Collectors. Visitors are rare and need permission.’

 

Her attention shifted briefly back to Mag’than, who seemed to be experiencing at least some small sliver of regret for running her mouth off so much and was now curled up into a ball to endure the affliction upon her. Xaal tilted her head and watched her in an almost idle manner. She was stalling, really, worried that she would set off another spout of Argia suddenly flying off down the tunnel after more visions of her deities. She took a breath and flexed out her wings first, deciding to curl two of them around Argia’s shoulders. With a bit of luck, some of her old ability to calm restless minds still lingered in her feathers.

 

‘Are you sure you are not a Collector…? Or maybe Harbinger is another word for Collector? Can you tell me more about what The Graveyard looks like? Maybe you met them there before?’

 

 

Vaz

 

Vaz hadn’t been sure what to do when they finally spotted Jorath’s silhouette at the end of the tunnel. They had found themself lulled into a sort of daze as they wandered through the tunnel, forced into quiet contemplation by virtue of not having anyone else around to either talk the ear off of or eavesdrop on. By the time they had reached him a small part of them was apprehensive over an abrupt thought that their motivations for following were of a more selfish nature. An even smaller, but none-the-less persistent part of them wanted to take the opportunity to chastise the other demon for….something that Vaz wasn’t entirely certain about any more. For what he had just said to Argia seemed the most logical source of their disapproval. And yet, Vaz could feel a deeper ache somewhere in their core that suggested there was more to it than that.

 

Vaz suddenly felt very drained. Again. For a single, fleeting second they could feel the amount of energy they had available to parts of their vast, labyrinthian mind shift in an attempt to delve properly into finding out exactly what it was that was frustrating them so much with Jorath’s behaviour and-

 

USELESS WASTE OF FLESH.

 

The fallen angel jerked back into alertness, their breath hitching as they scrambled to restore the barrier between themself and The Voice. Their pacing stopped abruptly as they realised Jorath had now turned to face them, blue eyes piercing through the darkness and beckoning for…Answers. At the end of the day it was always for answers when it came to Vaz, no matter who the person was. It was what made them useful, after all.

 

Vaz didn’t reply right away, more occupied with meeting his gaze of blue with their own, scrutinising amber and an owlish expression. Eventually they gave in to the drive for knowledge to be shared and glanced away, the darkness of the tunnel emphasising the dull gleam of gold now in their eyes as they sifted through the more recent files of their Contract records.

 

“That’s a rather subjective inquiry my dear…The Lord of Decadence was a cheat. The Lord of Torment lost half his souls and all his territory mere days before the Contract would have been sealed….erm…Oh and of course Ako’droloch would have demanded one of us murder the other before handing over all the spoils.”

 

Vaz had more to rattle off, but a flicker from Fi suggested that three examples were enough for now. The scribe reigned in their ability to glean certain parts of The Archives from afar and returned their attention back to the demon in front of them, tilting their head in an inquisitive manner.

 

“I would say, on average, about half of them in the time I have known you. A few depend on whether you consider having a pack of Alpha hellhounds released into your realm to be a minor inconvenience or all of your nightmares realised at once.”

 

Concluded the scribe. They caught more movement from Fi in the corner of their eye and acknowledged her with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Fi would like to add that if you seek the truth to any matter, you should ask its source directly. She seems to think you have some important questions for me.”

 

They studied Jorath once more at their words, unable to completely hide the weariness in their tone. Xaal’s parting warning crept into their thoughts and they then averted their gaze, twisting the corner of their mouth into a resigned sort of grimace as they starred over at the brickwork of the wall beside them. It was easier to brush aside such accusations about Jorath’s motivations when it came from someone like Mag’than, who undoubtedly despised their very existence. Hearing it from Xaal, on the other hand, had let a seed of doubt start to take root in their thoughts.

 

Vaz twitched their neck, flipping through pages in their mind so that their concerns were shifted aside for now. They decided to try and remedy the growing sense of fatigue by slinking over to the wall and sliding down onto the ground with their back against it. Once they had slumped into a seated position the scribe patted around in their pockets for the orb that Zoe had given them and fished it out into view. Spindly fingers turned and prodded the object as Vaz squinted at it through the darkness, contemplating what other uses it had beyond reviving broken lightbulbs. Tentatively, Vaz sent a small pulse of raw energy from their fingertips to its surface, and smiled when their experiment proved successful in getting the object to emit some of its own light. The fallen angel began to channel a little more of their magic into the object, bathing the surrounding area in a dull glow. Though their vision didn’t require it, the warmer tone of the lighting did help to make the end of the tunnel feel a bit more inviting to them.

 

“May I see your hand?”

 

Vaz asked, once they were satisfied with the amount of light available and had set aside the orb onto the ground beside them. They shifted to a cross-legged position, ebony nails tapping rhythmically on the ground on the side opposite the orb before they reached out for the injured hand in question. They knew it wasn’t his reason for withdrawing from the group, but it seemed like something they could both focus on with ease as a starting point.

 

“I might be able to do something about the Celestial side of things, if you can sit still for longer than a few minutes. Perhaps we can discuss how you plan to apologise to the lovely Argia for your outburst in the meantime?”

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[[ Wow, this post feels so small :U But then, I don't want to completely rule over the dialogue but, non-issue. I can always just bolster more interiority :3 ]]

 

Argia

Xaal faced her and grew still. Argia sensed the woman's attention drifting elsewhere, even as she briefly directed her to focus upon Taathiir's name. She also thought about their face. How the scar ran down through their left eye and then seemed to veer across their cheek as if they jerked their head away from whatever caused it. The joy in their expression draining away when she pulled back from their hand. The crow feathers and how their name was associated with The Gardener and Razathna--

You need to run.

Argia flinched at Taathiir's unexpected voice in her head. No, they never said--She blinked and found Atropos in her hand, broadsword across her lap. Flowers and bushes filled the station, spheres of blue fire drifting through the air. One hovered near Argia's shoulder. Cracked headstones were planted in the ground. Kirit and Meztli stood on either side of Xaal, staring at Argia as the pair said something. They each lifted a hand--

She shut her eyes and forced herself to focus on something else, heart racing as she shivered with cold. "'Cemetery'," Argia breathed out when she opened her eyes and saw Xaal's gestures, shaking her head. "It's called 'The Cemetery'." The station was back to normal but she still shook, looking around as she sat there, wondering if it might change again. It took a moment for her to register what she just said and she rushed to tack on, "At least, that's what Taathiir called it." She dispelled Atropos, noticing that it delayed in obeying her again.

That's not right. I've never been in a cemetery. "Kirit and Meztli forbad me from ever setting foot in places where mortals were laid to rest. Explained that my presence would disturb their souls. As such, I have never set foot in such a place." Xaal's feathers brushed against her side, wings nudging her shoulders. The awareness of it oddly kept tension at bay, allowing her to sag faintly. Though, uncertain of how to respond, Argia reached for her shawl and pulled it tighter around herself. "I'm a Harbinger. One of four. Or well, technically three as one was destroyed though his purpose was shuffled to inhabit the body of another Harbinger. They could handle having two purposes," she murmured. "I deal with Death and, in the same respects, Life. The coincidence of me being akin to what you call a Collector is just that: coincidence. I--"

Argia stopped speaking, looking away as she remembered the pull of... something, within the museum. White feathers with black speckling filled her vision, however, preventing her from seeing anything of the station unless she looked up at the ceiling. She wanted to change the topic, directing her thoughts away from brown feathers and names and conflicting visions and--"What do you mean that it 'makes sense' Jorath possibly used to be human?"

Jorath
It was subjective?

That wasn't something Jorath had expected. Either something ended up a good thing or it didn't. Good luck or bad. The idea that--Depends on how you look at a pack of Alpha hellhounds? He paused, Vaz's remark replaying more than once among his thoughts. Mortals weren't always hoping for unlimited wealth or charming every person they met. Some wanted another mortal to suffer. One person's view of good fortune could be... "I don't know why I didn't see it that way before," he said, voice quickly dying as Vaz arched an eyebrow at him (or maybe at Fi) and said something more.

Of course. Jorath almost rolled his eyes, a flicker of frustration wriggling through in light of Fi's meddling. Snitch. Though he hadn't expected anything less, he chided himself for not having thought sooner of what she would inform her scribe about. That she had kept it vague, however, was a blessing he would acknowledge as Vaz moved to sit against the wall. They pulled an orb out of their pocket, soft light emanating from it shortly after. "So that's how you got the lights to work earlier," he mused. "Where'd you get such a thing?"

At the Scribe's wish to see his hand, Jorath sighed and stepped closer, sitting beside them and holding the cut palm out to them. A grimace flickered across his face. "Yeah, I know. Do you think groveling on the ground and begging for her forgiveness is enough for everything I said to her?" A pause. "Vaz, she barely bat an eye while I was laying into her. Do you think--" He grunted. "Who am I kidding? She's in the business of mortal death. Argia's probably used to humans screaming obscenities at, or about, her." His shoulders sagged. "I don't think I can come up with an apology big enough."

His lips pressed into a thin line. "To Argia and you."

Falling silent, his gaze drifted to Fi as she hovered nearby. She made a flicking motion, as if shooing someone away. Or encouraging someone to move forward. Immediately, a protest rose in his throat, though he clamped it down before it saw the air. He knew what the quill wanted him to say, to ask, but he was also fairly certain of what the answers would be.

Your usefulness is running out, Jay. What lifeline will you have to grab once it's gone?

"I let her get behind me," Jorath mumbled, at which Fi seemed to droop slightly. Quickly, he added, "Not--not on purpose. I don't want Er'anir at my back, ever. But I--She--" He made a sound, wordlessly expressing frustration at his lack of ability to find the best formulation of his words. His features twisted with the growing unease in his gut.

"You can't face Er'anir," Jorath said, voice failing to be as firm as he wanted or needed it to be. "You can't because I don't... I don't think I can keep you safe from her. And--" He pulled his hand away from Vaz, rubbing at his neck before tucking his arms around himself. "And if I can't keep you safe, can't take the hits for you, then what use am I to you? Just a beast desperately clinging to the remnants of his humanity, trying to pretend he can make it in a demon's shoes."

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Xaal

 

Quirking an eyebrow over the correction for the name, Xaal made a choice not to dwell on the implication for too long. With every attempt to refute her suggestions Xaal only felt more and more determined that there was something buried in Argia’s past that she was refusing to acknowledge. Argia, however, was giving her a clear indication that she wanted to change the topic. She isn’t ready. Reasoned Xaal with a sad smile. Maybe later. Xaal nodded in vague acknowledgement and shrugged at the thought that it could all just be one grand coincidence, even though she didn’t really believe her on the matter any more.

 

‘I just mean that it was possible for him to be human. But it...maybe is why Jorath and Vaz are friends?’

 

Continued Xaal, though she did punctuate the choice of the gesture for ‘friends’ with a questioning squint over whether it was an accurate term to use. She had never been entirely clear on what level of familiarity a ‘business associate’ was whenever Vaz introduced someone as such, it seemed to be their go-to word for ‘anyone not actively trying to sabotage my existence’. 

 

‘Pure demons would not want to be seen with Vaz unless working. Bad for reputation. But...not sure if Jorath has other reasons. Vaz used to be very powerful. Could maybe be again, if they absorbed a lot of souls or influence. Do you think he could know that and just be wanting something from them?’

 

The Guardian paused her concerns to anxiously knot her fingers together, glancing back down towards the tunnel with the expectation that the duo would suddenly appear right there and then. When she failed to pick up any auras lingering in the distance she turned back around and continued her train of thought.

 

‘What do you think of Jorath? Do you think we can trust them? He seems very aggressive but...he could have killed these humans. It would have made hiding easier after losing home. But something stopped him. Yes?’

 

Feeling her mind start to reel from the uncertainty, Xaal eased back onto her feet and ventured towards the humans that had been lulled into a slumber by Argia’s words, now looking for her own distraction. First she inspecting the duo that had fallen asleep while propped up against each other, a sliver of a smile visible as she amused herself over the sight of them. She then wandered over to Gregory and, after shaking him by the shoulders proved to be unsuccessful in stirring him, scooped him up in her arms to go and place him in a more comfortable position beside his friends.

 

‘Do you know how long they might be asleep for?’

 

Inquired Xaal, once she had freed up her hands once more and finished nudging at the trio with the toe of her boot.

 

‘We should stay and guard, if a while. Maybe check for more information about The Order while we wait?’

 

 

Vaz

 

“A gift from Zoe, something to entice us into joining Auris Domniir. We seem to be shaping up to be quite the recruitment target, actually.”

 

The scribe explained as Jorath took his seat and held out his hand. Emitting a small ‘tsk’ sound at the sight of the wound, Vaz manoeuvred it closer for inspection and briefly conferred with Fi’Faltuun over its appearance.

 

“Looks like a Vox angelis weapon did this...”

 

Murmured Vaz, a frown ghosting their features as remnants of an all-too-familiar aura ebbed from the singed flesh. If correct if would make treating the wound easier, but Vaz didn’t want to think for too long over how such a weapon had ended up in this particular Realm. Vaz traced their thumb over his palm and rested it just below the gash, mumbling another incantation to encourage the holy energy to start to leech itself from his hand and flow through Vaz’s own to their core. It was a slow process, one that could take several minutes in their current condition, so Vaz relaxed their back up against the brick wall and shut their eyes as they pondered Jorath’s options.

 

“I don’t think she’s one for grovelling my dear, judging from her interactions with the mortals that have suddenly been placed under her care.”

 

Memories of how Argia had reacted when they had encouraged everyone to bow to her earlier conjured themselves up before the scribe. It was a standard sign of respect among both angels and demons, Vaz hadn’t thought much of it at the time other than a way to help establish the supposed pecking order. But in hindsight, she did look rather uncomfortable with the notion of having authority over anyone there.

 

“Just be honest, perhaps, in as much as you can be. Properly talk to her. She seems an intelligent and reasonable woman...I find such beings often place a lot of value and ease in just understanding the full truth of a matter my dear.”

 

Eyelids fluttered back open, and Vaz regarded him with an aside glance when he expressed concerns over not being able to apologise enough to not only Argia, but them as well. They emitted a short hum of acknowledgment but otherwise didn’t offer an answer, instead absorbing the brief silence that had settled over the pair of them. It was an oddly hollow moment, Vaz wanted to offer some reassurance over the matter but they found themself at a rare loss for words.

 

Eventually, Jorath started to fill the silence again, and the despondent sensation gave way to an emotion that was easier to both define and pinpoint the source of. The scribe’s face hardened when he spoke of Er’anir, a quiet fury rolling through them as he drew attention to his back. Vaz twitched, lips curling for a split second into a snarl before they reminded themself to breathe and calmed back down. An ache settled across the joints in their wings and back as they thought of Jorath’s own. Eyes clenched shut again as the phantom pain then travelled to their lower back and settled there, prompting just the hint of a wince from Vaz as they pressed up against the wall to shake it off. 

 

Jorath snatched his hand out of their grasp again, dislodging Vaz from both the echo of pain and the budding, horrifying realisation that Er’anir was likely responsible for Jorath being rendered a Terras-mar. Slowly, the rest of his words crept into their mind and settled there, a confusing haze spreading throughout it. I don’t think I can keep you safe from her. She had mutilated Jorath’s wings and back, but his primary concern was...was...

 

“A beast wouldn’t even care about that, L’antiira. You are equating your identity with your success in protecting others, not in the very fact that you are still driven to do-so in the first place. And you shouldn’t...I don’t deserve...”

 

Vaz sighed and shifted as the struggled to weave their way around that sentence, drifting to the side until they found their temple thudding lightly against the other demon’s shoulder. Faintly an odd sense of contentment ebbed at the back of their mind, perhaps from the warmth now pressed against them, and it spurred them on into their next tangent.

 

“I would think my insistence on trying to keep you away from Er’anir and Malvorin tonight would be a testament to the fact that I value you far more than that, L’antiira. I want to keep you safe, my dear. I want to make sure you come back alive from all your Bargains and Contracts, so that I still have someone to sit down to lunch with and have listen to my long, boring ramblings while they plot new ways to aggravate some obnoxiously disapproving gentleman across from us.” 

 

They reached for the arms crossed over his chest as they spoke, resting one of their hands on top and gently applying a downward pressure that they hoped would encourage him to relax once more. 

 

“Just...whatever you do, please don’t try to face her on your own. We can go sit down with the others. Explain who Er’anir is and what she has done to you, and formulate some semblance of an actual plan. Or if you can’t do that then just...let yourself get some proper rest, at least. Ask for another one of Argia’s stories, perhaps. She might like that. And it would show there’s no hard feelings. If it’s the vulnerability of sleep that bothers you then why don’t I just sit beside you and keep an eye out for trouble for a few hours? I do have a few to spare for it.”

Edited by Lycanious
I keep forgetting the difference between breath and breathe pretend you didn’t see anything sssh

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[[I'll come back with Taathiir later 👀 For now, just have some filler.]]

 

Argia
Argia considered Xaal's questions, watching as she got up to nudge the slumbering mortals and bring Gregory over to the other two. "I'm not sure. I don't think Jorath is untrustworthy, per se. It's true that he displays aggression and violence. There's a rage within him," she stated, frowning. "Somehow, I can sense it. I could sense it from Ditraxol as well when Vaz and I encountered the Wrath demon before finding Jorath." Her gaze drifted to Gregory. "It feels focused, like there's a specific target it's meant for. Ditraxol had wanted to find Jorath so he could harm him for a wrong Jorath had done. And Jorath..." She returned to his insults, how he referenced a 'her'. "Isn't much different, whoever 'she' is that he mentioned. Perhaps he has no desire to harm anyone else but this one individual?"

Pulling her gaze away from Gregory, she focused on Xaal once more. "No, he didn't hurt the Order, even though he had no obligation to restrain himself at the time. From my standpoint, he has not done anything to earn my distrust. Though--" She made a slight sound. "There had been a moment when Vaz ushered me away with haste, leaving them alone with Jorath. He was struggling, with something, I believe? I don't think either of them wanted me to witness something." Calling the relationship between the two individuals a friendship didn't feel so far off. Although, she truly only had Vaz's behavior in the matter to go off of. Their certainty in the type of person he was. First impressions were often important... But everyone was warranted to have a bad day. That was the messiness of life. No matter how it conflicted with Vaz's advice about being wary with her trust in others.

She sighed, dropping her attention to the fire before her. "The influence of my story should wear off within the hour. After that, the three of them will wake up whenever on their own. Or someone can force them awake at that time." She shrugged, reaching for one of the books that Vaz had called closer when they came near the fire for her story. "Learning more sounds as good an option as any other for the moment. I still am unsure how it is these mortals came to think I am their Lady of Judgement."

Rifling through, she wasn't quite certain of what she was looking for until Lojaal indicated a page. Something Vaz had similarly discovered. It certainly explained why Richard and Jen were expecting a sacrifice. She frowned over the implications. "Why would innocence need to be sacrificed for justice?" The rest of the page wasn't providing a satisfactory reason. Instead, it elaborated the kind of ritual needed to fulfill the purpose and the role that The Lady would occupy. The second figure with ram horns would have received the means to identify that whom was meant to be judged and punished. 'Enforcer' was the title for them, said to hold the Book of Law. She ignored the scribbled handwriting in the margins that suggested something otherwise. "This... seems absurd, Xaal."

Argia shuffled to a different chapter, this one brimming with written notes. She blinked, grabbing a second book to flip to a specific section. "David mentioned that the Order was about getting justice for those who have been wronged. It looks like they've been a group for some time now, before the sun was gone." Her gaze trailed through the notes in the second book. A list of names traveled the page, a line spared for information about each one's injustice. The Order had some twenty individuals and most were focused on one atrocity or another committed by various demons. There were theories, too, about how to bribe Judgement for a desired outcome. "Why would they be studying theories to influence justice?" she inquired, tilting her head. "Or, maybe it's just one person doing so?" Different handwriting filled different sections of both books.

Jorath
He laughed. Humorlessly. "You're a hypocrite. You realize that? You want to keep me safe but don't think you deserve being protected?" Jorath scowled faintly, not knowing how else to respond to Vaz's truth of wanting him to stay safe. "You're not allowed to tell me what I can or cannot tie my value to when you won't accept that you deserve more than you think. If you want me to believe that I'm more than just a beast, then you need to trust that you have more worth as an individual, too." He stared down at Vaz's hand on his wrist, having let the pressure pull his hands into his lap. Jorath was still processing the contact from Vaz resting their head against his shoulder. There was a 'follow your own advice' quip somewhere in there and he knew it. It almost made him huff. Instead, he just frowned at his hands.

Glancing at Vaz from the corner of his eye, he studied them as they worked to convince Jorath of getting rest or including the rest in on the matter with Er'anir. "It's not the vulnerability," he said, eventually. Perhaps it was irrational. "But... I will consider it." Again, he fell silent, this time mulling over what the scribe said about 'disapproving gentlemen'. "I wondered about that. We haven't had a job together in a few years--a decade?--so, I didn't know what possessed you to still hang around me. And your ramblings aren't boring."

Tilting his head back to study the tunnel's ceiling, he made a sound. "Do you think Gregory actually knows I f***ed with his luck on that deck of cards? Or do you think he's only suspicious of me because I'm a demon?" He was stalling. Either Jorath wanted to delay dragging yet more people into the troubles of his unexpectedly-resurfacing past or he wanted to delay making a decision about resting. Likely, it was both.

"What makes you say we're of interest for recruitment?" Jorath asked, deciding that he would be productive in his stalling. He idly reached for the orb, feeling the faint warmth as it gave off its own light. Neither wanting to stare at it very long while it was essentially a light bulb, nor finding much about it to inspect, he returned it to where it'd been placed. "And what's this about some Taathiir fellow and Argia? Is that what Gregory ran out for, or something else?"

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Xaal

 

With Argia’s assessment of the demon Xaal found herself nodding along in agreement. She recalled the haze of red that had dominated his aura when she had been watching him, and there was little doubt that the man had a fury storming within him. Argia was right, though, there was a restraint somewhere in there. Some element that drove him into either snarling at people in the hopes that they would retreat from him or convince him to run before he properly lashed out. Perhaps it really, truely was just an anger reserved for whoever the mysterious woman was that he had alluded to.

 

‘True. Vaz and him were arguing when I met him but...I think more from stress. He tried to keep away the anger until he walked away. I think he does that a lot.’

 

Xaal shuffled in an uncomfortable manner when Argia recalled that she had been momentarily driven away from the two of them. Her eyes flickered to the spot beneath her shawl where she knew Lojaal lingered, but the quill seemed to be conveniently dormant during this discussion of the two demons. Perhaps it was for the best, if it was something truely unpleasant.

 

‘Was it a while? Both of them were feeding, probably.’

 

Realised Xaal, grimacing at the thought. Demons had a variety of ways they procured and devoured souls, but she had yet to find a method that wasn’t in some way horrifying to a Guardian angel. It was only some small, barely-tolerable mercy in that someone like Vaz tried to reserve such feasting for the truely wicked - sleuthing out individuals that even Xaal would have a hard time defending in their actions. She doubted they were infallible in their self-imposed rules though, and she had no idea whether Jorath held on to the same principles.

 

‘I’ve seen demons eat souls before. Very horrible. Might not have wanted you to see.’

 

Attentions shifted to the books, and Xaal wandered back over to the harbinger so that she could more easily read over her shoulder. When she stated that what was written down was absurd Xaal...hesitated to agree with her. A frown tugged at the corner of her mouth and she waved her head to the left and right in a motion that was meant to imply a ‘maybe’ in response. Did Xaal agree with any of it? Of course not. But she didn’t doubt that people were capable of doing some strange, terrible things in the hopes that they would get a taste of sweet revenge.

 

As Argia moved on to a second book Xaal took the first one from her for closer inspection. Golden eyes scanned through the notes scribbled in the margins with a growing sense of unease, but they did help to suggest a theory. She beckoned for the other woman’s attention and gestured back to her book, before placing it on top of Argia’s current one so that she could free up her hands for discussion.

 

‘Maybe not judgement. But vengeance.’

 

Xaal traced a finger over the related entries indicated at the bottom of the page, then flipped through the entries until she revealed a new figure for the harbinger to investigate. The image to the right depicted a demon of monstrous height and posed upon the deck of a large pirate ship, an enormous axe swung over his shoulder ready to bring it down upon some unfortunate soul that lingered out of frame of the image. Despite the era suggested by the style of the ship they were dressed in a manner that evoked less of the image of a pirate captain and more that of a Viking warrior, complete with a metal cap that had holes cut out for two of their horns to poke through.

 

Ikaarskrulniir, Demon Lord of Vengeance

 

Said to be over 7ft tall and have command over lightning itself, this merciless creature can only be brought unto the world with copious amounts of blood spilt in his name, for it is the life-source that he must continuously drink. Ikaarskrulniir commands his ship The Storm Bringer, which is said to evoke floods and storms wherever it ventures to drown out the lives of the sinners that dared to summon its captain.

 

His most commonly attributed symbol for evoking his wrath is a golden chalice, from which he drinks the blood that fuels his power.

 

The entry then continued on to the next page. Xaal clicked her tongue in thought. She decided to ignore the elephant in the room for now regarding the obvious candidate for who would be able to confirm or deny the exact mechanics behind inviting the Lord of Vengeance unto a world. It wasn’t as though Argia would be privy to their history, after all.

 

‘The entry is...confused. But some of it is right. I know this demon. Sacrifice is a way to summon them. Other demons, too. I think someone was trying to summon someone like them?’

 

She scratched at the back of her neck and gnawed at her lip, unsure of what to make of that. Someone like Ikaarskrulniir seemed like overkill to say the least, so it was more likely that it was someone of a smaller scale they had been aiming for. A member of their crew or old court, perhaps? Xaal glanced back up at Argia, now pondering her second question.

 

‘They must be worried that Judgement won’t agree with them. Maybe they have had a bad result from another encounter?’

 

 

Vaz

 

Opening their mouth and closing it again a few times, Vaz wasn’t sure how to refute Jorath’s statement, or even whether the other demon was angry with them or not over the supposed hypocrisy. His choice of words seemed full of accusation, but it was hard to tell if there was truely a bite to them or not. Regardless, Vaz felt safe enough to continue to lean against him, humming in thought but not quite answering. Eventually, mercifully, Jorath turned the conversation back towards his sleeping troubles and gave something easier for Vaz to focus on.

 

“Thank you. I’ll trust that you will consider it at least.”

 

Squeezing Jorath’s wrist in acknowledgement seemed...potentially detrimental right now, given the memory that stirred in Vaz’s mind over the shackles they knew to be hidden just below the surface of his skin. So instead they patted lightly at the limb then drifted their hand up towards his sleeve, where they could fuss about some more with that instead. They frowned as their fingers brushed against some hints of scratches along his arm, but they didn’t linger on it lest he pull the limb away from them again.

 

“...Is it nightmares, then? Like the one you had in my office? I think you should talk to Xaal at some point, if so. She has more experience when it comes to troubles with dreams.”

 

Ventured Vaz, before tutting and toying with a loose thread they had found on the man’s sleeve. Ruined the shirt already, Jorath? Really? When he started to speak again Vaz lifted their head off of his shoulder and starred up at him in a more direct manner. Despite the tension and unease that was threatening to settle into their discussion once more Vaz risked letting a fond, albeit slightly melancholy smile creep onto their face. 

 

“They seem boring to most individuals. People always want answers and advice from me, L’antiira. If they don’t think what I’m saying is useful to them in some way they either tune me out or they dismiss me entirely. I...suppose it is just nice to have someone to chatter to. It is...”

 

Vaz trailed off, a confusing combination of words drifting to the top of their tongue. For a moment they were lost in their indecision, eyes briefly flickering up towards the ceiling to see what was so interesting to Jorath up there. The comment on Gregory was sudden and caught them off-guard, earning a snort of genuine laughter despite the general demeanour of both of them.

 

“I think he suspects foul play. Though whether he’s aware there is more than just a devious sleight of hand at play I cannot say my dear. I presume at least one of them comprehends and has been dabbling in magic that they shouldn’t be, if those amusing attempts at warding circles are any indication.”

 

As thoughts turned to the man’s uncouth interruption of the discussion with Taathiir, Vaz extracted themself from the other demon with a grumble and sat upright against the wall.

 

“Good grief, I almost strangled him on sight. Their name was Taathiir-razuul. Not one of my lot though, a Collector by the sounds of it. We were having a perfectly civil conversation with them at any rate, and then the aggressive little twit just came charging out of nowhere to ruin it. They seemed to know Argia, albeit by the name of Naya’il, but she did not return the recognition.”

 

Vaz tented their fingers together and pursed their lips in thought, replaying Argia’s reactions over in their head.

 

“At any rate, I gave them one of my cards, so I plan to inquire on a few things without someone interrupting us. They seemed interested in speaking to you, too, if you’d like to accompany me to an appointment.”

 

Vaz trailed off at that, absorbing the quiet that was left behind as they gave Jorath a moment to mull over whether he wanted to speak with Taathiir or not as well. It left them with an opportunity to think back on Jorath’s earlier statement, finding themself torn between wanting him to join them and a budding guilt over the fact that it was, in retrospect, probably a rather selfish desire. 

 

It is.

 

Twitching at the dull echo, Vaz resigned themself all the same to the fact that it must have been. Being associated with one Fallen was bad enough but it was at least a deniable relationship, one that could usually be twisted into claims of purely personal gain. Multiple connections, on the other hand...

 

“I...no...wait. See this is what I mean I shouldn’t be asking you to...”

 

Vaz pinched the bridge of their nose and huffed, feeling another oncoming headache.

 

“It’s different when I say things my dear...I’m incapable of lies. If I can say you’re not a beast, then you’re not a beast. If I can say I don’t deserve pity or forgiveness then...well then I don’t, do I?”

 

With a grandiose gesture, as though delivering a soliloquy on a stage, Vaz demonstrated the root of a discovery that had troubled them for some time now.

 

“I don’t deserve the mercy of my deity. Nor the forgiveness of the angels I betrayed.”

 

Vaz kept themselves composed for a few seconds after the statement, save a dismissive little sniffle as they shifted their gaze away from their companion. They sniffed again when the tightness in their throat returned and wiped a hand over their face. When the manoeuvre proved to be ineffective they instead placed their head in both hands and did their best to muffle out the pathetic little whimper that was escaping them.

 

“I’m....I’m sorry my dear I don’t...I don’t know what’s come over me tonight...I just came to see that you weren’t doing yourself a mischief and now...I’m...there’s...why do mortal forms leak so much? What possible use do any of them even HAVE for this amount of fluid clouding their vision?!”

 

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[[ soidjfosidjf sorry about the delay. Writer's block sucks. Anyways, here's Taathiir for the moment while I get Argia and Jorath written up (I should have them posted by tomorrow at latest). Hopefully this helps sort out an intro for Lucy?]]

 

Taathiir

Their wings pulled back and tucked themselves away, revealing the confines of their private office. Taathiir was still. Their gaze lingered over the details of the rug that covered a portion of their floor. After a moment, they finally started peeling off their overcoat and returned it to the hanger. When their hands were free, they busied themself with cleaning up the items that had been scattered from their desk before. They tried to ignore the second sticky note, this one using a pale purple paper. But, as they grabbed the two notes, Taathiir found themself crumpling the pieces within a fist and stuffing them into a pant pocket.

They didn't know if they were supposed to be angry with The Pair or Fons Animarum, if they were supposed to be distraught over Naya'il not remembering who they were, annoyed at the brightly colored notes from Lucy, or something else entirely. They all but fell into their chair, resting an elbow on the armrest as they leaned their head into their hand. Silence occupied the office as Taathiir stared at opposite wall, idly studying the framed, cityscape painting; a location depicted by an artist that didn't exist in this Realm.

Knocking stirred Taathiir, pulling their attention to the individual that cracked the door open and peered inside. "Sir?" Fred edged himself into the room when Taathiir didn't dismiss the demon. "I've come to bring the report you requested from Ilzeth." They blinked at him. "Uh... Izzy? About her teams working on containing the conse--"

"Yes, right," Taathiir started, shaking their head once as they reached for the folder Fred had. Laying it upon the desk, they started rifling through the paperwork, skimming the abstract. In the next second, Taathiir paused and looked away from the report. They glanced at Fred from the corner of their eye. "Something else you need?"

The tall man strode further into the room, first ensuring that the door was closed. As Fred neared the desk, Taathiir reclined into their seat, gaze following the demon. Fred wasn't answering the question; he didn't say anything. Just propped himself on the edge of the desk and grabbed the paperweight that Taathiir kept more for decorative purpose. Primarily made with resin, it had a custom design to portray a tree with half of its limbs bare and the remaining leaves transitioning into a swarm of butterflies taking flight. It was one of Taathiir's favorite possessions.

For awhile, they were both silent, Taathiir's gaze flickering occasionally to the wall clock to track how much time Fred spent examining the paperweight. Eventually, Taathiir grumbled something in Oldspeak and leaned over to take the object from the demon's grasp. "Collectors have a wealth of patience, Fred, but I'm sure neither of us have the time to wait out the years. Now, out with it; you're picking up bad habits from Lucy."

Fred snorted, a grin breaking what had been a weak attempt at stoicism. Or intimidation. Taathiir could never really tell with him unless the demon wanted a specific look. "Hey, it works. Gets you talking first." Briefly, he drummed his fingers upon the desk as his expression seemed to sober. "Boss wants you down there to see her. She knows something happened and you ignored her note."

Taathiir's eye narrowed at Fred as they dug into their pocket and removed the crumpled notes, smoothing out the purple one. "Come see me." Nothing else. Not even a smiley icon. Looking away, they tore the small bit of paper into several pieces, earning a mild protest from Fred about the note's innocence.

"It doesn't concern her and it won't interfere with Auris Domniir."

"Says the guy that ran out during a meeting and then went No Contact for a few hours when subordinates tried speaking with leadership," Fred muttered. "Look, sir, we're just worried. Y'know? So, what happened?" Taathiir fixed the demon with a slight glare. Immediately, Fred threw his hands up defensively. "Okay, it's private. I get it. Would the boss know about it? Even just a little?"

Both of their gazes trailed down to the torn note and Taathiir sighed. Their shoulders sagged. "Honestly? I don't know how much she would have picked up on. Generally speaking, tends to be a hit or miss, I suppose." They shrugged, pulling themself out of the chair and clasping their hands behind their back as they started to pace the room. "New Anchors are one thing. Not every demon senses them, especially not the younger or weaker ones. But a new Realm is...." They made a sound, motioning with a hand to encompass--something.

"New Realm?" Fred repeated, sitting straighter. "Is that what this is about? New Realms are coming and going all the time in the city. It's kind of like background noise at this point unless something about it requires our attention."

Taathiir agreed and nodded once. "True. Mostly. But you missed something."

The man rolled his eyes. "No. You're not changing the topic or the focus of this on to me."

"Lucy warned you, didn't she?" Fred grinned and Taathiir frowned. "Figures. Thought I should try, anyways." Making another sound, they busied their hands with unraveling some of the braids in their hair as they paced. Undoing all but two that draped over their shoulders, Taathiir continued on. "I still have a point, at least." They were running through their thoughts; Lucy and Fred somehow always seemed like the best audience to do such a thing in front of. Strange that Taathiir's first truly personal interactions with either of them involved sharing food; they were suspecting a pattern....

"Most new Realms are one-offs, something to help establish a demon within this world. But then, typically, those one-offs are quickly absorbed into a bigger Realm. The ones that choose not to very rarely survive, getting snuffed out by someone stronger."

"Yeah, that's basically a 101 lesson, sir," Fred said, still enjoying a seat on Taathiir's desk. The demon looked confused, head tilted faintly and brow crinkling. Likely wondering what the point to this was.

Taathiir strode towards him, pulling the demon off their desk and nudging him into the chair designated for guests. "I can just as easily stop talking. Then you'll never get an answer." They watched as a 7-foot-tall man tried to shrink in his seat. Mostly unsuccessful. "Each Realm typically has one dominating type of influence, and some might have secondary natures only because everything is connected to something else in one way or another." They were stalling and, given the look on Fred's face, the other demon knew this, too.

It almost stopped Taathiir completely from rambling on, their fingers now working at the sleeves of their shirt; it was a debate whether to leave them rolled up or pull them back down. They tsk'd, opting to leave the sleeves rolled and returning to the paperweight to fidget with it instead. "A Collector's Realm works a little differently; everyone already believes in death because it is inevitable. Now, whether or not someone believes they can cheat or outrun it? That's different and some demons make use of that to gain influence. The influence Collectors get goes to The Cemetery, though, which then provides us with what we need through our sub-Realm." They stared at the butterflies, tracking each line of ink trapped within the resin. They always enjoyed crows, including their own crow shape (Naya'il sometimes said they had a few vain tendencies), but there was a wild beauty to butterflies and the vast range in their appearances. Like plants and the flowers that attracted such creatures. It was no wonder that, similar to crows, mortals attributed butterflies with human souls.

Setting it down, Taathiir frowned, fingers returning to their hair and beginning to re-braid what had been undone. They rarely knew what to do with their hair otherwise. "This new Anchor... It's a Collector's. Someone I knew and worked with until the moment I Fell."

That got a response from Fred; the demon forgot about his slouching. "So that's why--"

Taathiir nodded, grimacing. "She set an Anchor that reconnected with her sub-Realm. Something that had been dormant for a long time. Naturally, it fed The Cemetery a fresh influx of influence. Almost like dumping a sleeping person into a cold bath to wake them up."

Fred smirked. "That makes sense. You looked like someone slapped you and couldn't place what you'd done to deserve it." His expression fell slightly. "What is it?"

They finished re-braiding their hair, using another tie to bundle the majority together into a loose ponytail that draped down their back. "The root of her influence in this city is a gaggle of mortals that refused to join Auris Domniir." They glared down at the floor. No. It wasn't going to interfere with their organization; mortals were easy enough to pull in regardless of their consent. But being under Naya'il's care... that was--

"Just get your Collector co-worker to join us then. The mortals will follow suit." Fred shrugged as Taathiir looked up at him. "You looked upset, figured I should state what seems obvious. If you and her were on good terms, it'll be easy. Right?"

Nodding slowly, Taathiir wasn't very convinced. With Naya'il no longer remembering who they were, could they be considered 'on good terms' with their former partner? Taathiir thought back to how Atropos's blade glinted under the streetlight, its tip poised at their throat. She had seemed furious and defensive. Though her gaze was confused beneath the steadfastness. Taathiir realized they'd missed that about her, just one aspect out of many things.

"Now, go see the boss. I'm just the messenger, not the source." Fred got up and stretched, arms rising above his head. "You're not getting free of talking to her simply because you spoke with me." He patted Taathiir on the shoulder as he left, leaving the door ajar on his way.

Taathiir rubbed at their face, muttering about lacking manners in door etiquette. Tugging their sleeves back down and buttoning the wrists, they scrounged around their office for the set of files and reports that concerned themselves with Lucy's area of Auris Domniir. Then, grabbing the folder that Fred had passed over, Taathiir vacated their office to head for the elevator. Once the doors closed, they fished in their pocket for a small key, the other hand pressing against the Warning sign that advised for stairs during a fire. It rotated, revealing a keyhole beneath.

When they first used it to head down to Lucy's 'cave', Taathiir had almost expected to hear gears shift or some other clunk of metal. That typical sound frequently noticed in fictional novels (that they absolutely never read to find out what Naya'il loved about such books). Naturally, that didn't occur then and it didn't occur any other time, including this one. The elevator started downward, passing the basement level and traveling for a few minutes longer before finally coming to a stop.

The doors opened up to a large basement with an assortment of equipment ranging from computers to machines that Taathiir couldn't fully recognize. Lucy had tried explaining each one to them at some point, but there were too many parts to keep track of. They did try, honestly, to remember everything that was involved and, occasionally they got some of it right. Only a few, selectively trusted, demons of Auris Domniir knew of this space and assisted in manufacturing or putting together Lucy's projects. One or two looked up at them as Taathiir walked by, weaving around stations and machines until Lucy's workroom was in sight.

"So, Kind-of-Tall-Dark-and-Handsome makes an appearance in our underground domain."

Taathiir rolled his eye, glancing over at Gneni as the individual slid up to their side. It was the best way to hide the fact that they were startled; Gneni didn't have a lifeline Taathiir could sense. The individual's hair was dark green and brown today, falling in waves to frame their face, the strands ending just beneath their ears. "Hello, Gneni. How are you this evening?" Taathiir greeted, the pleasantries merely a stiff formality.

Gneni grinned, draping an arm around Taathiir's shoulders, pale yellow gaze roaming up and down their figure. Light green tinted the edges of the irises as slitted pupils dilated and constricted with changes in light as the pair walked. "I'm feeling fantastic, Tay. How 'bout you? You feeling alright? You look frazzled. Old wounds acting up?"

Taathiir pushed Gneni's arm off, shaking their head. "Enough. Do you have a reason for being here?"

"Nah. Just bored. Figured I'd come check in on things tonight." Their grin faded then. "I also have news, regarding some of the other deities. Figured you and Lu might be interested in knowing about it."

Taathiir's hand lifted as they approached the door to Lucy's workroom, fingers resting on the knob. "This... doesn't seem a good thing?" Gneni shrugged but otherwise gave no further reaction to their inquiry. Stepping into the workroom, Taathiir quickly scanned the space. Lucy wasn't here. They sighed, stepping towards the table at the center of the room and idly dropping the files upon its surface. "Lucy, I'm here," Taathiir called. "So's Gneni."

A pause. Frowning, Taathiir made a sound and then, "I'll tell you what happened tonight with the Anchor, like I shared with Fred when you sent him to my office."

Edited by ValidEmotions

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[[Okay, here the other two are 👀  Also, I'm not going to apologize for this corny turn of events in Jorath's post.]]

 

Jorath

"It's not..." It wasn't the nightmares, either, but Jorath failed to find the voice to say as such. And, even if it were the nightmares, speaking with Xaal would firstly require a third person as interpreter. Which didn't touch on the discomfort of simply what the nightmares were about. He let it drop, focusing on the switch in topic to rambling conversations. "They don't listen because they take slower moments for granted," he said, making a slight sound to emphasize his displeasure.

Vaz's laughter never failed to coax a smile from Jorath; he couldn't easily explain why or how. He recalled Zack's persistence to try fixing the ward after Vaz smudged the chalkwork, claiming the ward as his efforts. Jorath's smile thinned. Hadn't Argia mentioned that Gregory was the expert in runes and sigils, though? As Vaz sat up, his thoughts drifted away from the botched ward and honed in on what his companion had to say about Taathiir. "Do you believe Argia or Taathiir?" he asked after a moment, mulling over the former's response to Vaz's inquiry about whether she knew the other Fallen.

He watched them as they seemed to consider something privately, pushing on to the other matter of speaking further with Taathiir. Initially, Jorath wasn't certain how to answer the extended offer. Vaz appeared to interpret his silence as something else though, growing flustered and quickly sputtering in a sort of backpedaling manner. He stiffened at their words, their hands covering their face. Mercy? Jorath thought about Vaz's wings again and their horns that were the broken fragments of a halo.

"If someone told you that they really like the color green, and then I asked you what their favorite color was, you might tell me green. If another person came to say that they had good evidence it was yellow... would that mean you or the other lied?" Jorath ran fingers through his hair, staring at Vaz as they puzzled over mortal forms 'leaking' so much. It... sent a rather strange twinge of distress through him. Jorath couldn't determine if he should stuff it down or let it take root.

He opted to focus on his words as he leaned towards Vaz, an arm working its way around their shoulders. Once he had a steady hold of the Scribe, Jorath pulled them to himself, not unlike earlier in the station before the humans returned with furniture. "If... If there's one thing I've learned from watching you, Vaz... It's that truth can often be based on perspective, especially when indisputable fact is lacking. I mean," he shrugged one shoulder, carefully pulling Vaz's hand away from their face so that he could tip their chin up and get them to look at him. "You convinced Ditraxol that Argia had the sun with the mere use of a title and I can bet, since you two never rehearsed it, that you don't--or didn't--know the origin of that title at the time. As far as Ditraxol's perspective goes, his version of truth is that Argia has the sun within her sword."

Jorath sucked in a small breath and looked at the railway upon the ground as he continued. "Similarly, you didn't know I had human origins and likely responded to other demons based on that belief. S***, sometimes it seems like you forget I used to be human." He remembered how Vaz reacted back then; it had been, from what Jorath could interpret, a stronger reaction than learning his original name. "You learn new things all the time that challenge what you thought were truths you knew." Idly, his thumb stroked the fabric of Vaz's coat near their shoulder. A brief chuckle escaped him. "Kind of should heed my own words, too, if you keep insisting I'm not a beast despite everyone else's view of me." But he sombered quickly, unconsciously drawing Vaz a little closer. "Take it from a very flawed demon that used to be a flawed human: nothing is perfect, including your deity. If they were, do you really believe they would have ever created angels that could betray them and Fall?"

He sighed. "About crying, the only thing I can say is that the scientists I've met mentioned it was a defensive response to clear out dirt from our eyes. Beyond that... Emotions, and the reactions a human body has because of it, are illogical."

Turning his gaze back to Vaz, he studied their face in the soft light emitting from the orb, wiping tears away from their cheek a moment later. "Perhaps you and I can come to an agreement? I'll work on not viewing myself as a beast if you work on not viewing yourself as undeserving." Jorath paused, then, "Because, otherwise, I'll just take Mag'than with me to face Er'anir on the technical truth I'm not going alone and keeping my promise, no matter if you meant something else."

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Fi wriggle briefly before she moved to nestle at Vaz's neck and jacket collar. "I don't know if she's agreeing with me or something entirely different."

Argia
"Yes," she replied, tentative about where Xaal might be going with such questions. As the woman revealed the matter of demons consuming souls, Argia balked. "That's--" How was she supposed to express the sickening sensation she felt? It churned and mingled with the thought of disbelief. Mortal souls couldn't be consumed, only removed from the body at the time of reaping and turned into energy for the benefit of new souls. That's how it worked. Or were those rules different here, too? She brought a hand up to her mouth, unable to hide the horror etching itself within her thoughts. "Is that how Vaz recovered so quickly?" She thought it had been the secret she'd shared at Xaal's guidance. But, lingering over it, they had only returned to consciousness; they were still battered in appearance and weak enough that summoning the Compendium knocked them out again.

And Zoe wanted privacy with Vaz in the theater.

Be careful of blind trust. Such a conflicting notion when Argia was used to being the one who was distrusted. And she understood the sentiment of caution, but only now was she registering how comfortable she had been in the certainty of what she believed others to be like. She shut her eyes, trying to swallow down the nauseous feeling that was stirring at the realization. Had she failed to prevent the untimely death of a mortal? Was there any way for her to tell, even if Vaz confirmed her fears? The lifelines were too conflicting and, as Argia focused on those that belonged to the humans in the station, yielded no insights to her. They just stretched on, provoking frustration and uncertainty in the absence of guidance from her sovereign.

When Argia opened her eyes again, Xaal had put the first book back into her lap, pointing to a reference line and theorizing about vengeance instead of judgement. She read the entry on Ikaarskrulniir, mostly as it provided her with a reasonable distraction that still provided some amount of productivity. Eventually, she breathed, "If the Order was trying to summon this Demon Lord, how did they end up with me instead?" And why, or how, did they imprint their purposes upon her? Could they have been trying to summon both the Lord and Lady? David mentioned there were differing visions experienced by some members of the Order.

She thought back to the moment she found herself in this world, how the mortals stared at her--Richard and Jen, from the accounts of the slumbering trio. And the beast-like demon that had been lurking behind them. Argia frowned, unease crawling through her back. "Could a demon disrupt a human's summoning?" she asked Xaal, pulling her gaze away from the book. Closing both books, Argia set them aside. "I think speaking with Richard and Jen would provide some answers. But, maybe, we should also speak with Gregory in private. We heard David's side; I wish to hear Gregory's tale as he is the one with a simmering, pointed, anger not unlike Jorath's." She studied the humans for a moment before adding, "Do you know if Ikaarskrulniir might be able to figure out what the Order did to me, being Lord of Vengeance? Surely, it is undeniable that such notions of judgement, justice, and vengeance are connected."

Gaze drifting towards the tunnel, it began settling just how many things were different in this world. There were dots that weren't connecting, however, something Argia couldn't make fit properly. "Realms are not a thing in the world I come from, so I am very ignorant of the matter. Vaz and Jorath explained a little, but I fear I still do not understand as I perhaps should to get by here. Does everyone in this city have a Realm?"

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Vaz

 

A name forgotten, a name replaced.

 

“I am...unsure who to believe at this stage. I shall have to make some further enquires.”

 

Admitted Vaz as they pondered over the oddness of the encounter with Taathiir. They were inclined to believe Argia by virtue of her confusion seeming genuine, yet something at the back of their mind prickled in disagreement when they tried to conclude that Taathiir must have therefore been mistaken. They did seem to know the name of her weapon, now that Vaz had time to think about it. And the fact that both entities were in the business of collecting souls was a difficult coincidence to dismiss entirely.

 

“I am inclined to take Argia’s word on the matter but...at the same time I did not get the sense that Taathiir was trying to deceive us in that regard. I think there is something interesting to unearth there.”

 

The ebb of intrigue over a new mystery to unravel however quickly died in Vaz as their thoughts descended into the topic of their deity and the angels under their rule. They were confused at first over Jorath’s tangent on favourite colours, keeping their hands clasped over their stinging face but listening to him with a wrinkled brow all the same. There was an urge to point out that, if the Scribe of Truth was saying it, their response would generally be forced to indicate that it was only a theory in the first place. But something made the correction fade and die before it managed to roll off of their tongue, prompting instead a watery sound that wavered somewhere between a half-hearted tone of agreement and a sob. The scribe froze up as an arm wrapped around them, unsure of how to respond other than to let themself be pulled into a hold against the other demon’s side. Gentle hands rested on their shaking own and, after a few seconds of consideration, Vaz relented and let Jorath pull them away from the grip they had around their own face. Their own hands hovered, lost in an uncertain pose before them as they found themself starring up at the fellow demon at his own direction and absorbing his words.

 

“I...thought...you might have been something else.”

 

It was said in a soft whisper, less of an actual statement and more Vaz just mouthing out the words as they tried to reign them in at the last second. With Jorath’s line of sight now fixated on the ground, they weren’t certain if he had even noticed their reply. Vaz swallowed and quickly shook their head in a dismissive manner, not wanting to dwell for too long on their reaction to when Jorath had finally revealed his origins. It had...not been a very dignified response. Quite a miserable one, really, that had sent Vaz into a quick retreat so Jorath wouldn’t be witness to the bulk of the breakdown that had occurred shortly afterwards. 

 

And he was right. They did often forget he was once human. But it wasn’t a pure, fire-born demon that instinctively sprang to mind when discussing Jorath’s origins either.

 

Jorath could be shockingly right about a lot of things, really. Vaz had thought for some time that there was an insightfulness to him that most others overlooked, a tendency to write him off as some thick-skulled goon of the knowledge demon they were speaking to. But it was in quieter moments like this, watching him speak and delicately cut through some of their own doubts to remind them that Truth was malleable, that the scribe felt the real Jorath truely made his appearance. When he chuckled Vaz found themself joining in, an honest amusement lingering in the otherwise weary tone they had taken on.

 

“Hm...yes...I suppose we are both at fault there. You keep warning me that I don’t listen well enough, after all.”

 

Glassy eyes continued to stare up at his blurred form, widening with an expression that bordered on scandalised when he suggested that their deity was capable of mistakes. It drew another laugh from Vaz but this time it was a weak and nervous one. Its owner was torn between clinging to the hope that Jorath was right again or acknowledging the agonising, ancient despair over the fact that it had to be impossible for him to be correct.

 

“My deity was Vox Perfectum. The personification of Perfection and Order itself. I...I’m not certain...there was probably another factor. Something beyond their control. Someone else’s failure-“

 

Vaz stopped mid-sentence and their gaze averted, apologetic, as a sense of shame briefly settled in them. After a moment of silence though, they found their concentration starting to drift towards the welcoming sensation of the embrace they now found themself in, cosy and comforting, despite the doubts that Vaz still held over whether they truely deserved it or not. At the back of their mind they heard The Voice rumble out something, a further rebuttal to Jorath’s claims perhaps, but the words were now too distant and distorted to properly make out.

 

“I am sorry. It is...difficult for me to agree with you, knowing all that I know about them. It is something instinctive. A bad habit of my own, perhaps.”

 

Vaz closed their eyes and took a deep breath. They focused on anchoring themself to the shifting, silver letterforms of the infernal aura surrounding them until it blotted out the unwelcome presence from their senses once more.

 

“...I do want you to be right though. And you have a wonderful way of making me almost believe that you are.”

 

The scribe twitched their head back and forth, now grumbling under-breath over how useless a feature crying was, to be tied to emotions in such a way. It was a shallow gripe, but it let them stall on thoughts of their deity enough to absorb both more of what Jorath was saying to them and the hand that was gently drying their face. Vaz squinted in disapproval when he spoke of confronting Er’anir with Mag’than, but the twitch of a smile in the corner of their mouth betrayed that were also, genuinely, impressed with Jorath’s demonstration of how he could easily weave his way around the promise if he wanted to. Jorath was perhaps becoming a bit too comfortable to some degree in that regard. He had a troublesome way of making Vaz lower their guard and invest less energy into making sure they covered for such loopholes.

 

“Crafty b*****d. You’re starting to sound like a knowledge demon my dear. Next thing I know you’ll be pinching titles instead of clients.”

 

Tutted Vaz, but it was said with about the same level of underlying affection as was present whenever they decided to address him as ‘L’antiira’. 

 

“I...suppose the terms are agreeable though. I shall consider them.”

 

Vaz sighed and glanced down at Fi’Faltuun as she moved, her elegant script gracing their thoughts once more. She had been uncharacteristically silent throughout most of this exchange, for reasons that Vaz was not yet privy to.

 

“She is contented. She won’t tell me what exactly the two of you were discussing earlier but she says she is pleased with you-Oh! Yes! Thank you for the reminder my dear.”

 

Vaz held out their hand and a golden swirl of light surrounded it. The pleasant crinkle of parchment in their ears sounded as they took a few breaths to summon a scroll from their office in The Archives. With a flick of their wrist the silver ribbon tied around it unravelled itself and the scroll opened up, revealing a moving series of symbols and illustrations that had been jotted down onto the paper.

 

“So. Erm. While you were resting the quills and I had an idea for something that might make communicating with Fi a bit easier in the short-term...afraid it’s only a small system at the moment but we can always expand on it as needed.”

 

The parchment fluttered forward and the shifting, morphing array of symbols paused. Vaz shifted slightly and nestled further into the other demon’s hold, adjusting themself so that the both of them could comfortably read the contents of the scroll. Fi’Faltuun floated from their shoulder and hovered above it, ready to point at the correct symbol in question as Vaz started to explain a few of them.

 

“We attempted to come up with some easy images to remember so erm...say if you want to ask where I am, Fi can point at this image of a book for ‘library’ or ‘bookstore’, or this cup of tea for ‘cafe’. And I’ve got a few associated words written down in Commonspeak under everything too, so you can try to reverse-engineer things perhaps?  Might take a bit of guess-work at first, but I’m sure you can figure it out without too much trouble.”

 

Vaz then pointed towards the chest-pocket of the borrowed shirt and indicated that the scroll should fit in there, knowing that the majority of their clothes were enchanted with pocket-extending charms. They lowered their arm and drummed their fingers in an idle manner against his chest, now remembering his embarrassment from earlier when he had requested literacy lessons and glancing back up at him to better gauge his reaction.

 

“W-We can try something else though, if you are uncertain about using the scroll. I have other methods in mind.”

 

——

 

Xaal

 

Xaal twiddled her thumbs and glanced away in discomfort, but eventually worked up an answer for Argia.

 

‘Yes. Sometimes I can see it in auras before they are all used up. Little hints of souls.’

 

Vaz was an easy one to recognise when they had fed, given how familiar she was with their inky, golden-flecked aura. Theirs was merely a case of spying a splash of another colour among the flecks. Jorath by contrast, as a new face, was harder to decipher. But he had confirmed during the Vow of Truth that he had feasted, had he not? Xaal rubbed at the back of her neck and frowned, unsure whether her following words were not an attempt to comfort Argia or herself at this point.

 

‘Souls signed away to Vaz go to The Archives. That is Vaz’s sub-realm. I don’t know what happens to them there. That is a Vaz question.’

 

Xaal was certain Vaz would tell her what happened to said souls if she asked them directly, but it was a topic that she preferred to steer clear of as much as possible. Vaz punished the wicked. Xaal saved the good. That was all she needed, or wanted, to know about the souls she had seen lingering in The Archives since Vaz became a demon. She forced herself to focus instead on the contents of the book she had given to Argia, shrugging in response to both her first question regarding the Lord of Vengeance and the second as to whether a demon could have somehow corrupted things. It certainly seemed like the sort of thing a demon could do.

 

‘I don’t know. Maybe you want revenge for something? But can’t remember what it is. He could help...Vaz knows how to talk to him. But I think it is better to ask Richard or Jen or Gregory first.’

 

She rubbed at the back of her neck again and chewed at her lip. Ikaarskrulniir probably would be able to help. More-so than Gregory, at any rate, if his rash reaction to the subject of demons was any indication. But even outside of his duties, something about summoning the demon lord in question just felt like a bad omen hanging over her.

 

‘I think all angels and demons have realms? Other beings too? They are kind of like worlds but not. Some are sub-realms, personal spaces in realm. My sub-realm is The Gallery, but it is the same realm as The Archives.’

 

Golden eyes shifted towards the tunnel, following Argia’s line of sight. Xaal found herself wondering how long the two had been gone for, and there was a growing restlessness over why the duo had yet to return from its depths. Vaz had demonstrated that they trusted Jorath on at least some level, but Xaal still had little reason to follow their example at this rate. Especially in light of the man’s violent outbursts and the suspicion that he was gaining something personal out of pretending to be a friend of Vaz’s.

 

‘Think we should make sure Jorath is calm. Humans look asleep. Mag’than looks too sick to get up.’

 

Xaal raised her hand in thought, paused, then emitted a soft glow of holy energy from her hand as she signed the word for ‘rose flower’. As she did the illustration of a golden rose etched itself onto the back of one of her hands, and she sensed her own aura snuff itself out like a candle. 

 

‘Shroud. If Jorath is being a problem, harder for him to see us.’

 

She held out the glowing hand towards Argia to transfer the shroud to her as well, then beckoned for the harbinger to follow her into the tunnel with the other hand.

 

——

 

Lucy

 

Contrary to popular belief, Lucy adored humans. It was hard not to, really, when you watched them stumble about so much in their tiny, fleeting lives. They were cute. Like dumb, hairless kittens. Easy to trick, too. All you had to do was dangle something shiny in front of them and they’d pounce on it without question.

 

Two beings stood inside one of the many offices of Auris Domniir. One was a human, and the other was a demon as old as humanity itself, a being of both a mind and a power that was entirely unfathomable to the other presence in the room. The demon had, for the convenience of mortal minds, taken on the form a young woman decked out in an elaborate Victorian-style of gown today. She was currently leaning against the wall and regarding the human with a neutral expression that suggested she was either bored or mildly disappointed. A delicate hand idly toyed with a curl of her own mahogany hair, and eventually she tilted her head towards the human with a polite ‘ahem’ to prompt them into speaking. The human, a squat man in his late 30s, was shaking and looked about ready to throw up.

 

“...Very well. I’ll start.”

 

Groaned the woman, her eyes rolling to the ceiling as she eased herself off of the wall and crossed her arms behind her back. She began to pace around the shivering fellow, her nose wrinkling at the sight of the sweat beads on his forehead but otherwise not commenting on the clear state of stress he was in.

 

“Sweetie. Darling. Petal. I’m awfully sorry to have to be the one to do this but you did get caught red-handed now, didn’t you?”

 

Sighed the woman, clicking her fingers and summoning the stolen object in question into her hands. Between her thumb and forefinger she held one of Auris Domniir’s power orbs. She made a show of slowly turning to face it and tutting at it, her green eyes filling with sorrow as she rolled them back towards the would-be thief she had been watching since he entered the building.

 

“Oh, but, I suppose it’s all rather ironic for me of all people to lecture you on the dangers of temptations now, isn’t it? Theft is such an easy vice to fall victim to.”

 

Another hefty sigh issued from the woman, who arched back and rested the back of her hand against her forehead as though the whole conversation was making her feel faint. She let silence hang in the air for a few moments, drawing out the tension as much as she could, before she opened her eyes again and shifted into a less dramatic stance of one hand on her hip and the other toying with the orb in front of her.

 

“Tell you what. I can see you’re a good man. I can tell you’re just looking for a way to bring a little light and warmth back into your world after what happened to your sun. Why don’t I just let you keep that one and you can dash off before the Punishers catch wind that you’re here? I’ve got hundreds of them after all.”

 

“Wh-what? Really?”

 

The man finally stuttered out, his first proper words she had heard from her. She wasn’t going to count the screech of fear he had emitted when she had materialised behind him a few minutes ago. The woman winked, allowing a smile that showed a little too many teeth to grace her features.

 

“Of course! I’m not so fond of the whole lying thing darling, gotten me into a spot of trouble with a few people in the past. But don’t worry about it. Just keep in mind that you owe your dear friend Lucy a huge favour one day now, hm? Now go run along and do some...horse-coach racing or internet-ing...or...whatever it is you humans are into these days.”

 

She nodded towards the door and the man scrambled away through it, barely leaving time for himself to nod in agreement and stutter out his thanks for such a merciful result. Lucy beamed as she heard him clattering down the hallway towards the entrance of the building once more. She waited a few minutes before she glanced down at the desk, summoning another glowing orb to her hand with a click of her fingers. She placed it in the centre of the desk, making sure to arrange the objects around it so that it was clearly visible from the window.

 

That was the fifth one this month.

 

She realised with a giggle, fishing out her phone to brag about it in the group chat she had set up for her many, many contacts within the organisation. Her celebration was put on pause however when she noticed a new message had come through from Fred in the few minutes she had placed her phone on silent mode.

 

‘Taathiir’s back. Seems okay. Gonna see if I can get any info out of them and then send them over to your workbench.’

 

Lucy’s eyes bulged, a sigh of relief that her most trusted business partner was alright joining the huff of frustration that they hadn’t had the decency to come straight to her and explain what was going on. Wasting no more time she rose her arms and summoned a ring of emerald flames to engulf her, watching as the backdrop of her office faded away and was replaced with the more dimly-lit surroundings of her workspace. 

 

Taathiir had arrived before her, alongside of Gneni making a surprise, but none-the-less delightful appearance as well. Lucy nodded briefly in acknowledgement and greeted the deity with a dazzling smile, before she crossed her arms over her chest and weaved herself around her workbench so that she could stand before the duo. She huffed again, a pout threatening to rest in her features as she glared up at Taathiir.

 

“I thought you were in trouble you dolt. I’ve had every Seeker searching for you for like the last hour! I sent you like a hundred texts!”

 

As if to prove her last statement the woman rummaged around in the pockets of her dress and pulled out her smartphone, a sleek contraption made of rose-gold that may have looked professional if not for the array of tacky, rainbow-themed stickers and inspirational quotes adorning its back. She flipped it over in her hands and then held it out at a dramatic angle in front of her, showing the pair of them the tail-end of the stream-of-conscious messages that had been sent to a contact simply titled ‘Buttercup <3’ in the header.

 

“Wait. Hold on. Got to make an edit.”

 

Grumbled Lucy, tapping away at the screen a few times before revealing its contents once more. Said contact was now labelled as ‘Buttface </3’ in the header. A snicker sounded from the green and brown-haired being beside them. Gneni would never regret introducing the woman to the concept of emoticons. Their current mission was convincing her that they were considered by the mortals to be very serious and professional these days, and seeing how much official paperwork they could taint with the concept.

 

“Alright. Now you better give me a damn good explanation as to where you ran off to just now or I’m making this one your official nameplate for the next five years.”

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Argia
"Revenge will get us nowhere, Naya'il."

Argia hesitated, blinking as the flicker of a memory came and went. "I... suppose that could be possible..." Her gaze drifted to the ground, a sliver of shock mingling with the whisper of pained frustration. She shook her head, clearing away the mixed emotions and taking in Xaal's explanation of Realms and sub-Realms. It all seemed straightforward enough, but then--"How do the Realms interact with this world, then? And what exactly is the purpose for them?"

She remembered Jorath stated Realms had to do with power. And Vaz mentioned planes... Alright. So it didn't appear as straightforward as she initially thought. Resting her chin within her hand, Argia sighed. There were so many rules to this place, she didn't really know what questions to start asking. It started to feel overwhelming again as she thought about it. So, she chose to try focusing on one thing at a time instead. For now, she could learn as she went about Realms and concern herself with the Demon Lord a bit later.

The more pressing matter was Vaz and Jorath's absence, followed by a missing journal. When Xaal inquired about checking in on the two demons, pointing out the incapacitated states of the other four, Argia stood and idly dusted the skirt of her dress. "I suppose it is a reasonable course of action." She watched while the woman's hand began to glow, an illuminated rose imprinting on her skin. There was an odd sensation through her fingers when she took Xaal's hand, curious as it spread up her arm a moment later. A shroud?

That explained Xaal's lifeline vanishing from notice. Useful, perhaps. Argia didn't know if she should smile at the discovery or frown about the fact they were planning to sneak up on individuals who were meant to be allies. Regardless, she followed Xaal's lead without protest. Though, despite the glow from the woman's hand, it almost felt like the darkness of the tunnel grew deeper and blanketed them both. Maybe that was the work of the shroud.

Gradually, she noticed another pinprick of light ahead, and it took Argia some time to sort out that it was the orb from Zoe. She could make out the vague shapes sitting on the ground. When they were near enough for her to tell which shape was Vaz and which one was Jorath, the tip of her boot connected with a rock that was then sent skidding.
---
Jorath
"It's okay," Jorath said, perhaps a bit more quietly than he intended. "Don't need to apologize for that. I... actually understand the impulse." He had to think about it, but he realized he did know where it came from. He'd done much the same for Er'anir, waving away or excusing anything that--Shoving the thoughts away as he caught Vaz's glare, Jorath found himself laughing in response. His body shook while the tension seemed to break away, a wide grin splitting his features. "Yes, well, I happen to know a very good teacher." Jorath watched their expression start to shift as Vaz sighed. At least they were willing to mull things over.

Learning that Fi wasn't saying much to Vaz about what transpired before the Scribe arrived was startling. His gaze snapped to the quill as she hovered. Jorath felt... relieved? Confused and conflicted, for sure. He was still trying to process the discovery that the quills didn't have to say anything to Vaz when golden light sparked at the edge of his vision, drawing Jorath's attention. Parchment materialized into Vaz's possession, unrolling as silver thread peeled itself away. "I--"

To say he was caught off guard, stupefied by the gesture, was an understatement. Jorath barely registered Vaz repositioning themself against him, fur from their coat's collar briefly tickling the side of his neck. Their voice filled his ear as they explained the purpose of the scroll, Fi'Faltuun indicating the images that Vaz used as examples. He tracked the script under each that Vaz made mention of, tracing the familiarly strange strokes of ink. There were a few letters he could name, and half of a word here or there that he could probably sound out. But his knowledge of the material stopped there.

His fingers ghosted across the parchment, almost fearful that it might dissolve at the contact. "Vaz, this is--" His voice died when the Scribe indicated the breast pocket on his shirt, implying a good spot for the scroll. Jorath turned his head to look at them.

And promptly discovered just how close they actually were.

Strangely, it made him keenly aware of how warm he suddenly felt. Was Vaz aware of the proximity? Did his pulse quicken slightly as their hand lingered upon his chest? Vaguely, the tangle that his thoughts were becoming recalled the last time Vaz tapped his chest after escaping Takut and Er'anir. There was no cold clinging to his skin this time. Only the... foreign, but pleasant, wash of heat. They were saying something, but Jorath only managed to register a fraction of it. Something about methods? "We can use whatever method you want; I'm willing to--"

Wait. What?

The words were softer than they should have been, set free by loosened lips taking advantage of whatever confused his thoughts. Jorath's eyes widened a fraction and he jerked his gaze away from Vaz's amber eyes and how they reflected light from the orb, stilling his tongue so that no further words could escape before he had the chance to sort and filter them. His nerves started jumping as he started sputtering. What the f***, Jay? Where'd that come from? "I mean--That was--I like the scroll and I'll gladly give it a try," he finally managed, the words continuing to rush. The edges of his ears grew hot and it was traveling into his cheeks. S***, stop that. "I like the scroll," he said again, slowing his words and focusing on the sporadic pace of his heart until it likewise remembered its normal rhythm. "If it doesn't work out, I'm happy to try something else. Thank you. You're--" Jorath lightly grasped Vaz's hand, easing it away from his chest. But not before letting it linger a moment longer. It was really warm here. "It--It's wonderful."

He fell silent, taking time to carefully roll the scroll back up and tie it off. Jorath stared at the breast pocket of his shirt, not quite sure of how to feel as he was able to slip an entire piece of parchment in. No awkward bumps were left behind. A significant difference from stuffing the pockets of his jeans earlier. Running fingers through his hair, he realized he should maybe remove his arm from around Vaz, but some twinge of resistance thought otherwise. "How are y--"

The click-clack of a skipped rock echoed and Jorath startled, rising into a crouch before the sound stopped. He searched both ends of the tunnel, his eyes struggling to see anything in the direction of the old station. Squinting as he stood completely, his gaze kept pushing to the walls or to Vaz. But some sense made his hackles rise. What was that?

Squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, he grumbled. An overreaction? Maybe he really was still too tired? It was probably just a rat scurrying away.

An aura flickered into his awareness though. Far too close and too abruptly. His eyes opened as he scowled, hurrying to keep the anxiety of another Takut- or Er'anir-appearance at bay. When the flicker happened again, he lunged for the source. However, they grabbed him instead of the other way around, a hand clamping down on his wrist while a second snatched his shoulder. The individual shoved him towards the wall, albeit not enough to do more than make him stumble, but it was enough to disrupt the shroud. Argia was already questioning him when Jorath finally caught on. She was frowning at him.

He returned the expression, straightening himself out; shirt included. "What the f***? What was that for?"

"You came at me," was all Argia responded with.

Rubbing a hand down his face, Jorath pointed at her, then at Xaal. "Don't pull that s***. We just went through a group of hostile demons who can shroud themselves."

Argia's expression changed, something that looked like alarm or similar. "I'm--" She shook her head. "Right. I didn't consider that."

He pulled his hand back, glancing in Vaz's direction just before he deflated. "It's not your fault." Leaning against the wall behind him, Jorath scuffed his shoe against the rocks, dislodging some from their resting places. "Look... about earlier. I'm sorry. I--"

She lifted a hand, a vague smile entering her features. Her eyes seemed sad, however. "Why don't we return to the station first?"

"Is that... influence haze still there?"

"Faintly? Though, it is fading. Would it be preferable to continue waiting here?"

Jorath rubbed at the back of his neck, nails briefly passing over his skin as his fingers curled. "I--I should be alright with the warning. And I do want to ask, if you're willing, to hear another story?"

Argia blinked, her smile brightening a moment after. "Of course."
---
Taathiir
Flair was part of her forte. Lucy arrived shortly in a curtain of emerald fire, lingering flames dancing along the hem of her dress for a moment before snuffing out. She was glaring up at Taathiir, lips curling as they usually did when she was holding back a pout. "I responded to one of those," was all they said about the text messages, no matter that the reply had been vague at best. They didn't comment about the Seekers.

Lucy's phone came into sight and they studied the contact name. Last month, Taathiir had been listed as "Sweetpea". Before that, it was "Blackberry", then "Bird-brain" when they'd done something to irritate her (which Taathiir still hadn't pieced together what they did to deserve her ire that day). She switched it to "buttface" and a broken heart icon in the next beat. That they were aware of how serious Lucy was and would follow through on her threat about the nameplate made Taathiir grimace. A sigh broke through their lips.

As they ignored Gneni's snickering, Taathiir folded their arms across their chest, tapping a foot once, twice, then thrice. "I wasn't in trouble. Don't know how much Fred told you about my leaving." How to put this together when their emotions and thoughts were still knotted and not completely identified? Distress cut into their expression for a brief flicker before retreating back into hiding. "The Cemetery was energized when a new Anchor took root in the city; a Collector's sub-Realm reawakened. I went to confirm who it was..."

They shifted their arms, starting to press the thumb of one hand into the palm of the other and rub where callouses used to be. Some days, they believed they could still feel the roughened patches of skin. Their gaze drifted away from Lucy, coming across Gneni and noticing the deity's eager expression, eyes batting as the individual leaned forward on the table to rest their chin in their hands. Taathiir frowned, hands lowering to their sides as they returned attention back to Lucy. "My former partner, Naya'il, is in the city. I haven't--" Lucy knew; they had eventually shared the events of their Fall with the woman and how, since then, they couldn't find Naya'il. But, whether or not Lucy was aware of Taathiir beginning to wonder if their partner was truly dead in the last few decades...?

Shaking their head, Taathiir started to motion dismissively with their hand. At the end of the gesture, it reached up to the brown feather in their hair, gently touching. "I think Kirit and Meztli altered her memory of me; she didn't recognize me and she's going by 'Argia', but she unmistakably still has my sword. She's--curiously, yet not surprisingly--acquaintances with Vazithrazuul and Jorath. However, she is patron to a group of mortals that have refused Auris Domniir's invitation. Could prove an interesting situation."

"When you say 'partner'," Gneni started, finding a chair to recline in, kicking their feet up onto the edge of the table now. "Do you mean in a purely professional manner or something more spicy?" Gneni's tone shifted to be more drawn out and fluctuating in pitch at 'spicy'.

Taathiir made a sound, mouth working to respond but words failing to grace the air for several, floundering, moments. "That--That is not your business, Gneni!" they finally managed.

The deity began snickering again, mischief narrowing their gaze and twitching their lips into a knowing smirk. "So, the 'spicy' kind, then. Are we talking a mild sort of spice or the flaming hot salsa type? C'mon, I want to know; you're always so stiff."

Clamping their mouth shut, Taathiir glared at the deity until they had a better grapple of how to respond. Gneni wasn't going to stop pressing. "Mild... Naya'il never had any interest or desire for... more physical things. And, frankly, neither did I."

"Oh, I see. More the romantic sort than the steamy sort," Gneni hummed, grinning. "Still counts and still hot," they announced. "But you said 'did'. Does this mean you changed your m--"

"No. Now, are you quite done?" Taathiir muttered, glancing to Lucy to see if she might help or if she were equally enjoying the spot of gossip. It was always a 50/50 with her since she was much more invested in learning 'juicy details' (as she once put it) about others than Taathiir. It was no wonder she liked Gneni so much.

"For now," Gneni purred. "Thank you for indulging me, Tay."

Again, Taathiir gave a dismissive wave. "At any rate," they went on, returning to the topic before their romantic connection was divulged. "Vaz seems willing to speak with us directly and intends to extend the opportunity to Jorath." They realized they left the Scribe's business card in their coat. "The two will discuss what time works best for them and inform me."

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Xaal

 

Xaal carefully watched her expression as Argia considered her theory, a tinge of sadness visible as she sensed more faded colours briefly drift through her aura. Something was being repressed, she was certain of it. Her head tilted with curiosity as the wisps of colour solidified, forming more feather-like streaks of brown and black, before they faded into the muted haze once more. She sighed internally, but refrained from trying to keep Argia’s focus on her muddied history in favour of explaining the realms.

 

‘They are like...places? Spots of influence I think? Some are personal. Some are shared.’

 

Xaal wrinkled her nose and wrung her hands in the air for a second, briefly demonstrating that she wasn’t sure how to properly address the question of how the Realms interacted with this world and others. It was all a rather complex process, unique to each Realm and the people that were connected to them. At least the question for the purpose of Realms was a slightly easier one for her to articulate, even if the answer was a bit of a long-winded one.

 

‘Mine is a place that turns thoughts and memories into pictures. I use it to understand other people better. Sometimes I help other people remember. Or forget. But it is also a home. Storage and safe territory.’

 

Xaal continued with the explanation as she strolled further into the tunnel, hoping that the glow from her hand would illuminate her enough to be understood. She was unsure if Argia’s eyes could adjust to the dark as easily as her own.

 

‘Realms have different purposes for different people. Collectors I think use their realm for visiting or moving souls. Maybe that is what your realm does? Vaz is similar, but not. It is like a library, it stores many books and scrolls for learning. Also for work. There is an office. Jorath is...I am not sure. Power? Maybe?’

 

After some pacing, her owl-like eyes easily spotted the two demons huddled together in the distance. For a brief moment she faltered in her stride, not expecting the demonic duo to be quite so close. It was a stark contrast from the volatile behaviour she had seen from Jorath up to now. He seemed borderline pleasant, even. She watched as Vaz levitated a scroll between them, catching snippets of the tone to their voice that suggested Vaz was proudly showing off some new incantation they had crafted or ancient mystery they had unearthed. Xaal slowly shifted her gaze to Argia and flickered her head towards the two, questioning her opinion on the sight.

 

‘Your realms are connected? Yes? Emotions? Do you sense anything worrying?’

 

It was then that the clatter of a rock against concrete suddenly rang through her ears. Xaal froze on the spot, her conversation pausing as she went wide-eyed and hovered the glowing hand over Argia’s form once more. S***. She didn’t often share her shrouding abilities with others, it was easy to forget that it was far better at concealing people from sight rather than sound. Golden eyes squinted in mild annoyance in Argia’s general direction, but it was followed by placing a finger to her lips and indicating for her to stand still. She then switched her attention back to the shroud, focusing more of her energy into maintaining it.

 

 

Vaz

 

When Jorath laughed Vaz felt a beaming grin threatening to spread across their face, and the desire to yield to it only increased when he implied that they were an even more conniving individual to have learnt from. Vaz held onto the half-hearted scowl until they were able to ride out the feeling, trying to maintain at least some level of underlying seriousness in fear that Jorath might otherwise still run with such a terrible idea of facing Er’anir with nothing but a smart-mouthed seeker for company.

 

As his attention shifted towards the scroll that Vaz had conjured up and given brief instructions over, the scribe stayed silent at first. Jorath’s initial reaction was a puzzling one, that made it difficult for Vaz to tell whether or not he was enamoured with the idea. Beneath their fingertips they could feel the beating of his heart grow quicker, a response that Vaz had learnt generally meant one of panic or stress in humans. They were about to ask him what was wrong when he answered that any method was fine. Which was...confusing, still. Possibly a lie, too, given that the statement only seemed to increase his heart rate some more.

 

“Ah...Good? Yes. Erm. Good. As long as you’re happy my dear, I’m sure we’ll find something that works.”

 

Jorath’s hand shifted onto Vaz’s own, and they felt a small twinge of regret as they realised that the location of it might have been the cause of the conflicting signals. Quickly they let him ease the offending limb away, instead withdrawing it once freed from his grasp and tucking the hand away into the folds of their own coat instead.

 

“Right. Um. Sorry I just-“

 

“It’s wonderful.”

 

Vaz paused, still a bit baffled, but decided eventually that another smile was appropriate. It was perhaps a more bashful one than their usual underlying smugness whenever they had an excuse to pride themself on their work. Vaz wasn’t really sure why. But they were pleased that they had gifted him something actually useful this time, and the praise for their work helped to alleviate some of the guilt that still lingered at the back of their mind for not picking up on his limitations much earlier.

 

“Thank you. I know it’s no substitute for proper lessons still, but I encourage you to spend a bit of time looking over it and chatting to Fi each day. You may find that you’ll start to absorb some letter patterns and keywords without even realising it if you do, my dear.”

 

Vaz chatted away some more as Jorath pocketed the scroll, distracted by an impromptu explanation of how the quills would be able to update it as needed when a faint noise caught their attention. The scribe perked up at the sound and glanced in its direction, more startled by Jorath’s movement than the sound of a rock clattering on the ground. As the fellow demon grew anxious Vaz edged away and grabbed the Auris Domniir orb, a wary expression crossing their features as they snuffed out its light and squinted through the darkness. Further ahead they could see Argia and Xaal approaching, illuminated by a faint glow from the latter’s hand. Vaz twitched their head back towards Jorath as they started to ease back onto their feet, unsure of what to make of the fact he seemed to be glancing rapidly around at either Vaz or the walls. Vaz tended to put more faith in Jorath’s skills as a hunter than their own, dulled senses. Had he picked up on something in the air that the scribe hadn’t?

 

Xaal was trying to signal something to them, somewhat encumbered by the fact that she was trying to keep one hand hovering over Argia as she communicated with them. She was gesturing towards Jorath with a look of distaste, making what might have been an inquiry on whether he was behaving like a gentlemen or not. Vaz quirked an eyebrow, about to point out that they were just about to start a charming little discussion on the history of the written word when they spotted the etching of a rose upon her hand. The realisation of what was bugging Jorath hit them a second too late, and they yelped in alarm as Jorath suddenly surged forward to make a grab for Argia. Eyes bulged as Argia took advantage of her concealed status and somehow managed to pin Jorath to the wall without injury to either of them, but the scribe still emitted a flustered, spluttering sort of sound over their actions.

 

“A shroud Xaal? I hardly think that’s necessary!”

 

Vaz finally lectured, once they had found their voice again. Xaal scowled in reply, dousing the glow from her hand and removing the effects of the shroud from the both of them.

 

‘I wanted to be prepared. Incase he was violent.’

 

“My dear, please, I neither fear Jorath nor find myself defenceless against him-“

 

‘I saw you get knocked out by a novice Seeker.’

 

“I was not knocked out by the Seeker, I was rendered temporarily incapacitated because I had to perform two banishments in a row with a gaping hole in my abdomen!”

 

Xaal rolled her eyes and then made a rude gesture, one that she had taught Vaz the meaning of in recent years. They huffed in reply. Briefly Vaz then closed their eyes and massaged the tips of their fingers into the sides of their head, mouthing something that was unintelligible to Xaal but looked remarkably like they were mumbling a request for someone to shut up under the breath.

 

‘I was just worried about you-‘

 

“Y-yes. I know, my dear. I know. My apologies. But I really must insist that your worries are unfounded. Jorath is a near and dear associate of mine, far more in the business of saving my life than threatening it.”

 

Vaz shook their head and glanced over at Jorath and Argia, catching the tail-end of their conversation. Their eyes flickered between the two for a moment, the tension in their shoulders easing when it occurred to them that neither seemed to be harbouring a grudge towards the other at this stage.

 

“...Let us just return to the fire, yes? I imagine Mag’than’s had some time to think about her behaviour by now. I should probably go and reverse the effects of the ikaar.”

 

Announced the scribe, waving everyone forward. Xaal decided to oblige without protest, merely swivelling on her heel and reigniting her hand in a wreath of golden light to stave off the darkness surrounding them.

 

“Does this mean you are prepared to potentially get some sleep, L’antiira?  Do you require anything to make things more comfortable?”

 

Inquired Vaz in a softer tone as the group started to wander back towards the other side of the tunnel, shifting their attention to the bits and pieces they had heard between him and Argia. In an almost absent-minded manner they found themself holding out their arm to him once more as they walked, perhaps in the hopes that it would somehow bring him a sense of reassurance about the idea. They wished they knew exactly what it was that made him so resistant to something he still needed in life, but they also knew that sometimes the best way to get an answer from Jorath was not to push him too much into handing it over. At any rate, Vaz was of the opinion that sleep would do him some good, and so they tried to stay encouraging over the risk that another story might induce it.

 

“It’s a marvellous ability of yours, Argia. Seems to be quite a potent one too. I must confess I am surprised though that you use it infrequently enough to forget it’s affects...you have a rather learned flair to your storytelling. You should perform it more often.”

 

 

Lucy

 

The newly-arrived demon huffed in a dismissive manner, retracting the phone to scroll upwards a few dozen sections until she was able to re-read Taathiir’s one, ambiguous message. She flipped it back around and tapped a pastel-painted nail against a message she had sent a few more text boxes below it, demonstrating that she had asked a moment later if they needed help and that she was sending it if she didn’t hear from them soon.

 

“I tried to send help. Honestly.”

 

The anger had softened to a tone that was more mild irritation, with perhaps just a flicker of genuine concern weaving into her words as she started to comprehend how frazzled Taathiir looked under the surface. Most people she had met regarded the Collector as a rather detached individual, difficult to read and - well, Lucy couldn’t really argue with that assessment. But she liked to think that she had gotten pretty good at picking up on some of their subtle hints at emotions and mindsets over the years, and it was clear to her that they were in some sort of distress.

 

“My former partner, Naya'il, is in the city. I haven't—“

 

Lucy’s eyes grew wide, the pupils slitting in a manner reminiscent of the snake-eyed Gneni lingering beside them. Briefly they flickered to the brown feather that seemed to have a permanent residence in Taathiir’s hair, recalling the stories that Taathiir had told her about its former owner.

 

“I-that...Naya’il? Really? I thought...”

 

The woman bit at her lip and darted her eyes rapidly between Taathiir and a non-specific spot on the wall beside her. She was unaware of Taathiir’s waning hope in their former partner still being alive. But she had already come to her own conclusion that Naya’il had been dead for quite some time now, she had just never had the heart to break it to them. She tilted her head and pursed her lips in thought, briefly focusing in on the confirmation that Vazithrazuul was indeed skulking around the city somewhere while her mind had time to better process the rest of what Taathiir was saying. The knowledge that they were still in contact with the goofy-looking chained one was a nice bonus too, given the unexpected trouble that her seekers had apparently been going though in trying to track down that particular demon. After their disastrous attempts to locate Taathiir just now Lucy was starting to suspect she needed to fire a few of them.

 

“Unsurprising...? Oh! I guess she’d be a Fallen now right? Birds of a feather ‘n all. But she doesn’t remember you? Like at all?”

 

Lucy blinked rapidly and shook her head, defying the notion that Naya’il’s memories could have been altered that drastically, even though she didn’t have the best insight into what Kirit and Meztli were capable of. Surely there was some residue recognition at least? Unless Taathiir was mistaken but- no. No surely they were level-headed enough not to jump to such conclusions. The demon rubbed at her face and frowned, torn between focusing more on this huge revelation and the hint that Taathiir didn’t want to dwell on it right now.

 

Gneni started to pry into the nature of the relationship between the two, and Lucy made a small, slightly squeaky noise that was a failed attempt at downplaying her interest in the answer. Were it under less bizarre circumstances she’d be right alongside of Gneni, but even Lucy understood to some degree that it was probably something to harass Taathiir about after they’d had some time to mull over their new discover.

 

“But you were both in love still? Yes?”

 

Lucy couldn’t help but blurt out at least one question though, a hand drifting to her heart in a show of sympathy for the fallen being. She quickly lifted her hand and waved away the question as an afterthought, giving Taathiir a brief chance to dismiss the inquiry in favour of rolling forward with her plan to reunite the two of them regardless,

 

“Well. That’s great! Then. Right? Just ask Ol’ Scribbles to bring Naya’il to the meeting and you can like talk to her properly and stuff. Maybe she was just in shock seeing you again? And then while we’re at it we’ll just invite them to Auris Domniir and get her to convince the humans to join too! She’d fit right in!”

 

Lucy bounced on the balls of her heels, before surging forward to reach up and thump both of her hands into Taathiir’s shoulders. She gave them a squeeze, a look of empathy flickering into her eyes as her enthusiasm struggled to stay consistent.

 

“And, hey, look, even if they did something to her memories she’s still alive? Right? You can make new ones. And she’s figured out how to access The Cemetery again? Trust me Buttercup, that’s gotta be a good omen of some kind.”

 

She patted them a few times at the shoulder, before switching her attention to the serpent-like individual beside them.

 

“Any particular reason you’re here Noodles? Or did you just come all the way down here to see lil’ old me?”

Edited by Lycanious

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"So, that is why you proposed going to The Gallery." When Xaal explained about her Realm and what she could do, Argia was both intrigued and hesitant. Why, though, she couldn't understand. Settling the matter of what she remembered and proving she hadn't forgotten anything significant should have felt like an unnecessary but indulgent course of action. Mulling over the description of a Collector's Realm, she hummed faintly. "Could there be gardens in theirs?" she asked, almost idly.

"Admittedly, I'm not fully certain why I stopped storytelling," Argia replied when Vaz addressed her about her stories. She tried to think over when she had ceased doing so, strangely struggling to find the right memory. After a moment, "I think it had to do with someone getting harmed." Making a dismissive gesture, she set the concern aside. "But, thank you. If I can find a proper time, I shall keep it in mind." She grinned. "Do you wish to be a repeat listener?"

Jorath shifted his gaze to Vaz's arm, staring at the proffered limb. He missed most of Vaz's questions, realizing only then that he had been distracted by fragmented and tangled thoughts. They were waiting for him, the hope for a response glimpsed in their features. He didn't know how to answer an unknown question. Fi'Faltuun drifted into his view, the gifted scroll pulling itself free of his pocket and unraveling anew. Upon it, the images shifted until a bed became visible and she pointed at it before pointing at him and then swaying side to side. Was she shrugging? What was the connection between a bed and himself? "Oh, um..." Was he going to sleep? "Sleep, right. I'm... not sure?" It sounded weak, even to his own ears.

Argia had looked happy when he asked her for a story, but since doing so, a sliver of doubt had started working its way through. A knot of discomfort was forming and only growing as he started second guessing. "I should be fine; I have a warning so, I can prepare. Right?" Going to sleep wasn't the issue. Breathe. Just breathe and think. It's only a story. Jorath's fingers brushed Vaz's sleeve, as if itching to find something to ground himself, clutching at the fabric as his gaze focused ahead. How close was the station? But she could--

"Jorath? Are you alright?"

Blinking, he faltered when he registered that Argia was near his side. Then he recalled: bridge. "You're learning fast," he said, stuffing down a self-directed insult as he forced a smile. "Though, uh, you sure that's from me and not--not one of my followers?"

It was a distraction, but still a deflection. And she spotted it, head tilting as she regarded him. "I suppose... it could be from a human," was all she said before easing away from him. Argia still watched and listened, however, even as he seemed to duck his head and release Vaz's sleeve in favor of properly looping his arm with theirs. His blooming anxiety made the connected tethers waver and sprout thorns.

Focusing on it threatened to give her a headache, however, and Argia had to pull her senses back from it. She glanced at Xaal, somewhat appreciative of the insight when Xaal inquired if she sensed anything worrying from Jorath. To the woman, she signed: anxious. She just didn't know what about.

"Tell me," Jorath said to Vaz. "What did you do to Maggie after I left?" Whatever it was that required Vaz to reverse its effects, she must have really crossed a line. With the route their mouth had been running, it wasn't a difficult thing to imagine. "M-Maybe we should use the time to sort out how we're getting Kaa'Taakiir and Fi's journal back, instead of..."

Jorath let go of Vaz's arm, moving to scratch at his own. Finally, he realized what Vaz had asked him that Fi helped to partially fill in. Comfort. He didn't know what would make him feel comfortable. Sure as f*** it wasn't having someone else force him into unconsciousness. He shoved both hands into his pockets to make himself stop scratching, a shallowness starting to disturb his breathing. "I can deal with the nightmares; those aren't the issue. I can close my eyes and listen to s*** around me; that's not an issue. It's--"

The sight of Vaz at their desk, Fi in their fingers and poised above parchment.

In the moment, he hadn't identified what it stirred beyond the flicker of relief that he was still on the lounge in the Scribe's Realm and not somewhere else. There was an apology stirring as Jorath remembered how startled Vaz had been. But, there had been... comfort? Of a very small degree, overwhelmed by the panic of Er'anir likely getting Illstrund from Mag'than.

"It's... waking up that's the problem," he breathed. "The--The not knowing what will happen while I'm unconscious. The discovery that everything's just been a long dream. Finding myself... not here and not--not me," Jorath trailed off. He thought he had been getting better about it, growing familiar with falling asleep and expecting to wake up within his condo, sometimes finding Fi writing away when he woke. He lifted a hand to briefly, lightly, stroke the quill's feather.

That Er'anir was in the city, close enough to possibly find him, ate at whatever ball of certainty he had mustered over time. It felt like he'd run so far to get away, only to trip and discover that what chased him had been so much closer than he thought.

Taathiir
Count on Lucy to counter Taathiir's gloom with the brightness of her optimism. They gave her a slight smile, nodding once. "Yes, suppose you're right." They opted not to answer her question about being in love; confirming the question would likely lead to a follow up of 'when' and 'how' such a confession was made. Taathiir didn't feel like exposing the truth of having been tongue tied to the extent that crow coos came out of their mouth instead of actual words.

"Lu-Lu, you know I absolutely enjoy coming by to just see you. You're my favorite follower, after all," Gneni sang. "Bu-ut," they went on, drawing the word out as the merry tone dropped. "I'm afraid this is more a business call today, I'm sorry." The deity lowered their feet to the ground, tapping at their chin as they sighed. "Taviraa, precious sapling that she is, likes talking in her sleep. A lot. I heard a couple of his whispers earlier tonight. Either Secos is awake or xe'll wake soon--of course, keeping in mind that 'soon' could mean a century."

Taathiir stared at Gneni, wondering where this might be going. The deity caught their lack of response and hummed. Gneni opened their mouth, lower jaw seemingly disconnecting and fangs tucking safely away as they reached a hand in. After a moment, they pulled out a glowing orb about the same size as what Auris Domniir was supplying to followers. However, this one didn't have the glass sphere and tendrils of flame danced across the surface. Intense heat filled the workroom. "If Taviraa is predicting the awakening of Secos, it means there's a chance that some of the other deities might likewise stir. It means there's a chance that Secos will discover the sun gone and try gathering up allies to get it back."

"Secos," Taathiir started. "Deity of the seasons?"

"Yes, and also one of the protectors of the sun. The seasons rely on the sun and Time for changes to take place. Can't have a Summer drought if Winter snow is never melted away." Gneni popped the sun back into their mouth, swallowing the ball of gas and fire as a whole. "I want to keep an eternal night; you guys want to keep your underlings happy. As such, we can't exactly afford having Secos wake up. So, whenever you can find the time and the bodies, I want your help to go check out Secos's resting place. Can you do that?"

Glancing at Lucy, Taathiir motioned to the files they'd brought. "Right now, much of Auris Domniir's forces are working on potential damage control and on maintaining our resources during whatever might happen at the end of the window we presented to the city. It's looking like there's going to be some structural changes or something similar. But, once the window has passed, I can have Fred fashion a unit. Do you have the equipment to support him if needed?" they asked Lucy.

Edited by ValidEmotions

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Xaal & Vaz

 

Vaz chuckled over whether they wanted to listen to more stories in the future, nodding in agreement with Xaal as she indicated that she at least would be interested in more of them. Xaal meanwhile began to think back on her conversation with Argia before the untimely interruption, eventually tugging on Vaz’s free arm for their attention.

 

‘Does the Cemetery have a garden?’

 

Vaz blinked in response, obliged to answer but unsure why Xaal was suddenly asking them such things. Sensing the mild confusion she explained that Argia had asked her earlier on, to which Vaz shifted their gaze towards her with a look that Xaal found difficult to decipher. It held their usual stare of intrigue when exchanging information, but there was something calculative about it as well.

 

“Yes? Oh, well, it did when I visited it at least. Been quite a long time since then...It was quite a lovely garden setup, I remember lots of lilies and ah...chrysanthemums...some forget-me-nots. My tour guide didn’t seem too fond of my suggestion of adding daffodils though. Said the souls wouldn’t agree with them or something daft like that.”

 

Rustling of parchment sounded in their ears and Vaz then switched their focus back towards their fellow demon, silently observing the exchange between him and Fi but with an ever-growing grin plastering onto their face as they watched. It only faltered when Jorath grasped at their sleeve, sensing the tension in his hand. Idly they reached over and patted at the back of it as Argia asked if he was alright, humming faintly in encouragement when he kept his reply civil. Even though they recognised what Argia had signed and knew that the anxiety had to have been his own. They squinted at Xaal when she took advantage of Jorath’s lack of understanding her to start theorising with Argia. 

 

‘Vaz said earlier they had a fight with other demons near my territory. I know one, Takut. Maybe Takut is looking for him-‘

 

Vaz cleared their throat loudly, trying to distract the two ladies from their budding discussion before they gleaned something about the situation with Er’anir and started asking questions that Jorath wasn’t in the right mindset to answer. 

 

“I gave Mag’than ample warning. I told her if she said one more word I would take them from her.”

 

Announced the scribe, gesturing grandly towards the crumpled heap that she was curled up into that could now be spotted in the distance. They stopped walking when Jorath released his grip on their arm, eyeing him in their peripherals as he tried to better explain what the issue with sleeping was. After a moment of consideration they felt Xaal brush past them, continuing further down the tunnel while Vaz lingered back to listen.

 

“I...see. Yes I suppose...hm. I think I understand. I’m so sorry my dear I’m not certain...”

 

Vaz didn’t have a complete solution for him. They bit at their lip, freezing in thought save for the occasional twitch of their neck as their mind rapidly shuffled through some paperwork for a suggestion. 

 

“Still...I...I think if we are to confront her in any manner you need to recover your energy first L’antiira. You’ll want to be in good shape. If you do not want to feed for it then...well I think sleep is the lesser of two evils for you, no?”

 

They turned to face him, one hand brushing against his shoulder while the other hovered between them for a moment before reaching up to hesitantly rest a few fingers against his cheek. The scribe then knitted their brow together and twitched the corner of their mouth into a sympathetic smile, shifting the hand on his cheek upwards so that it could occupy itself with fixing a few more out-of-place strands of hair instead. They watched for subtle shifts in his expression, trying to work out whether they were indeed easing his nerves at all or just adding to them and adjust their hold accordingly.

 

“How...how about if I stay right next to you? I’ll just sit and read or write for a bit perhaps. That way when you wake up I can remind you where you are. Would that help?”

 

A gurgling cry distracted Vaz shortly after their suggestion, the result of Xaal poking Mag’than with the tip of her bow. From the spot where the humans were slumped over one of them stirred slightly from the noise. Vaz exhaled in a long, frustrated tone, holding Jorath in their embrace for a few more seconds before they decided that they should probably stop the garbled caterwauling before it actually woke up any of the humans.

 

“Sorry, L’antiira, just a moment.”

 

Vaz, with mild contempt now lingering on their features, practically stomped over to Mag’than’s hunched over form and commanded something of her in aeiuwn. The demon convulsed in response, coughing and spluttering as she wrapped her arms around her stomach. She hacked up what appeared to be a mouthful of ink, followed by several more smaller splotches to join it. Once she had cleared the horrible substance from her system she wheezed and flopped onto her side, shivering slightly as she recovered.

 

“Ugh...f***...tastes like-“

 

“Filth?”

 

Offered Vaz, with a gleam of a smile that bordered on sadistic as they hunched over the miserable demon. They sniffed in a derisive manner when she scowled and glared at a spot on the ground instead of answering them, before abruptly straightening up and dusting off their hands in a business-like manner.

 

“Right! Now that that’s all sorted - what are we all planning on doing?”

 

Their eyes flickered over to Xaal, who after starring at Jorath for a while was starting to sign something to him. Vaz frowned, noting the sudden shift in her demeanour towards him. She still held a wary stance, but her eyes held something more akin to pity in them as she regarded the demon before her. Slowly, Vaz turned, and relayed her message as they eased themself into a seated position beside the largest pile of books.

 

“Xaal would like to apologise for startling you. She was ah...’just making sure you weren’t being an a***hole’, to use her own terms.”

 

Began the scribe, gesturing towards the ground in the hopes that the rest of the group would come and join them. In a manner that seemed more instinctive than a conscious decision Vaz pulled over the book from the top of the nearest pile and skimmed over the contents page before looking back up at Xaal and continuing their translation. At the end of her message she held out her hand to Jorath, beckoning him forward with the other.

 

“She says she can shroud your aura in a more fixed manner, she has a trick that could last you a few hours. Just need to hold her hand until the tattoo of a rose appears on your own. Might make you feel a bit more...secure? Perhaps?”

 

 

Lucy

 

The ancient demon smirked in response to Gneni’s statement that she was one of their favourites, poising smugly in reply until their change in demeanour properly reached through to her. A pout soon found its way back onto her features, though this time it was aimed in the direction of the deity rather than the flighty Collector in front of her. Her irate tone mellowed into a more business-like manner at the mention of Taviraa and Secos though, albeit something with a more solemn tone.

 

“I guess that confirms what was in the reports I was looking through this morning then?”

 

She announced, pacing over to her workbench and sorting through some of the clipboards that had been stacked there for her to review. A hum of a tune accompanied her sorting, ancient and aeiuwn in origin, as she was seemingly unfazed by the sight of Gneni unhinging their jaw and withdrawing the orb of intense light and heat from within. She did wrinkle her nose a little as the heat of the room rose, but it was less to do with any sort of discomfort and everything to do with the fact that she didn’t want anything flammable to ignite unexpectedly in her workspace. Again.

 

“I always have some new little inventions to test out Taathy, you know that. The question is more which ones do you want to try first- Ah! Here it is!”

 

Finally she withdrew the set of files that she was looking for and flipped through to the section she wanted to indicate to the other two. Several illustrations of wildly varying styles and quality of work littered the page, detailing what looked to be a collection of different species of animals. Most were typical of what you would find in the surrounding forest of the city, deers and rabbits seeming to be the most common. One person had clearly drawn a lion though, it’s mane alight with fire, which looked to be roaring up at a shakily-drawn bald eagle.

 

Lucy handed over the clipboard to Taathiir as Gneni peered curiously over their shoulder at it. They sucked in the air through their teeth and tutted at the sight of the illustrations, but prompted Lucy into having her say rather than interrupting her line of thinking. Lucy could come off as rather absent-minded at times, but Gneni knew better than to underestimate her seemingly scatter-brained mannerisms. There was a mind that was scheming and planning somewhere under the cheerful exterior, it just sometimes took a while to figure out where it was going.

 

“Had a bunch of the humans in our lower ranks report on having some odd dreams over the last few nights. They all said they saw some sort of animal that kept changing its shape, trying to lead them to somewhere in the forest. Poppy down in HR’s been trying to scrounge up descriptions and drawings for me, see if we could find any sort of pattern or something for a bit more info.”

 

She bounced on the balls of heels again and looked around the room, running a quick tally in her head over the numbers of their organisation and what she knew of the current agenda.

 

“So, anyway, xe’s gotta be somewhere in the forest then right? If everyone’s been getting visions telling them to go there.”

 

Gneni nodded in confirmation, their head inclined in a manner that made it difficult to tell whether the wide grin across their face was a strained one or not. 

 

“Good. Good. Well surely Taathy we can spare a few people to go and at least scout out things now then...? Yeah? Heck why don’t you and I go do it right now? You like...plants and...trees and stuff. Nice walk through the forest might even get a smile on that grumpy little face of yours.”

 

Green eyes flickered down to her dress and she hummed in thought, mumbling to herself that she should probably change into something a bit more suited for a trek though the forest before her eyes glanced back over at the Collector. The perky lilt to her voice faltered as she studied their face, hoping that they would take the hint.

 

“Besides, even if we don’t find anything. You look like you could use a little fresh air and have one-on-one chat with your best friend right about now, yeah?”

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Argia / Jorath

"Must have been nasty," Jorath mused idly. Definitely called it that Maggie deserved it, looking to the figure that Vaz gestured towards at the station. His feet stopped moving though at the edge between the tunnel and the station, Vaz coming to stop beside him while both women walked on. Busying his hands by putting the gifted scroll back into the pocket of his shirt, Jorath glanced at Vaz once more as they presented their share of logic. It wasn't really to combat his fears, but seemed more for the sake of disturbing the claws such fears imbedded into his thoughts.

Even though he watched their hand hover for a moment before reaching up carefully, Vaz's fingers upon his cheek still sent a slight buzz through his skin. Which only continued, just as pleasantly in their office, to travel into the back of his neck when those same fingers dealt with his hair. "That would be, um--" Jorath stammered at Vaz's suggestion. You're weak; depending on others to protect you like a fledgeling.

I know. He was too tired to beat back the thought. There wasn't room to finish his answer, though, as Mag'than gave out a cry and Vaz diverted attention to them. Jorath grimaced faintly at the scene as they spat out ink and looked to be in pain. He finally moved closer, hovering near one of the support pillars to rest a shoulder against the cold stone.

Argia was fiddling with the campfire while Vaz and Xaal dealt with the Seeker, stoking it back into a stronger semblance of life and warmth. "Argia?" She turned to look at Jorath, letting the stick she'd been holding to plop into the flames. The man looked hesitant, something she was beginning to recognize as perhaps a quality that he constantly dealt with. She wondered what he might be like on a "better night", as Vaz hinted at. There was silence as she waited for him to continue speaking. (Excepting the noise from Mag'than.) A beat longer, and then, "I, uh, react poorly to things that impact my senses or abilities, especially if it forces me into doing something I didn't want," he explained.

Nodding slightly, Argia didn't comment on how she had come to notice such a thing. Nor how familiar she was with seeing it in some humans. He shifted his stance, rapping a knuckle against the pillar and averting his gaze as if he might be thinking. "It's--it's not an excuse. My name is Jorath for--for a reason, but you don't deserve... uh..." He was rubbing at the back of his neck again. Still, she remained silent, hoping for him to get through what he wanted, or needed, to say. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve me shouting at you for something meant to be harmless."

She smiled. "Accepted, Jorath. And forgiven," she replied, to which the demon seemed caught off guard. After a moment, the ghost of a grin flickered in his features. Vaz clapped a second later, calling attention as they straightened up. Xaal, likewise, started signing to Jorath. Argia started to think Jorath might know the language until Vaz translated, taking a seat in roughly the same span of time.

A short chuckle escaped Jorath, his gaze diverting as he tried avoiding Xaal's pity. "Oh, well," he started, not sure if he should respond with the reflexive 'it's fine' that came to his tongue, knowing the reaction he had back in the tunnel. "I get it; I'm sometimes an a**hole," he smirked. Fi twitched once against his temple as she returned to resting behind his ear. "So, I don't blame you for wanting to be cautious." He almost added something else but then more was said by Xaal, through Vaz.

Staring, a bit wide-eyed, at Xaal's illuminated hand, Jorath was unable to find words or the ability to move. Shroud himself? He'd been making use of other, partially imperfect, means to make it difficult for someone to locate him, primarily through wards and--for very specific and sparse instances--an ability that Er'anir had contracted a long time ago to store within Illstrund that she had intended for her purposes. (Jorath discovered that he could use it himself for some feeble sense of safety.) What Xaal offered, however, was complete invisibility. Just long enough for him to sleep.

His knees went weak and Jorath found himself easing to the ground to sit and avoid falling. His breath got stuck in his throat. There had to be a drawback, some shoe waiting to be dropped. Something she wanted from him in return. "W-What exchange do you want for this?" Jorath asked.

Taathiir
Skimming through the sketches that had been passed over to their hands, Taathiir only gave Gneni a brief sideways glance as they draped themselves on Taathiir's shoulders to view the images simultaneously. "You and I scouting is reasonable; it'll get us some immediate information while also giving Fred the time to select a preferred team." They set the clipboard down on the table, crossing their arms as they lightly tapped a foot. It took a few moments, but eventually they added, "I suppose," to Lucy's remarks about enjoying a walk and having a discussion.

"Brilliant! While you two sweets have your hike, I'll keep an eye on the fort and see if I can't find out who, specifically, might also be stirring besides Secos," Gneni declared, running their finger along the table in circles. "Maybe also grab some food; I'm famished from keeping the sun so warm and toasty. Hey, does your cafeteria have fresh raw kills tonight?"

"Yes," Taathiir said.

"Lovely," Gneni purred, although it sounded more like a hiss to Taathiir's ears this time. "Have fun, children!" The deity brought a hand up to kiss their fingers and then waved it in both Fallens' directions before exiting the workroom, disappearing as they turned past a machine.

Taathiir waited a moment before sighing and collecting the files they had brought in. "Shall we, then?" They held their arm out for Lucy to take as they vacated the space, making for the elevator again. Since Lucy would need to change for their excursion, Taathiir figured they could use the opportunity to do likewise. Their office was on a different floor from Lucy's, prompting a temporary split in paths at the elevator. Returning to their room, they headed for the closet, unbuttoning both vest and shirt as they did so.

The space was small with only a couple spare suit jackets and dress shirts hanging. At the back of it, however, runes had been drawn upon the wall. With a word, Taathiir pushed lightly and a section swung open, letting them step into the bedroom of the apartment they rented. Removing vest and shirt, Taathiir briefly washed up in their bathroom, idly glimpsing bits of the various tattoos that were inked into the upper halves of their arms and traveled across their shoulders, creeping down their clavicle. One arm had a cracked skull blanketed by an assortment of flowers; the other was a moth resting upon a lantern with a lit candle, its flame stylized to look more like tendrils of smoke. A murder of crows and a pair of bats all in different stages of flight covered nearly the whole of Taathiir's back. A willow tree occupied some of the space and edged onto their left side as well as their hip, its roots long-reaching and tangled. For a second, they paused and traced an ink line, not for the first time considering getting a piece for their chest or thigh; they hadn't settled on a decision yet.

Searching through the forest called for sturdy boots and durable, unrestrictive clothing. Taathiir changed, slipping on a fleece sweater to top off the outfit. Once they were newly clothed, they ensured that the portable cellphone charger was on their person before returning the way they'd come to regroup with Lucy.

Edited by ValidEmotions

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Xaal & Vaz

With a look of disgust, Xaal crossed her arms and averted her gaze when Mag’than started to expel the foreign ikaar from her system. Even for a demon that had been nothing but an aggravating little pest up until this point, she felt a twinge of sympathy directed at them all the same. She blamed the fact that she looked to be some lost, young human that was in way over her head. And the theory that Vaz could have, if they wanted to, dissipated the affects of the ikaar in a much more soothing manner.

Golden eyes shifted towards Argia as she replenished the fire, the Guardian taking an interest in the conversation that had now sprung up between her and Jorath. It was remarkable how human he looked too, when he wasn’t snarling at the rest of them or trying to claw the face off of an innocent mortal. It was…a difficult thing for Xaal to process, now knowing his origins. Her loathing for demon-kind had yet to waver, but there was now a conflict that ebbed through her over her love for humans and the drive to protect them. His voice was softer, hesitant, as he worked his way through to apologising to Argia. Xaal felt the tension in her shoulders ease, resigning almost to the notion that there was indeed someone more pleasant lurking beneath his stand-offish behaviour for the night. Jorath was right, it didn’t excuse his actions. But Xaal could appreciate that something in him was at least capable of acknowledging that.

 

It was Argia’s forgiveness that had convinced Xaal to try to reach out to him again. Xaal tilted her head, a smile even ghosting her features when she managed to coax a laugh from him despite the insinuation that she didn’t have a very high opinion of him. Vaz emitted a rumble of disagreement with Jorath’s words but Xaal just nodded, followed by a shrug.

 

‘First step is admitting it.’

 

She tried to articulate, though Vaz’s brief glance down at the table of contents in their book had meant that they missed that part of the translation. 

 

A confused look lingering in her eyes when Jorath seemed to falter at her offer. She watched as he sank to the ground, appearing to have some trouble with his breathing, and glanced over at Vaz for guidance on the matter. Vaz had a strange sort of smile on their face, one that lurked more in the realm of melancholy as they eyed him in their peripherals.

 

“Xaal still considers herself a Guardian angel, my dear. She protects others because it is what she wants to do, not because there is something to gain or be expected of her. It is...said to just be the nature of angels. An instinct to help others in any small way they can.”

 

Xaal shook her shoulders, a silent chuckle trembling through her before she tacked on an extra thought to Vaz’s claims.

 

“…She says if it bothers you as a demon though, you can agree to keep an eye out for anyone you see with one of her feathers or business cards. She has made promises to try and assist these people…but it is a hard one to properly fulfil when there are no other angels around to help.”

As Vaz translated Xaal began to trudge forward, deciding to place a bit more faith in the man and lowering herself to the ground just in front of him. Perhaps he just needed a nudge in the right direction. She held out the still-glowing hand with her palm facing upwards, edging it forward until she was able to take his own in her grasp. As she waited for the rose marking to establish itself on the top of his hand she straightened up her shoulders and openly studied him. The look was only one of mild judgement this time, fading more into general curiosity the more she starred at him. 

 

With her unencumbered hand she pointed to herself, spelt out her name with her fingers, then waved as she tried to establish a more formal introduction between the two of them. She then motioned towards Jorath’s ear, to Argia, then to the pile of blankets by the fire as she tried to gauge whether the shroud had convinced him to listen to another story or not.

 

 

 

Lucy

 

“Aw thank you Noodles! You’re an absolute treasure. Make sure everyone behaves themselves now, I’m a bit short on new volunteers for my latest project otherwise.”

The demon giggled and returned the fond fare-well from Gneni, watching them slink out of sight with a gleeful expression plastered on her face. It wasn’t until Taathiir spoke did she snap her gaze back towards them, winking as she edged away from her desk and took the offered arm.

 

“You know, I mostly just wanted to get out of reading all that paperwork you left on my desk. I wish you’d use my sticky notes more often, they make things so much easier to remember Buttercup - you got my sticky note right? I chose the purple ones ‘cause you seem to not appreciate it when I waste my special ones with the little flowers drawn on them-“

Lucy continued her stream-of-consciousness thoughts on similar, trivial things for the entire journey back up from the elevator. She had always been fond of banter and gossip, and anyone of a more introverted nature soon learnt that she could hold an entire conversation of her own if left uninterrupted. Lucy suspected, or at least liked to think, that there were times where someone like Taathiir appreciated the chatter in their own way. Someone had to fill the silence after all, and she was all too happy to volunteer on behalf of any introverts among her trusted associates.

 

She started to hum a tune once parted from Taathiir, and it carried itself all the way to her private office and into her closet as she flipped through her choices in clothing. Lucy, admittedly, was a bit stumped for choice as she pushed aside the numerous dresses she had been hoarding over several centuries. She did find a pair of neatly-folded jeans wedged in the far-back of one of the drawers, and she paused her tune to chuckle a bit before dragging them out and tossing them in the direction of the nearby waste-paper basket. No self-respecting demon ever wore jeans, surely. They were far too scruffy and imperf-

 

Hm.

 

Lucy turned her head back towards the jeans, and after a small moment of contemplation she reached down to fish them out of the now-empty bin and dust them off. The cheerful tune started up again as she undid the back of her dress and replaced it with the faded jeans and a dark-blue blouse. She had even manage to find a decent pair of walking boots among her collection of heels and sandals - though she honestly couldn’t recall what had inspired her to buy a pair of them in the first place. Lucy usually had other demons to do all the walking and lifting for her after all.

 

She took a step back and starred at herself in the mirror, deciding that the ensemble was bearable enough if she accented it with a different set of earrings and matching necklace, both of which featured a motif of a golden serpent with emerald eyes. As she gathered up her belongings and turned to exit the office once more she grabbed an overcoat from the coat-hanger at the door and slipped it on. Delicate hands held out her phone, tapping out the message ‘race you to the exit - get there first and I might re-think the nameplate change ;)’  before she glanced up and, after a moment of consideration, decided to walk to the bottom floor instead of teleporting.

 

“You look nice. Still reckon you should try some pastels though - they’d go well with your eyes.”

Mused Lucy once they had reunited, poking and prodding at Taathiir’s arm so that she could wrap her own around it once more. She began to lead the two of them outside of the headquarters of Auris Domniir and down the street, taking a more scenic route towards the outskirts of the forest.

 

“…So…um…Naya’il didn’t recognise you, huh?”

She began, once she felt certain that she was out of listening range of any lingering eavesdroppers from the organisation. Presumably anyone of the lower ranks new better than to poke into the privacy of Taathiir-razuul, but there was a new idiot spawned out of the fires of hell every day after all.

“…I um…Know how that feels. A lot. I know it sucks. You’re okay though yeah? Just thinking through some things in that weird ol’ head of yours?”

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Argia / Jorath

Argia watched the exchange unfold between Xaal, Vaz, and Jorath as she moved to check on the trio of humans and ensure that a blanket was nicely tucked about them. Zack stirred for the second time since Mag'than's commotion. David, in roughly the same instance, mumbled something incoherent in his sleep. "I can try," she heard Jorath respond, taking a moment to glance in his direction. The demon looked to settle a little better with an object of purpose presented to him in return for the shroud. "I'll have to balance it with The Order, of course."

"We'll work something out, Jorath," Argia popped in. "I'm sure, if what David said about gathering more Followers holds true, we'll be able to make sure those who need protection can find it. And, besides, you're not alone here."

Jorath paused but eventually managed to nod once. Mag'than, in her flushed state, seemed to muster enough energy to make a gagging sound and complain about "human sentiments"--or maybe it was "cumin sediments"? Their voice was too weak to hear it well. Xaal drew closer, reaching out to Jorath and he tracked her outstretched hand, his own gradually lifting to meet it. "Okay," he said, bracing himself for anything that might occur.

He had been eased by Vaz's explanation of Xaal's nature as a Guardian but he had still felt... uncomfortable, with the prospect of accepting such a gesture without knowing what to do for her in return. Time ticked by, and the only thing to take place as Jorath waited for the rose insignia to appear was a warmth in his hand.

The woman started signing something before waving at him. "Xaal's name is spelt as 'X-a-a-l'," Argia translated, after which she smiled. Jorath gave a slight wave in return, a spark of humor edging into place.

With all of that appearing to be settled, and as Xaal and Jorath moved to rest themselves closer to the couch, Argia mulled over which story she might tell this time. She, again, opted to sit opposite everyone with the fire before her. Jorath grabbed one of the folded blankets, sitting beside Vaz and offering to share it with them. "Are you alright with this?" Argia asked, checking how prepared he was.

He took a moment, trying to figure out how he wanted to have his legs positioned before eventually settling on pulling his knees close. "I'm... Yes, I think so. I mean, I don't want to rely on this but, for tonight? And, it's--it's not like I can't fight it off if I need to."

She nodded. "That is true. If you need me to stop, however, let me know. The influence won't start until the final third of the story."

Jorath kind of felt ridiculous about the entire scenario. But, for an odd moment, he felt okay with that. Maybe it was a factor of the warmth. Or perhaps it was because no one was... angry. Well, no one that mattered. Argia started her story, the same smoke from before drifting into a changing form above the fire. There was no rebellion against a tyrant king in Oliver's story, only the trials and tribulations of adversity in his migration from a shattered land to somewhere safe that he could turn into a home. Jorath had a suspicion that Argia picked this tale for a particular reason. Still, he wasn't about to complain.

The Influence was a subtle thing at the start. Like the first story, Jorath didn't notice it as it began to brush the back of his thoughts. Suggestive. With Argia's insight of when it would take place, he was able to sense it earlier. The hackles on the back of his neck itched and rose. Swallowing, he made himself inhale slowly and ease his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling instead of the running smoke-man.

As Argia's steady voice continued to rise and fall, creating a rhythm to the story, Jorath found himself thinking of the kind of music that it would become had it been a bard instead of a storyteller. There was a skip in the story when he blinked, his eyelids heavy and thoughts foggy.

A crack of panic surged up, Jorath's hand jerking upward. He meant to bring it up to his head but ended up bumping Vaz's arm by mistake. Right. His fingers found their sleeve, curling into the fabric as he reminded himself of what was happening. He steadied under the knowledge of what had been expected, shutting his eyes. Slowly, the tension worked its way out of his shoulders and back.

Argia stared during a few beats of silence, studying Jorath before switching her attention as she got up and dusted off the lower part of her dress. "The humans will be sleeping longer," she hummed, a slight lift to the corner of her lips. "New bit of Influence, and all," she said to Xaal, noticing that Vaz seemed to be resting as well.

Glancing at the stack of board games nearby, Argia smiled more. "Want to play some games to pass the time?"

Taathiir
They didn't have the heart to tell Lucy that her favorite sticky notes had a conflicting pattern; the choice of flowers printed on the bits of paper was just poorly done. (An Iris was much more fitting for communication. Poppies... not so much.) She liked cute, sweet things, though, and decorations of many varieties. They couldn't muster up a correction without worrying about souring her pleasure. So, instead, they focused on her idle chatter, nodding or inserting a line of feedback from time to time, though otherwise letting her control the conversation.

They're only response to the challenge via text message was 'okay' on their way back. As far as they were concerned, the threat of a nameplate change had been nullified when they told Lucy what had happened to cause Taathiir to hurry out. Still, they hadn't expected Lucy to decide to walk, rather than teleport, to the entrance. "I'll keep it in mind," they said to the pastels comment. "Matching my eye doesn't quite mean it'll suit my skin," was the added remarked.

When she prodded at their arm, Taathiir obliged in letting her hold it as they walked. Lucy was oddly silent for a time, eventually prompting a slight glance from Taathiir. Ah. At last she spoke up, tentatively leading into the topic of Naya'il. They parted their lips, but failed to immediately answer. Then, "My head isn't 'weird'," rumbled out from their mouth. "But... yes. I am thinking and I shall be okay in time. There is a lot to sift through. For now, I am processing the shock that my partner is alive and here."

Again, they fell silent. Since returning from Naya'il's--Argia's--Anchor, Taathiir worked to unknot the cluster of thoughts and emotions clamoring to take hold. Confusion, relief, anger, heartache, nervous excitement. All that, and some more, tightly clung to worry. "I am sorry you've experienced this, Lucy," they started. "Did you work through it?"

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Xaal & Vaz

 

The Guardian grinned as she sensed Jorath’s aura diminish before her, though it ended up as a slightly strained one when it occurred to her that it also meant she could no longer use it to glean the sort of emotions that were swirling about in his head. Still, he seemed to be more settled than before and now open to at least trying to get some sleep, so she nodded a few times in approval and sprang back onto her feet to return to the fire. Vaz had meanwhile repositioned themself into a more comfortable position on the lounge while waiting for the shroud to take affect. The corners of their mouth twitched upwards when Jorath wandered over to join them, and they happily accepted their share of the blanket he was offering as he took a seat beside them.

 

“Not to worry my dear, it is just for one night. We can look for something a bit more practical for you in the near future, no?”

 

Like with her first tale, Vaz found themself lulled into a more serene state of mind as they listened to Argia’s words. Even as an immortal being there was definitely a soothing quality to them, so Vaz found themself closing their eyes and leaning back against the lounge as they absorbed them. When Jorath flinched beside them they stirred and an amber eye peeked back open, studying him briefly.

 

“Subway. Underground. Nice and hidden.”

 

Mumbled Vaz as a reminder, their voice unusually quiet and sluggish. As his hand gripped at the folds of their sleeve the scribe’s hand drifted across, resting itself upon his own until the tension it felt from his hold had subsided. Vaz closed their eyes again, returning their mind to Argia’s words as a haze began to settle over their thoughts. Perhaps it was just from all the stress of the night, or the warmth of the blanket and the demon beside them. But soon enough, Vaz began to also drift off into sleep.

 

‘Vaz was right. You speak well. Were you taught by someone? Or something you were created with?’

 

Inquired Xaal, glancing over at Vaz to prompt them into also paying her a compliment. She blinked in disbelief as she noticed the slump to their shoulder and head, but after pacing over to check on the duo she noted that, yes, Vaz had indeed fallen asleep for the second time that night. For all their lecturing of Jorath needing to rest and recuperate, it appeared that Vaz was in dire need of heeding some of their own advice.

 

It also meant that, due to no longer being conscious enough to force them into sheathing, Vaz’s wings were now trying to make a reappearance. Xaal frowned as she watched the dark feathers try to fan out from beneath the blanket, Vaz’s still-enormous wingspan partially impeded by its surroundings. She glanced down at the quill that was posed over an unravelled roll of parchment at the foot of the lounge.

 

‘Should I wake them?’

 

Fi’Faltuun rose from her current draft of a Compendium entry for Mag’than, appearing almost to glance between her and the scribe. After a moment of consideration, she made a criss-cross motion in the air and then settled back down onto the parchment. Xaal nodded in acknowledgement. She knew from that experience that, for a Scribe of Truth, Vaz could be remarkably stubborn about properly vocalising that something was wrong whenever it was a personal issue. One had to watch for more subtle signs, or at the very least bribe one of the quills into providing more insight into the matter. If Fi thought it was best to leave them there, then there was probably a good reason for it.

 

Careful so as not to wake either of them, Xaal applied some mild pressure to the side of Jorath’s cheek with her fingertips until she successfully coaxed his unconscious form into leaning more against Vaz’s shoulder instead of up against the back of the lounge. Instinctively Vaz’s wings adjusted as the weight against them shifted, the tips of their upper set now stretching out and upwards against the back of the lounge while the lower set closest to Jorath curled forward and around him. Better. Thought Xaal. It still didn’t quite look comfortable for Vaz, who probably needed to be lying down to properly accomodate said wings, but at least this position would hopefully avoid a terrible case of wing-cramp when they inevitably jolted themself awake.

 

For a second her hand ghosted the charred, mangled feathers that now spanned out from the folds of the blanket. She hated how these were the feathers now associated with the scribe. Loathed them, in fact. And it would be so easy to purge a few of said imperfections from their wings while they were unconscious-

 

Xaal snatched her hand back, breath hitching, and she turned her back to the slumbering duo to properly stuff down the echo of her deity’s orders. Breathe. Nothing more than a distant memory now, my dear.

 

Golden eyes flickered over to Argia when she announced that the humans would be sleeping for a while longer, Xaal nodding at the news. Her troubled expression softened at the suggestion of exploring what board-games the humans had to offer, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she wandered over to the pile of them that had been stacked up near the fire. Most of the titles were unfamiliar or unsuitable for only two players, but she did find an old favourite of Chess among the selection and placed it aside. After some more contemplation, she also added a word-based title that according to the instructions, revolved around trying to build larger and more complex words off of your opponent’s choices. Save that one for Vaz, perhaps. Her head swivelled around to stare over at Mag’than and, after some debate, she added the stack of wooden blocks to her pile.

 

‘Did you want to play too? Demon?’

 

Questioned Xaal once she had placed her choices on the table, figuring that it was best to keep her occupied with something instead of letting her stew angrily in the background for the next few hours. She picked up one of the wooden blocks out of its box and wriggled it in beckoning manner, before placing it on the table and beginning to form a tower out of the rest.

 

‘Tell us some things about yourself? Yes?’

 

 

Lucy

 

“I mean. It’s a little weird Taathy. Every immortal’s a little weird, myself included. I don’t mean it in a bad way you’re just all like quiet and collected all the time but I don’t really know how you do that. I just- I dunno. I don’t think I could handle being that quiet.”

 

Now that she had a tangent to drive herself towards Lucy began to pick up the pace again in regards to her usual manner of speaking to others. Her eyes scanned the numbers of the buildings and the occasional face that passed by them as they walked, her conversation with Taathiir occasionally sprinkled with a quick greeting towards anyone that dared to make eye contact with her as they passed on by. When Taathiir inquired about her own experiences with being forgotten she twitched her head towards them and pursed her lips in thought.

 

“Y-yeah! Definitely. For sure. Well I mean you know how it is sometimes you just get a bit of a bad day and such. That little voice in your head says something like ‘oooh look they forgot about you ‘cause you’re an insignificant little worm’ and so you have to talk back to it and be like ‘oooh no I think it’s because I’m no longer a big beefy boss guy with a pitchfork and an army behind me but thanks for playing’- Um. Wait. Hold on.”

 

Lucy went quiet for a few seconds, her brow wrinkling as she replayed the conversation in her head and tried to remember where she was originally going with this tangent.

 

“Gneni helps. They’re good at telling that little voice to go f*** itself. But we’re talking about you, so, um. Yeah.”

 

She briefly untangled her arm to scratch at the back of her neck, the rounded pupils of her eyes slitting as she contemplated some advice from the new deity she had pledged her allegiance towards. Eventually wide-eyes snapped back towards Taathiir, a wide grin returning to her features.

 

“How about we focus on the positives huh? She’s alive. That’s really great news. I’ve always wanted to meet her - you speak so highly of her. And I gotta know how the hell she charmed our lovely little Buttercup into doing that.”

 

They had reached a quieter section of the city, now heading for the outskirts. In the distance Lucy could now see the outlines of trees poking out from behind the tops of a few buildings, signalling that they were approaching the edge of the forest.

 

“And hey, maybe she just needs some time to remember, yeah? Sounds like you didn’t have much time to talk to her. But I mean, trust me, if she’s pals with Ol’ Scribbles she’s probably used to strange new entities popping up and telling her that they know things about her that they shouldn’t.”

 

Lucy frowned again and shook her head in a vaguely exasperated manner, which thoughts of her old advisor tended to always inspire.

 

“...Have you got any proof of who you are and what that means, that you can show her? What about Atropos? If it’s anything like my weapon then surely it’d still be loyal to you in some way right? It would respond to you somehow.”

Edited by Lycanious

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Argia / Jorath [with Time Skip]

"Thank you. Honestly, that is a very good question," Argia said. "My sovereign designed me for the purpose to reaping mortal souls at the end of their lives. I'm not certain how my storytelling fits in that, whether it is part of my creation or..." She trailed off, not certain of how to express the abstract shape of a thought in her mind. "I think someone once called me a librarian or historian. Though, I might have misunderstood since I was still learning the language at the time." After a moment, she gestured dismissively. "Regardless, I suppose, I simply greatly enjoy the life stories of mortals. Even if one's tale mimics another, there is always something unique to discover about them. And," she rested her chin in her palm, "I feel it is important in easing their fears of not being remembered."

Mag'than swept her gaze up and down, studying Xaal as the woman offered an invitation for the demon to join. For awhile, Argia thought they wouldn't answer. Eventually, Maggie looked at the wooden-block tower and frowned. "Fine, whatever, I guess." She got up, a little shaky in her legs for a brief moment before making it over to the table. Once the tower was completely set, the demon made the first move, sliding a block free from the middle and returning it to the top.

Argia had to read through the instructions, unfamiliar with the game, but found the premise to be quite easy enough. Maggie hadn't made to answer Xaal's inquiry about themself yet as Argia tested a block once it was her turn. The tower refused to yield the block to her, leaning threateningly until she let go and tried something else. "It would be helpful," Argia started, "If you could tell us something so that we can help you, Jorath, and Vaz with the journal trouble."

They sniffed once, lifting their chin as if they might say something of a defiant or stubborn manner. However, she seemed to deflate instead. "I can usually slip by unnoticed and snatch whatever I want to take. If you can keep Takut and her gang distracted, I can grab the book and quill without issue. Or, well--" Maggie grumbled for a moment. "In theory. The Scribe might need to come with me so they can tell their stupid quill not to stab at my hands like last time."

"So, you're a thief, then?"

"Hey! I'm much more than that!" Maggie snarked. Argia didn't react, staring at the demon until she returned to muttering beneath her breath. "I've got more talent than a common thief. So, don't insult me."

Argia directed a glance in Xaal's direction, contemplating something. "We'll run through your abilities later then, when Vaz and Jorath awaken, so that we can figure out how best to utilize them. Now, Vaz mentioned a friend of yours. Care to elaborate?"

Maggie fell silent, even edged a step away as they settled another block on the tower's top. "Kalath. Her name's Kalath. She's a fellow Seeker; more insect-like whereas I've an affinity with hares." Argia didn't know what that meant but opted to not interrupt with the questions she had. "We've been buddies since we emerged from the Fire, looking out for one another to keep our heads on our shoulders. It was her idea to cast an old spell and get rid of the dino creature. I told her it was a bad idea! She wanted a better reputation within Takut's ranks." Mag'than scowled. "Now look. I'm stuck with that trainwreck," she jabbed a thumb towards Jorath, "and I've no idea where she's run off to after your precious Scribe did something to her." She trailed off for a moment before adding, "Don't even know if the stunt actually worked out and word got to Takut..."

"You're a Seeker. Can't you find her?"

"If you haven't noticed, Our Lady--" Mag'than twitched two fingers on both hands for air quotes with her emphasis upon the title. "--I haven't exactly had the opportunity to search. So, if you don't mind, I plan on doing just that once this s*** is dealt with." More silence passed from Maggie until it became her move again. "We've been hoping to squirrel away enough cash, weapons, tech, Influence and such in order to break from Takut's Realm. Planning to bolster our own Realms and make names for ourselves. Ya know? But, a couple fledglings like ourselves, and Seekers to boot, aren't--" As the tower toppled over, they swore and rushed to catch the pieces; only partly successful. "That's bull! I want a do-over!"

Argia helped to gather the scattered pieces, only giving a quick and cursory look towards the slumbering individuals. Still heavily under the influence of her story. "Well..." Argia started, mulling over her words. "Perhaps there might be an option for you--"

Maggie scoffed. "And what? Work with both Fallen and a human-born demon on a longer term?" They shook their head. "Nuh-uh, no way. You're even dumber than you look if you think I'm even gonna entertain that idea! First and foremost, that kind of association is a death sentence pending. So, if I were you, I'd wisen up quick and dump these three." The demon examined Argia up then down, frowning. "What sort of demon are you, anyway? Don't think I've seen you about and I see plenty of faces."

"I'm a Harbinger," Argia said. "I'm neither demon, nor angel. New to the city."

"What the hell's a Harbinger?"

Argia raised an eyebrow, tapping a finger against the table. "A complex thing. I wouldn't want to overwhelm you with all the details." Maggie's gaze narrowed. "Let's continue focusing on you. Xaal? Any questions for our young companion?"
---
The sound of a crackling fire reached his awareness first. Jorath began to stir, smelling the burning wood as his senses stretched outward. Voices were next, aligning with the auras that surrounded--Consciousness snapped into place, opening his eyes and spiking his pulse. A quill hovering before his face greeted his sight. The weight of a body against his side and a blanket layered upon them both came to his notice. The quill brushed against his cheek, drifting to the slumbering figure at his side so that Jorath's gaze followed. Vaz was slumped over against him, their wings visible and as relaxed as possible upon the cramped couch. He exhaled, orienting himself on recognizing the Scribe and the handful of auras around him. Funny; Vaz had mentioned they didn't really sleep.

"Jorath?" He turned, Argia coming into view. "We're all here in the station. Were you able to get enough rest?" Her voice was hushed, very likely to avoid disturbing the others that were still asleep.

Nodding once, eventually, Jorath pulled some of the blanket down away from his shoulders. The rose symbol was gone from his hand. Briefly inspecting where it had been, he looked up once more at Argia and Xaal. "How long has it been?" he asked.

"A few hours. I intend to wake the humans so I can send them home. Perhaps you should disentangle from Vaz that way they don't suspect anything."

At Argia's suggestion, Jorath found himself hesitating. "Alright," he said finally. Carefully, he worked himself free of the blanket, using a hand to hold Vaz steady. "C-Can I get help? I don't know what's comfortable for wings these days." A little time, a few gentle nudges, and then he was completely free from the couch with Vaz situated until they woke.

Once Jorath stepped back, Argia started coaxing the humans awake. Gregory mumbled something as he stirred, requesting five more minutes, while Zack yawned and stretched out his arms. David rubbed at his face. "What's happening?" the man asked, words slurred and eyes bleary.

"You three fell asleep after my story. It's been a handful of hours now," Argia explained.

"Wait, really?" Zack said, prodding Gregory awake and earning a few brief swats for the disturbance. "Damn, I guess we were tired."

Gregory huffed. "Speak for yourself. I was perfectly fine."

"Well, you must have needed a nap, too. Why else would you have fallen asleep?" David pressed, shrugging afterwards.

"That would be my fault, actually." All three men quickly looked to Argia, confused expressions etching across their faces. She smiled. "My stories have their own little power and puts mortals into slumber."

Gregory bumped Zack's shoulder with a hand. "See! I was perfectly fine! Didn't need sleep." Zack shushed him sharply, pointing to Vaz and indicating that Gregory needed to lower his voice again. The man only scowled. "F*** 'em. I don't care if Eyeballs wakes up."

Jorath had to bite his tongue to avoid blurting out that he did care. Fortunately, Argia cut in, clearing her throat once for the humans' attentions. "You three have been here for quite some time tonight. Do you need to head home for anything?"

David scratched his chin. "Could use a bite to eat but we still have the food h--"

"Oops. Your loss, meatbag. I ate what was left," Maggie piped up. She returned Gregory's glare with a toothy grin. "Compliments to the chef, though. I recommend fresher chicken next time, however. Much better when it's still bloody."

Zack clapped a hand over Gregory's mouth as the human started to say something. "Let's not, please? Haven't you bickered with enough demons for one night? I want to go home, anyway; I need a shower and to check in on Darcy's cat."

Shrugging Zack off, Gregory muttered but acquiesced a moment later. "Fine. We'll head out and come back tomorrow or something."

"Oh!" David added, snapping his fingers as he recalled. Finding a scrap of paper and a pen, he started writing out a series of numbers, holding it out to Xaal as she seemed the only one with a phone. "Phone numbers: mine, Zack's, Gregory's, Richard's, and Jen's. I've also added Calli's number; she's the one who handles much of the recruitment efforts for The Order. She can answer any questions you have about Followers and brainstorm ideas for getting more people interested in us."

"Thank you, David," Argia said, waving to them as the humans made their way out of the station.

Taathiir
"Just because we are discussing me does not mean you should be ignored." They regarded her with a sideways glance, contemplating the 'big beefy boss guy' image of her for a sparse moment. "We can focus on the positives for now, as long as the negatives are not left to be invalidated and festering," they replied at last before falling into silence again.

Taathiir absorbed Lucy's commentary, nodding one or twice in an idle manner. They did spare a faint smile at the thought of having Lucy meet Naya'il. They had a strong suspicion that the two would get on as fast friends. Naya'il wasn't as talkative as Lucy could easily be, but she did frequently speak more than Taathiir. "No. Unfortunately, we didn't have much time to speak at her Anchor before we were interrupted. I do still have her old sash; perhaps it will help her memory to see it." A pause. "Atropos should still respond to me; I felt its recognition of me and its pull. From all appearances, it has done well to aid Naya'il over the centuries. Though..." Taathiir studied the forest, tracing their gaze across the bark of a tree. "There is a puzzling crack down the blade; a dark blemish that mars it. I worry what might have caused such damage. Even more strange, I think I sensed Naoxral, despite that she hadn't summoned her scythe."

A tree had, at some point in the past, fallen across the path they were walking. Stepping up and climbing over, Taathiir held out their hand to assist Lucy in doing similar. "I could, as further evidence perhaps, retell one of her stories. I've heard so many though, witnessed thousands, it would be a challenge determining the best story to use." They watched as a deer fled in the near distance, disturbed by the two Fallens' presence in the forest. "Which story would you recommend? Out of the ones I recounted to you."

There were no lifelines that Taathiir could sense, human or immortal. Though, it wasn't a great indicator if it was going to be much like with Gneni; deities were an entirely different category and, unsettling as it might have been, Taathiir had come to accept that they might never be able to detect Gneni or their siblings ahead of time. Especially if such beings chose not to be detected. "Does that necklace Gneni gifted you have any abilities related to locating Secos?" They knew that it could do a couple tiny things, such as disguising the appearance of her wings with an illusion (an otherwise impossible thing to accomplish), and that it had other abilities yet to be known. The Sun-Eater had opted to leave Lucy with the task of discovering the pendant's full potential, only providing her with occasional hints as part of a "game". Or so it had been expressed to them. Taathiir wasn't very keen to such a concept, preferring more to know ahead of time whether it could be relied upon for a specific situation or not.

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Xaal & Vaz

 

Xaal tilted her head in thought at the suggestion of titles. Both sounded awfully familiar, the sort of being that she would have potentially seen wandering idly through The Archives in search of a near-forgotten piece of lore or perhaps even perusing a few paintings of her Gallery. She would have to check her sign-in book upon her next return, see if anyone of that title had scribbled down their name into it.

 

‘Agreed. It is why I like art. Mortals are fleeting, but their creations are more timeless.’

 

Now in the presence of a demon, and a particularly obnoxious one at that, Xaal found herself slipping into her quieter habits as she watched on. She let Argia drive the conversation for the most-part, save for a brief eye-roll when Mag’than claimed that they were much more than a common thief. At one point, just before her turn, Lojaal slipped out from beneath Argia’s shawl and hovered in a nervous manner beside the tower.

 

‘Did you want to play?’

 

Xaal eventually deciphered, to which Lojaal made an enthusiastic ‘check’ motion. The angel smiled and motioned towards the tower, prompting the quill to twitch with delight and start to zip about it in a circular motion.

 

Lojaal, for an entity that had no opposable thumbs to speak of, was surprisingly good at the game. Xaal watched with mild fascination as she removed blocks in a manner that reminded the Guardian of a woodpecker, tapping away at her choice until it landed on the table with a soft ‘clunk’. Lojaal drifted back away from the table and wriggled about in celebration. It earned a smile from Xaal, who idly stretched out her hand and stroked at the feather in much the same way one would pet a small bird.

 

‘I have one question. What is the relationship between Takut and Er’anir? Good? Bad? Will one come to the aid of the other if risky?’

 

 

As Jorath stirred and asked for assistance Xaal shook her head at the sight. So many people seemed to underestimate the durability of angel wings. Her bemused tone dimmed though as she realised his awkward attempts at delicately shifting them was probably due to Vaz’s condition specifically. Xaal wandered over to assist Jorath in extracting himself from his somewhat clingy companion, who stayed asleep during the entire manoeuvre but did emit a small noise of protest when they were forced to let go of his arm and the warmth abruptly vanished.
 

When Jorath had freed himself she grabbed at his sleeve, preventing him from turning or walking away. Once she felt she had caught his attention she released him and pressed a finger to her lips, indicating for him to remain silent as Argia went to check on the humans again. Briefly she knotted her fingers together and wrinkled her nose, but after a moment of silent contemplation she pulled down on the edge of the blanket still covering Vaz and motioned to the raw patches of skin that she had noticed along their upper set of wings. She then glanced back up at Jorath and, after being unable to convey exactly what she wanted to ask of him, slumped her shoulders and reached into her pockets. From within she drew the green, glossy feather and pointed between it and Vaz, a last-ditch attempt at communicating with him in the hopes that, by some amazing stroke of luck, Vaz had actually taught him about a few feather combinations and what they meant.

 

She heard Gregory mumble something, and after hesitating for Jorath’s answer she reached out to force the feather into his grasp. It was followed by the striped feather. Xaal gestured for him to pocket both, then withdrew to join Argia and the humans as they stirred awake.

 

“That was a helpful exchange.”

 

Snarked Mag’than, her elbows propped up on the table as she crossed her hands beneath her chin and squinted over at Jorath. There was a mild flicker of curiosity in her eyes over the feathers, before it was quickly buried under the reminder that it was probably some useless, sappy sentiment like ‘love is all around you’ and she lost interest. Her gaze returned to the humans and the conversation with Argia.

 

“Are you gonna hurry up and wake up your f- acquaintance any time soon?”

 

Mag’than eventually added, switching out her insult for something more neutral as she watched the humans walk past her and up the stairs to exit the station. Briefly she rubbed at the side of her jaw. Most of the bruising had healed by now, but the reminder that Jorath wasn’t above lashing out in such a manner made her consider holding her tongue on the more biting insults she had stashed away for the pair of them.

 

“I’m assuming the stuffy old bookworm over there is the brains of this little menagerie. Why not make them useful so we can get this journal back and split before you lot tank my reputation even further.”

 

Xaal squinted up from her phone at the demon, pausing her efforts to add all the new contact numbers she had been given onto it. Admittedly, she was starting to worry about the fact that Vaz was still unconscious. Especially considering that everyone of a mortal-attuned mind had already awoken. After some internal debate over whether they should be left alone or not, eventually she reached out to them and, lacking any ability to ease them into consciousness with another whispered secret, started to shake them by the shoulders.

 

Vaz grumbled out something unintelligible in response as they were shaken, finally stirring to life. Their wings stretched and fidgeted, dislodging several feathers as they scratched across the fabric on the lounge behind them. Blearily they blinked opened their eyes, followed by a few extra ones that spawned above and below their usual set before Vaz groggily rubbed a hand over their face and dispersed them once more. For a moment they seemed unaware of their surroundings, their eyes glazed as they muttered out something about needing to rearrange the books in row 3039, between columns 82 and 94. They began to ease off of the lounge and onto their feet, arching their back as their wings stretched and briefly flared out to their full wingspan. 

 

Mag’than looked a little stunned, now that she had a chance to study the fallen being’s wings properly. She glanced over at Jorath again, eyebrows raised in mild alarm.

 

“I uh. Didn’t notice they were a four-wing earlier. What kind of bird are they? Crow? Or like maybe a raven they’re pretty smart yeah?”

 

It was the sound of Mag’than’s voice that seemed to bring Vaz back around to full consciousness. Seconds later the scribe gasped and staggered forward, startled, as they whipped around to face the group with bulging eyes. For a moment their wings flared and their feathers bristled, before Vaz seemed to register they were on display and the extra limbs snapped tightly against their back once more.

 

“Wh-Where-I...the...Archives...”

 

Stuttered out Vaz, quickly sheathing their wings once more. Their confusion morphed to a scowl as they heard Mag’than snickering in the background, memories of where they were now flooding back to them. After a moment of thought their gaze softened and switched over to Jorath once more, studying him for signs of rest.

 

“I am sorry L’antiira. I must have...dozed off? I was just...you...erm...”

 

Vaz glanced around the room, tallying up in their head who exactly was present before they continued to speak. It also gave them a convenient chance to better collect their thoughts after the initial panic of having of fallen asleep again.

 

“Ah...right. Anyway. Ahem. Did sleeping together help?”

 

Mag’than’s snickering turned into a coughing fit that struggled to differentiate between gagging and wheezing laughter of disbelief.

 

He slept for only a few hours. But he did seem far calmer than usual.

 

“Oh, splendid. Fi seems to think you had quite the peaceful slumber for a change?”

 

Mused Vaz, quirking an eyebrow in Mag’than’s direction over the inhuman sounds she had devolved into. Their eyes then trailed to the lounge, taking note of all the ink and charcoal now smothered into the fabric and forever staining it. Vaz peeled away their coat and deflated at the sight of those same substances all over it. At least they’d had the foresight to wear black, which disguised the stains to some degree. With a long exhale they started to dust off and pick bits of charcoal out of the fur lining of their collar.

 

“Is the shirt also ruined?”

 

Xaal starred at the back of their shirt and the long, messy smears of charcoal and ink that coated the space between their shoulder blades.

 

‘It’s fine.’

 

Vaz hummed in a tone that suggested they didn’t believe her, but they continued to merely focus their efforts on fussing over the second garment they’d ruined that night. Eventually it occurred to them that Jorath’s clothes were, again, probably ruined as well and they glanced over at him to verify the matter with an apologetic expression.

 

‘Time for planning?’

 

Ventured Xaal, fidgeting in a restless manner.

 

‘Think we should shroud, in and out nice and quick. If any demons see...’

 

Xaal made a snapping motion with her hands, then beamed.

 

‘Make sure it matters not.’

 

 

 

Lucy

 

“N-no. I know but- It’s fine. I was just trying to say that like. I get it. I think.”

 

Lucy waved her hand about in a dismissive manner, laughing as though there was some unseen hilarity in her choice of words. She turned her thoughts towards theories about what had happened to Naya’il for all those years she had been thought dead and gone. When the sash was mentioned she nodded enthusiastically in agreement, followed by a motion towards the brown feather that remained in Taathiir’s hair.

 

“Dunno if it’s the same for your lot, but mine would never forget a feather. Nor what it represents for each angel. Showing her that might remind her of some things...for better or worse.”

 

Eyes flickered briefly to Taathiir’s back, a hint of sorrow lingering in them as Lucy spared a moment for some of her fallen brethren. Lucy considered herself extremely lucky in one aspect, and that was the fact that despite the glamour that currently hid her wings, all six of them were in near-perfect condition. She wasn’t certain what condition Naya’il wings had been left in by contrast, but when angry deities were involved Lucy had learned over the years that it was best not to ask such things of others.

 

“Which story? Oh hell I wouldn’t know where to even start Buttercup. I don’t have a good a memory as you I think.”

 

Lucy chuckled, happily accepting the offered hand and daintily stepping over the fallen tree with their assistance. Such was the memory of a Collector she supposed, though she had never been entirely clear if Naya’il’s near-perfect ability to recall the lives and stories of others was one that was unique to her or not. Taathiir wasn’t chatty enough for her to have a firm grasp on how good their own memory was, though she did suspect it was an impressive one in its own right.

 

“...I like the one about the tyrant king. It’s just...yeah. That’s a good one.”

 

A sense of discomfort started to ebb into her core, so she quickly dispersed it in favour of recalling other stories Taathiir had shared with her.

 

“Otherwise I think my favourites are the ones that take an unexpected turn. Doesn’t matter what it is, really. I just like it when you have this little plan in your head about the sort of life someone’s lived and then suddenly, nope! Completely wrong!”

 

Emphasising the sentiment with a series of excitable hand gestures, Lucy almost missed the following question over whether Gneni had indicated whether the necklace was going to be of any use.

 

“Honestly? Dunno.”

 

Mused Lucy as she tapped a nail against the serpentine necklace, as if by some vague chance it would actually give her some guidance on the matter. She huffed a little at the lack of answer, but it was followed by a smirk just after. Getting a straight answer out of Gneni could often be a chore, but in some ways Lucy welcomed that. It was nice to have a deity that actually encouraged their followers to be independent and think outside-the-box rather than berate them for it.

 

“...I’m thinking it’s gonna be less of a case of us finding Secos, and more Secos finding us though. I’m sure a necklace with this much of Gneni’s influence in it is going to at least draw attention to us.”

 

She pondered that thought for a moment, and then tapped her hand to the necklace again. A soft, green glow started to emanate from her hand as she concentrated some more of her deity’s influence into the object. Slowly, the head of the serpent started to animate and lifted upwards, before shifting its gaze to a clearing towards the right.

 

“...Huh. Look at that. See this is why I love you Taathy you’ve got such good ideas. Looks like it wants us to head outside the barrier though...might get messy if we run into something starving out there.”

 

The back of her coat shifted, a splash of vibrant blues, greens and browns starting to unfold from it as Lucy unsheathed her primary set of wings. She stretched and tested her manoeuvrability in her current choice of clothing with them, briefly hovering a few inches off the ground before letting them rest at her sides again.

 

“Do you like? They’re peacock wings. Got a bit bored with the peregrine falcon look so thought I’d try something more colourful for this realm. You should ask Gneni for a necklace of your own - they’re really fun to mess around with in the mirror.”

Edited by Lycanious

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Argia / Jorath

He couldn't figure out what Xaal wanted and it didn't get any better when she tried pointing out the bare patches on Vaz's wings nor when she shoved two unfamiliar feathers within his hand. At least he understood that he needed to hide them away, adding them to the magicked pocket; there was something significant about them, though. Or maybe about the damage to Vaz's wings? Jorath would have requested Fi's help but Maggie cut in, earning herself a slight glare until Xaal heeded the demon's advice and stirred Vaz from slumber.

Her unexpected commentary on the Scribe's wings made him pause, however. Jorath could maybe see it? But something about the shape--Vaz seemed to startle and Jorath shifted towards them, reaching out a steadying hand. "It's been a long night; I don't blame you for sleeping," he murmured, starting to wonder what their trailing explanation was meant to be. At their question, and at Mag'than's dying-animal sounds, Jorath leaned a bit towards the Scribe as a crooked grin made itself known. "You know, had you mentioned wanting to sleep together, I would have recommended something better than the couch."

After a moment, he continued in a more hushed tone, whispering to Vaz about why Mag'than had started to sputter and wheeze over their question. "And, yeah. I feel more... rested," he mused, returning to a more conversational volume. It wasn't something Jorath could easily figure out what he was feeling, though. Gratefully, attention shifted to the charcoal that had transferred from Vaz's wings, leaving him the opportunity to set aside the foreignness of actually good sleep. Idly, he brushed a hand across a patch on his shirt and shrugged in response to Vaz's apologetic glance.

"Shrouding makes the most sense," Argia said, packing the wooden-block tower away. Grabbing the book she knew to have note pages at the back, she tore out a blank page and passed it, along with the pen David left behind, over to Mag'than. "Draw out what you know about where we'll be."

The demon scrunched her nose, tapping the butt of the pen against the table. "Easier said than done. There are nine underground levels and each one is a twisted, winding, looping, arrangement of corridors." They scowled. "I haven't gone through them all; would rather avoid them as much as possible. But, I do know the more direct path to Er'anir's little space where the diary and quill are at. Just a matter of not getting split up."

"Let's say we do end up split apart: where is it located?" Jorath asked.

"Seventh level and towards the--" Maggie trailed off as she pursed her lips in thought. "The northeast section. You'll see it if you can find the claw marks someone left behind in the wall on your right. If it's to your left, you're going the wrong way and you've passed the room."

Argia pointed at the paper again. "Can you draw the room for us, then, so we can see what we're going into?" Maggie nodded and started scribbling as Argia continued, turning to Vaz and Jorath. "Mag'than informed Xaal and I of the kind of relationship that existed between Takut and Er'anir while you slept. It seems like--"

"A rather odd one. I can't tell if it's strained or if someone is clingy," Mag'than cut in, still focusing on their makeshift map-making. "Either way, it doesn't seem like most of Takut's other associations or relationships." Maggie looked up briefly, frowning. "It's like, some days, she defers to Er'anir instead of the other way around. It wouldn't be as weird if she were a Knowledge demon. Once you get past the weird vibe, though, it reads like any other demon 'friendship' built upon the shared enjoyment of gossip, self-interest, and the mutual feeling of trusting each other only as far as you can throw 'em."

Jorath scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. When Argia looked up at him, the smile curling into his features didn't seem... very pleasant. "Naturally," he said. "Vaz? How long do you think Takut's banished for?"

"Wait, you banished T--" Maggie cut off as Jorath shushed her, scowling at him in return.

Once she was silent, he continued. "Do you think you can unbanish her? Bring her back to her home territory? If that's outside of your abilities, it's okay."

"But, why?" Maggie pressed, beating Argia to the inquiry. Why bring additional opponents in when they wanted to face fewer?

"Manipulation."

Taathiir
"Mortals can often be as surprising as they are predictable," Taathiir said in mild agreement to Lucy's sentiments. They didn't have much of a response to her remark about recognizing feathers; it was difficult to know if presenting Naya'il with her own feather would be... helpful, at best, given what had occurred leading up to their Fall. Sometimes, they could still see the afterimage of torn flesh behind their eyelids.

Lucy had moved on, tapping at her necklace and discovering a new sort of response. A twitch at the corner of their mouth was the only suggestion of amusement at her excitement. In turn, the primary set of Taathiir's own wings emerged, stretching up for a proper moment before half-curling into a ready state. "The colors fit you," they replied, taking a few seconds to study the new pattern that disguised her true wings. "When you tire of the peacock, might I suggest choosing something from the birds-of-paradise grouping?" Taathiir gave her recommendation an honest effort of contemplation before eventually shaking their head. "I don't believe I'm ready to become one of Gneni's followers just yet. And, besides, I don't think I'd look too good with a necklace. A ring or bracelet, however...." They shrugged.

Wings beating, they rose above the treetops, angling in the direction Lucy indicated and following her lead. Though the city was surrounded by forestry and bordered by mountain range, the thriving conditions of the land only stretched as far as a mortal could see from the city. The demons that obtained Influence and power by keeping the city functional only put in enough for the minimum in some respects. Humans wanted the land to at least look alive and well, meaning that the regions beyond their sight were less than ideal. It was one of the few consequences from taking the sun with Gneni's aid that prompted a twinge of discomfort within Taathiir. But, they felt it was outweighed by the knowledge that doing so will have better end results for everyone.

Lucy and Taathiir, as well as a variety of demons, often referred to that distinct line as "the Barrier" for simplicity's sake. Some others dubbed it "the Threshold" or "the Line" on occasion. It wasn't a smooth transition either, where there was some middle range of gradually dying land; it was just an abrupt switch between lush life and barren death. It would take humans a couple hours to reach the barrier, but on wing, they came upon it sooner. Though the river still flowed, the trees had decayed, only handfuls of dead leaves still desperately clinging to rotting limbs. Shrubbery had shriveled up and only trampled, scattered, patches of grass remained. Most wildlife had either fled to rehome closer to the city or died out in the struggle. Predominantly, only starving predators and scavengers remained to gnaw on old or broken bones for the marrow.

Which is how, as they traveled deeper into the unforgiving land, Taathiir came to spot the lone bull elk moving across the uneven terrain at the base of a mountain. Its ears twitched and tail flicked, nose brushing against a clump of dead grass. Its large, curving antlers were layered with flowering vines that must have gotten tangled up on the bone. Taathiir started to descend, gesturing for Lucy in case she might have missed it (which they doubted but preferred to be certain). Their feet lighted upon the dirt some hundred yards away, an observational distance that hopefully wouldn't disturb the creature. Despite their silence, however, the elk looked up and over at the two individuals and opened its mouth. An eerie sort of bugle emanated from the creature. Impossible as it was given the kind of terrain they were on, the call echoed around them.

As Taathiir watched, the plantlife upon its antlers began to decay, petals and leaves falling to the ground. Nearly in the same breath, the elk's form faded temporarily, growing enough in transparency that they could see the rock formation that should have been blocked by its body. "I think we've found Secos...."

Edited by ValidEmotions

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Vaz & Xaal

“Hmn, yes a bed would have been more prefer- Fi, my dear, are you alright?”

 

The quill in question twitched away from her entry, having of brought attention to herself by accidentally ripping a hole into the parchment. She jittered in a way that was of an ambiguous meaning to even to her Scribe, whose best guess was that she was lingering somewhere between amusement and exasperation over something. Amber eyes shifted to Jorath, their brow wrinkling as he explained what Mag’than found to be so amusing. It still took them a moment to comprehend what he was implying. When it finally dawned on Vaz their eyes bulged, a stutter almost threatening to overtake their words before their embarrassment was quickly stuffed under an eye-roll and a dismissive ‘tsk’ sound in reply.

 

“Good grief. At least pretend to have a bit of class about you dear. You should offer me some flowers and take me out to a nice dinner first.”

 

Vaz was about to try and mimic his goofy looking grin but instead fidgeted in sudden discomfort, glancing away as a murmur of doubt began to prickle at the back of their mind. Their line of sight drifted towards Mag’than still spluttering and gawking at the pair of them from a distance. He’s just trying to get a rise out of her. Don’t give him the wrong impression. The scribe rubbed at the back of their neck and frowned, a recent habit they seemed to have picked up from somewhere while contemplating their next choice of words. As a suggestion from Fi’Faltuun scribbled into their consciousness they glanced between her and Jorath, then straightened up to face him directly. They spoke in a low voice, hoping to avoid being overheard by the rest of the group.

 

“Jorath. If you ever do need somewhere more recognisable to rest a few hours though...will you let me know in the future? The Archives are always open to you. And…resting together I found was rather…erm…comforting?”

 

“Shrouding makes the most sense,”

 

“Right! Yes! We should shroud! Onto business!”

Trilled Vaz, suddenly clapping their hands together and brushing past Jorath to latch onto the conversation about their next course of action. They swooped towards the table and hovered behind Mag’than as she began to draw out the layout of Takut’s lair to the best of her ability. It earned them an unimpressed aside glance from the nominated artist, not wanting the Fallen to linger any closer than they needed to, but she refrained from commenting on it in favour of explaining her sketches.


‘I thought it was strange.’

 

Xaal began, once the subject of Takut and Er’anir’s relationship cropped up into the conversation. Like Vaz, she was reasonably familiar with the fear demon. She however had always loathed the woman, finding her to be a particularly ruthless demon with a penchant for driving mortals towards terrible things in their terror. Takut had always been an authoritative being though. The kind of individual that you knew was one day going to be a Lord of some sort, so she was constantly surrounded by grovelling lesser demons trying to establish a good repertoire with her. Xaal had never known her to truely bow to anyone else.

 

“That she would defer to Er’anir?”

The guardian nodded at Vaz’s interjection, suspecting that they were equally perplexed by this dynamic. She watched for a moment as Vaz’s eyes flickered back over to Jorath, a grimace etching onto their face before their attention switched back towards her.

 

“She…was always a rather independent creature. Never listened to a single order of mine. Barely even listened to Skrul for that matter. I can’t imagine her relinquishing any sort of power to anyone.”

 

Vaz could feel the back of their neck hairs bristle, and the weight of their head grew heavier as their jagged, broken horns started to manifest from the thought. It took them a moment to register what Jorath was requesting of them, blinking and shaking their head as their mind focused back on the voices surrounding them.

 

“Ah...hold on. Let me see where she’s currently lurking.”

 

The Scribe grew still after that statement, their eyes half-lidded as they zoned back out of the conversation. Mag’than raised an eyebrow at the silence from them, eventually waving a hand in front of their eyes to see if they would follow its movements at all. Vaz did not.

 

‘Scanning the Archives. Might take a while.’

 

Xaal explained, who knew from previous experience that Vaz could be stuck like this for several minutes if left unprovoked. Mag’than continued to look perplexed by this news. Or perhaps it was just disbelief that they could be so well-connected to their sub-realm as to browse it from afar.

 

“Can you do that?”

‘I would prefer not to. Slow to use. Draining. Hard to concentrate. Could get me killed in a fight.’

 

A yelp from Vaz made Xaal jump and turn to face them, catching sight of the scribe now gripping the edges of the table and a major spike of anxiety that surged through their aura. It was soon followed by an annoyed hiss of air through their pointed teeth though, the fear melting away as quickly as it had arrived as Vaz eased their hold on the table and straightened up. Right. Fear demon. 

 

“Found her. She’s rather vexed with me too as you can imagine. But I can certainly convince the quills to release her at the nearest exit to her lair at any time. What exactly were you planning, Jorath?”

 

Mag’than emitted a scoffing sound, starting to talk over the top of Vaz’s attempt to confirm whether Jorath wanted to release her right now. 

 

“C’mon? Really? You’re gonna let this guy be the lead strategist? You’re from the f***ing Knowledge domain.”

 

“I'm sure Jorath has valuable insight to offer. If you shut your slack-jawed gob for a few seconds we might actually be able to hear it and formulate a better understanding of -“

“Are you actually going to do anything useful?”

 

Vaz flinched, their breath hitching. Ever so slightly they inclined their head, as though they had been distracted by hearing something in the distance. Moments later, The Compendium spawned before them and was smacked down onto the table with a little more force than was typical of someone who cared so fondly for the book. Huffing in frustration Vaz flicked through dozens upon dozens of pages, now muttering to themself in more of their native tongue. Xaal didn’t offer a translation, but the slightly wrinkled nose betrayed some of her disproval for how much profanity was sprinkled into what they were saying. Finally, they settled on the entry for Takut and willed the book closer to the centre of the table so that all could read from it. A picture of the woman in the same white business suit as she had been wearing that night graced the top of the entry, followed by an ever-shifting series of statistics and paragraphs that began to spawn below the page. The writing began in Oldspeak, but after sensing multiple readers it erased itself and began to spawn once more in Commonspeak script.

 

“Primarily from the Fear domain, with a specialisation in visual and audio manipulations. Former Punisher and Helmsman of The Storm Bringer. Approximately 900 - 1,000 years old, so definitely one we want to watch out for my dears. She is extremely dangerous if-”

 

”F***. I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

 

“Don’t interrupt while I’m in the middle of a monologue dear, you’ll just make me have to repeat things. As I was saying. Takut is extremely dangerous if she can spot you without you spotting her, so if you find yourself without nocturnal vision or an ability to produce your own light-source I recommend finding a way to do-so. I would advise procuring some mirrors, too, for those of you with a more limiting number of eyes at your disposal. A mere mistimed blink could lead you to-“

 

“A mirror isn’t going to help she’s not a gorgon-“

 

“Darling. Do you want me to divulge the weaknesses of a woman who can convince you that disemboweling yourself is the lesser option of two evils or not?”

 

Mag’than shrank back down from the glare Vaz focused on them. They turned the page and continued to summarise its contents for their audience, despite still fixating their stare on the uncomfortable demon from across the table.

 

“…She has a long, well-documented history of using her manipulations to make individuals lash out at themselves or their comrades instead, so as not to get her hands dirty. Your best course of action, if you suspect she is nearby, is to watch your back and distance yourself as quickly as possible. Try to stay in larger groups around her if possible, it helps to neutralise her most threatening of abilities."

 

Having of settled back down after browsing through some the pages of their beloved tome, Vaz now rubbed a hand over their face and sighed. They beckoned Jorath to their side with an outstretched arm, intending to wrap it around his own once more before bringing up the next person in question.

 

“Now then. As for Er’anir...”

 

Began Vaz, flipping through to her entry with a wave of their other hand. Unlike the professional tidiness of the previous entry, her single-page entry was stained with several ink smears and a coffee-cup mark in the top-right corner. Across her profile picture an ‘x’ in ink had been scratched in under her throat, which prompted Xaal to shuffle in discomfort upon noticing it. Her available information however was painfully lacking compared to Takut’s entry, consisting mostly of a few sentences theorising her domain and what Vaz had learned of her abilities from tonight’s encounter. 

 

Under the small, squared off section titled ‘Related entries’, the text struggled to manifest as easily as it had along the rest of the page. The name Arga’ettakut eventually spawned in there with a corresponding page number, alongside of directions to Mag’than’s entry and, in brackets, Kalath’s followed by a question mark. The top entry however was indecisive, jotting down a few nonsensical letters in Oldspeak only for a streak of ink to cross over it, fade, and then be replaced with another few characters in Aieuwn. As Vaz began to read off of the rest of the page the garbled name faded once more, eventually settling on an illustration of a small, blue bird with the page number beside it hastily scribbled out.

 

“…You said Manipulation, yes? I can release Takut, but I would like to know what it is about this creature that would make that of benefit to us before doing-so.”

 

Their gaze lifted from the page, a mournful expression flickering into their eyes as they observed Jorath. Their voice softened from its more commanding lecture-mode variant in their next sentence.

 

“If it can be known. I do not wish for you to exert yourself if you are unable to explain.”

 

 

——

 

Lucy

 

“Hm, tempting, tempting. I’m not certain I have the disposition to be believable as a bird-of-paradise for very long though. Well, not in front of any angels at any rate. I suspect it will be a short-lived identity.”

Lucy twitched the corner of her mouth into a half-hearted smile at the thought of it, before switching her focus towards watching Taathiir mull over the option to ask for a necklace of their own. She pouted when they declined, but chose not to press on the issue and soon brushed the idea aside. Privately she did think that they could pull off a mysterious serpent ring that would allow for the same affect, Gneni would perhaps even be kind enough to adapt the look of it to their usual attire. But it was an unspoken rule amongst Fallen that if an individual wanted nothing to do with serving a deity, it was not something one tended to pry into or try to convince otherwise. 

 

As Taathiir unsheathed their own set of wings Lucy took to the air, easily rising above the treetops and moving across the landscape in long, gliding motions. Though the flight pattern still didn’t feel quite right she was getting used to using only one set of wings to get around. Her dexterity in the air was still abysmal though, drifting closer to Taathiir for conversation almost resulted in the two of them colliding before she managed to dip below him and reposition herself.

 

“Do you ever get reports from any other cities?”

 

Lucy asked as the edge of the barrier came into view, and her green eyes were forced to survey the results of Gneni successfully plucking the sun from the sky. She mostly concerned herself with her own territory for now, wanting to establish a solid beacon of hope for humankind before branching out to other areas. But she couldn’t help but still feel a hollow feeling in her core whenever she had to acknowledge the state of the world outside of their little pocket of survivability.

 

“I used to watch a lot of updates on the television when we first arrived. Seems…less, lately. But that’s probably just apathy or something, yeah? That’ll fix itself once Gneni gets a proper foothold on taming the sun.”

 

The sound of her voice trailed off at the last sentence as Lucy spotted movement up ahead, her sights settling on a large elk just before Taathiir gestured towards it. She followed their lead on the matter, landing with a little more force upon the ground and a slight stagger as she misjudged where her weight should have been distributed. She pursed her lips in thought and glanced around with wide-eyed curiosity when the elk bellowed out its eerie echo, answering Taathiir’s statement with a light titter.

 

“Do you think xe can talk?”

Questioned the Fallen being, quirking an eyebrow when the elk’s head dipped towards her and it pawed at the ground in a defensive manner. Her fingers drifted back up to the necklace, trying to muffle out some of the influence of her deity as she recalled that Secos was probably not in the mood to be engaging with any of Gneni’s representatives.

 

Still, she didn’t earn her reputation for a tangoing with Temptation by just gawking blankly at every oddity she stumbled across. Even if that was more-or-less how she eventually managed to win-over Taathiir’s…friendship? Yeah it was probably a friendship. She didn’t ask for fear of Taathiir saying otherwise, but she was fairly certain by now that the two of them were buddies. And by virtue of being the only one that she felt hung around with them outside of business hours, Lucy was convinced that it also made her their absolute best friend as well.

 

“C’mon Buttercup, let’s go introduce ourselves. Maybe we can quell this little problem before it starts?”

 

She began to walk towards the elk, hands held out to show that she wasn’t holding any sort of weapon as she called to it.

“Aw, sweetie. You look absolutely famished. Y’know there’s some greenery back from where we came, right? What’re you doing all the way out here?”

Edited by Lycanious
Autocorrect keeps eating my letters :c

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Argia / Jorath

Jorath would have laughed if Vaz's retort of flowers and dinner hadn't caught him by surprise. The glimpse of their discomfort only further worked to close down on the humor of the situation and he found himself faltering. S***. I shouldn't have--He had crossed a boundary, hadn't he? Should have asked first, at least to make sure--

"The Archives are always open to you." The Scribe's voice was quiet, working to avoid notice, as they gave the open-door offer. 'Comforting' wasn't the shared sentiment Jorath thought would have fallen from their tongue after their fidgeting. That he realized it was a shared sentiment also took him through a slight loop, leaving him very, very confused. Vaz moved away, however, before he could even think of how to approach it. Do they....?

As the unfinished thought knotted and twisted and untangled some stirring sensation, Xaal and Vaz had begun inputting their voices into the discussion. It took a moment but Jorath eventually edged closer to the table while Vaz searched the Archives, his gaze focusing on their horns. He made to answer their question, but Mag'than's snark cut in, designing a two-pronged insult. Jorath's jaw clenched; it was becoming a much too tempting thought to break the Seeker's jaw or rip out their tongue and find out if they were strong enough to regrow body parts.

Vaz put the demon in her place, however, and he wasn't going to lie about it being satisfying to watch if someone decided to ask him. There was a flicker of distaste undermining that pleasure, though, disturbed by yet another reminder that demons like Vaz would have to ceaselessly prove themselves. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the crease in Argia's brow as she seemed to study Vaz.

At their beckoning, Jorath moved around the table, letting Vaz's arm slip around his while examining the battered page containing Er'anir's portrait. For having only encountered her once, Jorath was equal parts stunned and unsettled by the immense attention and accuracy paid to physical details. "You really do not like her...," he murmured, spying the 'x' upon her throat and just managing to restrain the impulse to run his fingers across the image.

Jorath began to tap the table with an index finger, a slight sound making its way passed his mouth. It coaxed Argia's attention away from the shifting words in the Compendium, a curiosity being sparked by the one reference that wouldn't settle on something like the rest had. He was mulling over something, from what Argia could decipher before he came up with a reply to the question at hand. "It's risky and not at all a guarantee, I won't deny that. But... what are the chances that Takut would be happy about learning someone is trying to dismantle the control she has over her own forces?"

She frowned. "That's not really answering the question, though."

The glance he shot her way was difficult to interpret. "It's the only way I can answer it." He rubbed at his throat, appearing like an automatic gesture that he wasn't fully aware he was doing as his gaze drifted back to the Compendium. Fi'Faltuun moved to float before him, getting his attention while a scroll lifted out of the pocket on his shirt.

Argia watched it unfurl like before in the tunnel, though she couldn't see its contents. The quill was moving, pointing at something on the scroll and Jorath eventually pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. "Hold on, I can--" He started mumbling briefly about books. "Are you asking about the Archives?" The quill swayed when he looked at her again, moving to indicate something once more before pointing to Vaz. Whatever it was, Jorath lit up slightly. "Oh! Right. Yes." Something that concerned Vaz, and possibly the Archives?

Hearing a huff beside her, Argia glanced over at Mag'than as the demon rolled her eyes. "So glad we have a master strateg--" Argia clapped a hand over Mag'than's mouth, earning a startled but irritated scowl as the Seeker batted her arm away. "Look! I'm just saying what we're all thinking! The dude can't even read and we're supposed to trust his insights on this?"

"Literacy doesn't impact--" Argia began, words sliced into silence as Jorath moved.

He grabbed Mag'than by the shirt, pulling her close as a sneer grew. She clutched at his hands and wrists. "By all means then, go back to Er'anir and see if you can get Kaa'Taakiir and Fi's journal on your own. Surely, your second attempt will be much more successful?"

"Y-You wouldn't--We made a deal," Maggie gasped.

"Try me. You failed the first go. Why should I hold up my end of keeping you safe from her or Takut?" She was silent. Jorath's gaze flickered to Xaal and Argia, a grimace starting to etch itself. "I... know Er'anir; we have a history."

"Is this history of yours the reason why your first thought was manipulation?" Argia inquired, to which he nodded. He released Mag'than, again rubbing at his neck as his gaze turned elsewhere. Reluctant to say anything further, it seemed. She spotted Fi'Faltuun hovering near Vaz. "What exactly happened in the Archives?"

Taathiir
"Once in awhile," they replied. "The reports have slowed over time. The last one did suggest something of a lack in interest about other cities." Occasionally, Taathiir still traveled to another city if they could make the time for it. Otherwise, they just relied on word of mouth from demons, odd supernaturals, or the rare mortal, who had left a different city to arrive at this one. Perhaps in search of different conditions or territory to claim.

As they stared at the elk, wings shifting faintly when it pawed the ground and huffed at Lucy, Taathiir did contemplate her question about its ability to speak. Gneni hadn't exactly given either of them that bit of insight. Lucy started forward, softly trying to coax Secos into a less defensive disposition. While xe didn't speak, from what they could discern, some thought or vague impression entered Taathiir's mind. It seemed to whisper about land, distinct from Taathiir's own thoughts.

A low, hollow bark carried through the air and Secos charged forward. No matter how old or powerful Taathiir was as a Collector, and even now as a Fallen, a creature weighing over 700 pounds and nearly as tall as they were at the shoulder with dangerous antlers rushing at them wasn't ideal. Mostly, Secos seemed to sprint at Lucy, and Taathiir's wings bristled, lifting up and spreading in a display to be larger. They jumped aside as the deity barreled past.

They turned, searching for the elk as it faded from sight. That hadn't been helpful. Taathiir frowned. "How do you speak with a deity that's not fully awake?" they questioned, quickly glancing at Lucy. When their gaze turned back to the ground, they stared at the small clumps of grass and flowers that had sprung into colorful existence where Secos's hooves had been. However, in another blink, those, too, faded into shriveled remains.

The elk returned, appearing before Lucy and snorting into her face. Xir ear twitched. Taathiir's eyes widened, a falter occupying the first moment of their startled response. The dead plantlife on Secos's antlers changed again, crumbling and falling to the ground as new growth began to sprout; this time, oak leaves rustled against one another. "(What is this?) What has happened to my forest? (It does not respond to me like it should.) Where are my children? (Have they left me and I been weakened?)" It echoed like the bugle and the bark from earlier, edging into Taathiir's head to tickle at their thoughts.

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Vaz & Xaal

 

“I am not fond of anyone who denies others their freedom.”

 

Rumbled Vaz, narrowed eyes fixated on her profile for a few more seconds before they flickered down to the morphing paragraphs beneath. Fi’Faltuun had not divulged the specifics of what she had said to Jorath, but she had extracted several facts and theories from their otherwise private conversation to be jotted down beneath her entry. Vaz couldn’t claim to know much about the demon, but they had witnessed enough to have already decided that they loathed her existence. 

 

“And when I look at you, and think of all she might have done...what sort of lies are locked away in your head...”

 

It was all said with a low mumble, Vaz’s resting hand over his arm beginning to tighten in a quiet rage until the scribe realised what they were doing and hastily loosened the grip once more. They looked up at him, studying his expression, before attentions began to shift away from the distraction of their Compendium and they tore themself away from such thoughts to address the new sets of eyes on the pair of them.

 

“No...no she would not respond well, I would wager. She had dreams of being a Lord when I used to work with her, she always liked taking charge of things. To think that someone has been undoing all of her hard work and authority from right under her nose...”

 

It was still a hefty risk, that much was certain. 

 

But then again, hadn’t Jorath always been the expert when it came to snatching a victory out of the jaws of defeat? Vaz couldn’t claim that they understood the mechanics of the Luck domain too well, but they had come to learn over the years that he, at least, had a certain intuition for which gambles would pay off in the long-run and which were best to leave to someone else.

 

They had been lost in a moment of contemplation, weighing up the odds of what could go wrong and how they could address it, when they realised that Fi’Faltuun had dragged out the experimental scroll once more. Vaz zoned back into the conversation just as Argia made a sudden movement towards Mag’than and clamped a hand over their mouth. Xaal repeated her go-to impolite gesture in her direction at the younger demon’s next choice of words. Vaz meanwhile bristled on the spot and unraveled their arm so that they could mash both palms sharply against the surface of the table.

 

“Do not have the audacity to claim that you can in any way, shape, or form, represent what I am thinking.”

 

Growled Vaz as Jorath surged forward to grab a fistful of Mag’than’s shirt, craning their neck so that they could then scowl at her from over his shoulder. It was far from the first time that someone had insulted Jorath’s intelligence to their face, it was practically par for the course whenever more powerful demons were involved. But such statements could still ruffle Vaz’s feathers in some format. Especially when they showed evidence of upsetting Jorath himself.

 

“I, for one, happen to think it is a rather clever plan if we can pull it off. Bait and bleed strategy.”

 

“Ugh. You’re just saying that ‘cause he said it-“

 

‘No. It is a good tactic. I have used it in stronger demon territories. If two forces are too strong to face, make them fight each other instead.’

 

Interrupted Xaal. She was now hovering over the map that Mag’than had drawn and chewing at her inside cheek in thought. It was a worrisome location to say the least, Xaal was trained in a variety of other weapons but she had always favoured her bow and a talent for sniping enemies from a distance with it. A rabbit warren of winding, underground tunnels and cramped rooms was not going to be her first choice of battlefield. She was willing to try out anything that would help to thin out the numbers of their enemies. She tilted her head towards Jorath, a bemused twitch from the corner of her mouth greeting him before she switched her attention back to Vaz.

 

‘Do you think you could convince her there is a power grab? If we meet her?’

 

“Oh yes, my speciality darling. I have all the material in the world for providing reasons not to trust that icy old toad.”

 

Chuckled Vaz. The humour faded though as the words sank in and they were forced to, for a moment, acknowledge that the majority of that evidence was based on what they and Fi had observed about Jorath. Vaz switched gears back towards his and Argia’s discussion about The Archives, hoping to focus on something else.

 

“What happened in The Archives?”

 

They eyed Jorath warily, uncertain whether his silence on the matter was by choice or not. They decided to take his earlier mentioning of it as a sign that there was something that he at least wanted to discuss about it though and slowly continued.

 

“Well...I went to freshen up while Jorath had a nap. When he awoke he summoned Mag’than to see if she had Fi’s journal yet and then-“

 

Visions of the writhing illstrund crept into Vaz’s consciousness, followed by the brief flicker of a golden chain ghosting itself over the top of it and a taste of metal to cross their tongue. Vaz swallowed, shifting their dismay for the object aside in favour of trying to decipher Jorath’s line of thought. In the corner of their eye they noticed Xaal bristle slightly, likely picking up on the anxiety that swirled within their aura. From across the table her golden eyes seemed torn between focusing on the scribe and focusing on Jorath, an accusation now lingering on her features.

 

“...Then...we...had a private discussion. I would prefer not to focus on the specifics of it but...”

 

Vaz trailed off from there, their look of apprehension melting into one of intrigue as they replayed the unpleasant, but surprisingly informative event in their mind. Perhaps...After all these centuries though? They could believe there was some lingering remnants of what The Archives had once been capable of, but surely that wasn’t enough to outright force or even entice other entities into speaking the truth of any matter. No, no, the only way it would have any affect on someone these days was...

 

Did Jorath trust them enough for that?

 

“...I received several new insights. Things I had inquired about in the past but went unanswered until tonight.”

 

In their core an unexpectedly pleasant, warm feeling began to stir. It was then answered with another, distant rumble of disapproval at the back of Vaz’s mind and quickly shoved aside for such a foolishly irrational interruption. 

 

“Well. Ahem. At any rate, I for one am willing to place my faith in Jorath and release Takut. Perhaps a vote is in order?”

 

Xaal took on her usual stance of determination, a flared-wing stance that signified she approved of the decision and was now preparing to head into battle.

 

‘Release now, make it look like an accident. Then we sneak into building while she is dazed but not expecting attack. We can speak of weapons and abilities while we walk, yes?’

 

She was already getting ready to leave, performing a few stretches to limber up as she surveyed the room. Vaz shot her an appreciative glance, before a more nervous one was sent in Jorath’s direction.

 

“Are you able to face her, given your history? I will understand if you wish to avoid it. Xaal should prove to be an adequate source of protection should I need it.”

 

 

Lucy

 

An unsure, somewhat disappointed hum answered Taathiir as Lucy continued to think about the state of things outside of the barrier. She had been hoping the decrease in news had just been a figment of her imagination. But even so, she held onto her confidence in Gneni that things were all still going according to plan. Even if it was a plan that she doubted even the chaotic deity themself was fully aware of.

 

When the elk charged, Lucy’s eyes narrowed and she stiffened in her stance. For a brief moment, she starred the massive creature in the eye and seemed to be seriously contemplating whether she was going to stand her ground against it or not. As the elk barrelled closer though the confidence faltered, Lucy instead rolling to the side at the last second and snarling out a lecture on common decency and manners in Aeiuwn. In her hands a trident began to form and she stabbed the three-pronged end of it into the ground to stabilise herself.

 

“Honestly the nerve of some entities!”

 

She scoffed as she staggered back to her feet, freeing the weapon from the muddied ground beneath her and huffing as the elk disappeared from sight. Quickly she surveyed her surroundings, her weapon rising into a more defensive stance as she searched for the strange creature. Briefly she followed Taathiir’s line of sight towards a clump of rejuvenated grass that promptly died again before her eyes.

 

“Same as any other small-time deity I reckon. Wait until they give you some cryptic advice in the form of a poem and then tell them they can shove their head up their- OOooOoh okay the moose can teleport!”

 

Lucy staggered back a step as the elk suddenly rematerialised before her. From the side her trident instinctively swept out and pressed against Taathiir’s chest and stomach, attempting to nudge them behind her while the rest of her wings stretched and flared into view. It was a powerful move when dealing with any demons or angels, who normally took one glance at the six wings upon her back and decided that even as an ex-archangel it was probably best to back down from her. Secos, however, did not seem intimidated by the gesture. If anything they looked more annoyed or confused by her presence, in as much as an elk could express any sort of complex emotion.

 

When it spoke to them Lucy’s breath hitched, the trident lowering ever so slightly as unwelcomed thoughts graced her mind. To this day, she still couldn’t help but feel a surge of distress whenever telepathy was involved. Quickly she tore her gaze from the snout of the elk directly in front of her to check for Taathiir’s reaction, calming back down when she registered that they had also heard the voice. Good, good. Vox wouldn’t demean themselves by speaking directly with a Collector, after all.

 

“Children...? Do you mean the angels that are supposed to be watching this realm?”

 

Ventured Lucy, once she had gathered her thoughts and adjusted to the fact that she would be having to deal with telepathy for at least part of the conversation.

 

“They left. All of ‘em. Well, most of ‘em. Might be one or two still lurking around the city if the reports are anything to go by.”

 

She glanced over at Taathiir for confirmation on said reports before continuing. Perhaps if they had a name or description of any for Secos it would help to anchor xem to the conversation?

 

“Actually we uh, just came here to check up on you really because of that. Rumour has it that you might be waking up to do something about this whole mess. And we’d love to know how we can help with that. Or, maybe more importantly, what’s preventing you?”

Edited by Lycanious

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[[I've been sitting on this for a couple days now. Between both writer's block and a string of headaches, I'm just not going to be able to do anything more with this post any moment soon. So, have it now, as is.]]

 

Argia / Jorath

She was sceptical but, as Argia studied the others and just how much certainty they seemed to have in comparison to her unfamiliarity, she found herself a bit inclined to agree with the strategy at hand. At least until some other idea might come up. When Vaz focused their attention upon Jorath, Argia followed suit and waited as the demon hesitated before finally answering. "I can face her. Besides," Jorath went on. "You were dragged into this when you shouldn't have been and I still don't want you near or facing off with her."

"So we're all going then," Argia stated, taking note of an expression that flickered across Jorath's features. She couldn't tell if it was confusion, curiosity, or something else as he studied the table. "Something wrong?"

He blinked. Looking to Argia, Jorath pointed at the token with Auris Domniir's logo upon it. "Is that from Taathiir?" She nodded and he reached to pick it up, flipping it over to study the other side. Given how small it was, there was only enough space for the imprint of a crow's head. "What's it do?"

"I'm not sure. Taathiir just said to tear it if we wished to speak with him sooner than whatever appointed time you and Vaz decide to set up."

Jorath rolled the token between his fingers before tossing it back to Argia after a moment. "Not a lot of demons hand out stuff like that; keep it with you."

Catching it quickly, she paused. "Why? What is it?"

He shrugged. "Could be a number of things; quick summon spell, a scrying token, message relay, or something else. No way to tell without seeing what sigils are etched between the layers. Can't do that though without activating them if it's done by tearing."

Argia nodded once, more from acknowledgement than from agreement. "Great. Love that that has been settled now," Maggie grumbled, earning an eye roll from Jorath. "Can we get going now? I think I'm getting gray hairs from standing around."

Delaying any longer was not going to be helpful, that much was at least undeniable. Leaving the station, Argia silently hoped that things would go smoothly.

Taathiir
"Angels? (Mother's favorite beings; pretentious older siblings; obnox--) Are the angels gone? They are not mine. (Mine walk the Earth with--furred and scaled and feathered and flesh and--)" Secos swayed xir head, large eyes foggy as xir gaze swept from Lucy to Taathiir, then to the land.

Edging around Lucy's wings, Taathiir moved to stand more at her side, carefully nudging the trident so that the spires weren't at their face. Secos's thoughts were still tangled together within xir telepathy, cluttering Taathiir's own head with the variety of whispers and more distinct bits of speech. It almost seemed like xe was disoriented, only a part of xem comprehending things presently taking place. Taathiir could feel themself growing dizzy from the effect of it. It took them a nauseating moment to figure out why.

Unlike Gneni, Secos apparently had an Earthly soul.

"'Preventing'?" xe continued, the word flickering more clearly than any other thoughts. "Am I waking? (When did I fall asleep? How long--)" Secos's shape began morphing once more. Xir antlers crumbled into dust, chunks landing upon the ground in the process. As xir fur lengthened and grayed, their body shrinking as ripples ran down it, the elk gradually shifted into a wolf. Xir eyes were still fogged over and the undisturbed stream of thoughts conveyed that the change occurred without xir notice. "Yes... Waking. (Blocked. Heavy.) I am trying to... Where are my children? (Gone. Can't be.)"

"Is it the absence of your children that's preventing you from waking up completely?" Taathiir was mumbling, more from the dizziness than from anything else. When they realized Secos's soul was an Earthly one, they had began to focus upon it in an effort to minimize the "leakage" of thoughts. Xir soul rested within the ground, its aura seeping upward where it met Taathiir's awareness.

"Yes... I cannot--"

As Secos responded, Taathiir reached for Lucy's arm. They loosely grabbed her wrist, allowing her access to what they sensed. "Remember to breathe slowly," they whispered to her. Gradually crouching down, Taathiir pressed their other hand upon the ground and, with a deep inhale, uttered a short incantation. Their Realm responded, its Influence entering their gaze. They blinked.

Secos's soul floated within their hand, its fire shifting through various colors. A tether wrapped itself around Taathiir's wrist, stretching to the ground and keeping them from moving away. Though Taathiir could still feel the ground beneath their feet, it had mostly faded away from their sight, lingering only in the barest of scattered patches. The mountains, similarly, nearly disappeared entirely, remaining as a faint outline against the night sky.

With xir soul in full view, the leakage of Secos's confused thoughts grew silent, allowing for a coherent string of consciousness to come through clearly. "Be quick with your questions, Lucy," Taathiir breathed out. They weren't going to be capable of holding their Sight for very long, not with Lucy as a tagalong. And she would have to do much of the speaking, their focus being required to maintain this state as long as possible.

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