Amara Cassan knelt on a dust covered stone floor, surrounded by books that were much older than she was. Though she was no child, twenty years of life could not even begin to compare with the centuries old leather bound tome that was in her hands. All around her were shelves that stretched from floor to tall ceiling, filled with books as well as jewelry, stones, and a variety of other oddities, some of which Amara had no name for. The sheer amount of knowledge and power that encircled her would astound the young woman if she had not already been in a somewhat foul mood.

The curious sparkle that had lit her ice blue eyes as she ran her fingers across the spines of texts on every subject imaginable had faded before completely dying out after the first three days of sorting through seemingly endless piles of books. Just two weeks ago she had been assigned the duty of taking inventory in the Glass Wing of the Stone Archive located just a day’s ride out of the city. The Stone Archives were, in essence, magical warehouses for the Mages’ Guild of Arenthus, well-fortified bastions of magical as well as non-magical knowledge. Each archive was a great edifice made of enchanted stone, heavily infused with magical wards, and there were many spread throughout the kingdom. After nearly a week of being in one such storehouse, Amara thought of the place as a stone prison, whose only notable contents were the excessive amount of dust she had been forced to inhale as she worked. Why she had been chosen for this task, she did not know. She was not even aware of why the Glass Wing in particular needed to be inventoried in the first place. Any polite questions she had posed had been met with glares from the bald, old magister who had informed her of her new task and given her a list of tomes from the Glass Wing that she was to return with when she was done. The old man had then gone on to inform Amara that her place as a low-ranking member of the Guild required her only to do as she was bid.

Amara had resigned herself to the sudden task with more than one frustrated sigh, and had made arrangements to travel to the archive amidst the laughs of her fellow mages for her unfortunate fate. It seemed rather like a punishment, especially considering the fact that she was the only one sent, though she had certainly done nothing to warrant it. I can only be thankful, she thought as she wrote the titles of countless books and items on parchment, that I am only responsible for the contents of the Glass Wing, and not the entire archive. The Glass Wing was just one small branch of the archive, though not small enough for Amara’s taste. Thankfully, though it had seemed almost impossible, Amara was almost finished. She was more than anxious to return the capital city of Valmyra and the Mages’ Guild itself. The Stone Archives, though heavily fortified indeed, had no guards, nor any other living souls in them at all for most of the time. The magic set in the very foundation of the archives was enough to protect the building and its knowledge, which meant that Amara had been there completely alone, and the silence was beginning to get to her.

Amara stood with a sigh, putting the things spread out beside her back in their rightful places before trying to brush off some of the dust from her knees. Looking down at her own appearance, she realized the effort was hopeless. The plain breeches and shirt she wore were covered with the grime, the pale skin of her hands covered with a fine layer of dust as well, as was her hair. Normally falling to the small of her back in waves the precise color of black ink, she had tied her hair back for the occasion, but she was certain that if she were to look in a mirror at that moment, her hair and person in general would look like they were made of dust itself. “One would think,” she muttered quietly, if only to break the silence, “that with all the magic contained in this place, there would be some spell to keep it all clean.”

Amara surveyed the lists she had created that day, glancing over everything to make sure there were no mistakes. She had been working tirelessly since she arrived, eager to finish the job and leave the place, and was more than slightly exhausted by this point. While magic may have enabled her to locate a specific book or item if she knew what she searched for, there was no spell nor old ritual that could inform her of everything that was there, and thus she was forced to take inventory manually, an aspect of her assignment she was less than fond of. She supposed she could return back to the archive’s Residential Wing and the small room she had been occupying during her stay. She had no idea what time it was however. The rooms she had confined herself to in order to complete her work were entirely windowless, perhaps it had to do with the protective wards that both kept away unwanted visitors and contained the magic within, but it only made the place seem horrible. At least the Residential Wing has windows, Amara thought sullenly.

Taking up a fresh piece of parchment, Amara headed through one of the many twisting corridors that spread throughout the archive like a web of endless passageways. She decided that she could least get a bit more work done before she rested. When she entered the next room however, her blue eyes widened in surprise. She pulled the folded map of the archive’s floorplans from the leather pack she wore to make sure. This was the last room, the only space in the Glass Wing she had not yet covered. It appeared just as the others had, windowless and filled with shelves, tables, and display cases containing all manner of items the Guild considered to be of importance. It was lit by innumerable small glowing gems set into the stonework of the walls, their magic casting an even light throughout the room. This particular chamber was not nearly as large as some of its counterparts, something Amara was extremely grateful for. With slightly renewed vigor and a determined expression, Amara set to work once again, systematically and efficiently going through everything in sight.

She was not sure how much time had passed when she settled the last few pieces back onto their shelf: a large leather bound notebook, a gilded bird statuette, a jeweled ball, and a heavy tome on ancient cultures. Finished. She was finally finished. She sank to the ground, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. She could barely keep her eyes open, and falling asleep right there on the floor was starting to look like a very promising option. For the moment she just rested against the wall, content to simply sit. Tired light blue eyes swept over the room she had just conquered. She didn’t know what it was she possibly could have done to anger the ornery old magister who had sent her here, but at least now she was done. She was just about to rise and return to her small room and bed when her gaze fell upon a small object that seemed to be tucked out of obvious sight. With a muttered curse, Amara rose and stalked over to the offending item, which turned out to be a small wooden box, picking it up and settling it less than gently on the small table it appeared to have fallen off of.

She examined the box carefully, having no clue as to what it might be. It was small, about the size of her fist, and ornate, made of a strange dark colored wood and covered in elegant carvings. She glanced over her papers, though there was nothing in the documents she had that would tell her what it was, or even if it was supposed to be in that particular room. Frustrated, she picked the box up, moving to open it only to find that she couldn’t. Amara raised the box to her eye level, trying to find a catch or release that would open the damned thing. She ran her fingers all over its surface before she found a small indentation in the wood. Amara tried to open it once more before dropping the box back onto the table with a small yelp. She examined her finger, where a small bead of blood was forming from where she had pressed it into the notch in the wood. She hadn’t seen anything sharp earlier that could have pricked her. Amara glared at the box. Her normally calm demeanor vanishing in a wave of exhaustion and frustration, she grabbed it, determined to open the wretched thing if she had to tear it in half… and it opened effortlessly, as if it had never been sealed to begin with. She narrowed her eyes in confusion as she looked at the two wooden halves before setting them down to see what exactly was inside.

Laying on a bed of dark velvet was a necklace. It was beautifully ornate, a dark ruby set in gold, hung from a fine golden chain. Amara couldn’t help but pick it up, wanting to examine it more closely. It was much heavier than one might expect from any kind of necklace. The gem was rather large, the size of the first joint of her thumb. It was framed by elegantly twisting pieces of gold that extended into complex spirals at the top and bottom of the pendant. The jewel was the color of dark wine, and seemed to glow ever so softly. She looked closer, realizing that it wasn’t a gem at all, but seemed to be a crystal vial filled with some kind of red liquid. It was the most exquisite piece of jewelry she could ever recall seeing, delicate in design yet somehow sharp and strong. It was fascinating, enchanting. Her earlier feelings of loneliness, irritation, and weariness all seemed to fade away as she gazed at the necklace in her hands. She wanted nothing more than to put it on, feel its weight. No, it was not hers to wear, but she only wanted to have it for a moment, just a moment. A distant part of her mind noted that something was wrong, that she should put down the necklace and leave, but she was unable to focus on anything other than the allure of the pendant.

With trembling hands she lifted the chain over her head and settled it around her neck, moving her hair out of the way as she did so. The necklace was long, coming to the middle of her chest. As soon as the pendant fell against her, its earlier weight seemed to vanish, and it was as light as air. For a moment there was nothing, and then Amara gasped as she felt something within her change. There was a sudden shift in the world around her. The air chilled. The steady glow of the gems in the wall flickered before dying completely, leaving her in complete darkness. Suddenly the necklace began to grow hot, and Amara cried out as it began to burn her at every point of contact. The pain was sharp and terrible, piercing through her entire person. With the pain her head became clear once more, and she clutched at the pendant, desperate to remove it, but she found she was unable to do so. In the next moment the pendant began to glow, illuminating the room once more in red. The strength of the light grew horribly bright, as if she wore a star around her neck, blinding her. And then the darkness returned all at once, as Amara crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

It had been far, far too long.

Screams of torment and repent were his constant lullaby, they sang their sorrows to the false lunar disk in the sky, one that dripped a putrid, muddied red onto the ‘earth’ below. To call it such was a bit of a mercy, the ground as it were was little more than sludgy, russet mud that perfumed this eternal night with sinful stench, not unlike rotting. The landscape went on for miles, naked torso’s drowning in the sinking mud, in various degrees of stuck, hands outstretched and tears a flow. Tree’s cropped up here and there, curled and broken splinters of barren giants. It was in the hollow of one of these damp and accursed vegetation that a noir talon tapped. There were three on the front of his feet, and one around the back, each sharp and easily scoring the wood, even with a gentle step. The colour of him, unable to be described in the cursed shadow. The red light of a substitute moon saw his form rendered in an outline, a large, perhaps even ten foot tall avian, a predatory one that could not be mistaken for anything else but an over-sized owl… before large, lucid yellows broke the darkness. They illuminated in the nightfall, two disks of sunlight in an otherwise decrepit world… and even a third, almond shaped orb opened slowly upon the creature’s brow. They contained no pupil or sclera, only the third eyeball that creaked open contained anything, and that was only a pale, faded circle of lighter yellow.

He was sick of this place. Tired of picking the wrong doings from victims and picking at their souls through bone-meal. There was nothing for those eyes to pique here, nothing new, nothing to learn from the beseeching mercy the grappling fingers and screaming lips seemed to so solemnly long for. Remarkable, how a sinner could repent for a time longer than the lifespan they spent conducting their crimes. The observation, made for the fifth time in an hour, was interrupted. Fresh crimson flooded from the moon in copious amounts, pushing the old, stagnant sludge from its surface, ran anew with bloodied promise of redemption for at least one soul in this place. His. The bodies below were all but soaked by it, but not the creature who flocked from his hide away towards the glowing light. Divine red, it was nothing more than a window for him, an escape. The silhouette of a giant owl flapped only once, before the dark being was pulled into a vision of ruby incarnate.

Free, at last.

Small claws scraped against the floor in uncertainty. White, downy feathers tickled his legs, and lead into a bird much smaller than he had ever recalled being. An avian of speckled greys and pale, faded creams and tweed. A heart shaped landscape of snowy fluff was his face, where bright gold had been replaced with two dark coals that simmered quietly in his new position. Was this…? A wing was lifted and, with the turn of a frighteningly flexible head, examined. …Was he a barn owl?

“…”

As if dismissing the notion altogether, the winged heathen turned his attention to a collapsed form, hopping towards it, her, hastily. He recognised her to be… human, if he recalled correctly, with dark strands of hair and an offensively dusty way about her… and of course, to his silent amazement, that pendant. That, accursed accessory, that ill-gotten necklace. He held no reserve in jumping ontop of her torso, collecting the talisman in a skilled, dexterous foot.

‘Awaken.’

The single word was not for the living to heed, or the departed. It was a word ‘spoken’ just for her, only for their ears, in a voice soft and masculine, almost a whisper in the air. Not for any concern of her resting position, simply because this was his volume. There was no need to, pardon the humour, but make a flap about the occurrence. He had been summoned, but curiosity, a rarity for one like himself, had struck. Why? Why he, and why this female specimen before him. She seemed, at best, a novice. His past contracts had been… more influential beings. Atleast, a little older, and not often female. …His least favourite summoning had come from them.

‘State your business. How did you come to possess this?’

He fully expected her to come too, it would seem. Poised upon her with one foot tightly bound to that pendant. He could not take it from her, it would never belong to him—and truthfully, that bothered him. This was his freedom that he held, and yet, had no grasp of it. The vial-coddling item was tossed carelessly back at her with contempt. She was weak, or, weaker than he was used to serving atleast. He could not even take on a more suiting form—stuck within the cuddly forest creature. He was thankful flight was not alien to him, it was one thing to look like this, but it was another to be graceless in it. Where was he? What was his purpose here? Had he not been fated to have been dragged from his abode every time this song and dance called to him, he might have waited for someone more capable. Still, anywhere was better than home. He just had to fathom how he intended to survive his time with this one… and if she could offer him something he didn’t know. A glance procured from the room made him wonder, was he within a curio-place? That wasn’t so terrible. There was much to be gained from knowledge, and mental stimulation was a truly wonderful pursuit. Perhaps he would have her collect his baring for him and give a clue as to his where-abouts, but something here was… familiar.

That's what he'd become. A familiar.

Amara's mind drifted. She was surrounded by cool darkness, with a feeling akin to that of being underwater. She heard a voice like a whisper, snaking through her mind, telling her to wake up, and in a moment she did, though slowly. She felt as if she were awakening from a long sleep, though the young woman in truth had been unconscious for only a few moments. Long lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes, both a blue as pale as ice, dazedly. In an instant she recalled her work, and finding the necklace. She remembered the searing pain, which seemed to have vanished by now, and the bright light, the feeling that something had been torn open, or changed. The pendant had been enchanted, and then... something had happened.

She heard that voice once more, quiet and masculine, the first person she had heard speak in over a week, and it was enough to shake the young mage from her reverie. She initially looked up, expecting to see a man, before the words that had been spoken as well as the pressure on her chest brought her attention to the bird currently standing on top of her. She stared at the creature, surprise lighting her delicate features, before sitting up, roughly pushing it from her as she scrambled back. She had intended to stand, but she was still feeling strangely weak at the moment, as if she had exerted all of her energy at once. She tried to take in her surroundings, eyes darting quickly around the room. The magical gems in the walls glowed steadily once more, and not one object seemed out of place, other than the dark wooden box, sitting open on the table where she had left it. The only true difference was the bird in front of her.

The bird in question appeared to be an ordinary barn owl, but she knew that to be false. She could feel the magical aura surrounding the creature, and she had just heard it speak, as unsettling as that was. Here was a peculiar talking bird, and it wanted to know what her business was? She looked down at the necklace the owl had spoken of, touching the strange piece of jewelry with a growing sense of dread. The vial was still warm, though rapidly cooling beneath her touch. Her hand closed around the pendant, clutching at it defensively as she looked at the bird, who despite its avian features clearly had an expression that indicated its impatience for her answer.

"State my business?" Amara echoed, her voice coming out stronger than she had expected as she tried to conceal the slight panic she felt. "I am a mage of the Arenthan Guild. And this," she continued, her voice beginning to waver with uncertainty as her grip on the pendant tightened nervously. What could she say? What should she say, especially to this unknown creature, that pulsed with dark energy. "I found it," was all she managed, quietly. "It is the property of the Mages' Guild. What manner of creature are you, to enter this place?" she asked. "The wards of the Stone Archives are not so easily broken."

Amara was not a fool, and she knew that somehow the jewel around her neck had caused this. She had caused this, and she desperately hoped the suspicions she had about the whole situation were incorrect. If the creature before her was... dark... as she guessed it to be, just by sensing the magic it gave off in small yet steady waves, why had it not attacked her? Were the archive’s wards keeping it at bay, despite having allowed the creature entrance in the first place. Could the owl have already been inside the archive, going unnoticed? She could feel the magic around them, could sense the remnants of whatever had taken place once she put on the necklace. Whatever had occurred had been strong, but it felt different and utterly alien, unlike any spell or ritual she had experienced in the past.

'State your business.'

The avian copied her question with a quiet persistance. Despite the calm of his voice, one unhurried and lacking any true inflection, he had a way of seeming pushy in his manners. His wings flapped in practiced succession, he had not been expected to be shoved from her, but the recoil from such was not unknown to him. The creature hovered his patient descent onto the floor, and listened with neither a word nor movement until she had finished her train of thought. One could have mistaken him for a stuffed specimen, until those dark, directionless eyes were taken over by a white flash-- the membrane that owls used for blinking. A decidedly haunting, and perhaps disguisting thing to witness when the beiged animal seemed to draw it out more than the average specimen.

This was a Mage. Of the Arethan Guild. She had found that pendant, however...

'False. It does not belong to any guild.'

The retort was almost reflexive in it's speed, despite the creatures stillness. He disdained anything that strayed from fact, and here, within these walls, he was sure there were many instances. Mortals were fallible that way. 'It belongs to you, Mage of Arenthan. You have accessed it, and myself.' What manner of creature was he. A fleeting temptation crossed his mind, and if owls could, he would have smiled at the mage. 'I am a barn owl.' From what he could gather, anyway. Without any pre-warning, the avian leapt into the air and adjusted his height with his wings, until the table was clicked under swift, keen talons.

'It is to my understanding the mortals of this world prefer monikers as method of introduction. From now on, I will be known as Eirikur to you. I am many things, but to mages, I hold arcane knowledge. Many have called upon me, as you have, for wisdom and servitude, bound to them by soul and magic. Given this... unremarkable form that you would have me take, suggests you are by far the most juvanile of my contractors. No matter. I am more than able to change that.'

It would serve them both better in the long run to see this mage rise through the ranks. He wasn't returning home soon, and she wasn't getting rid of him any faster. Wards, this building had wards. How troublesome. In this condition, such things would go through him like a ton of bricks. 'I require your assistance, then. Fetch me a mage like yourself. One who is yet to develop their talents. It's in your best interest-- should I fall, I will take you with me to my abode-- and rest assured, my mage, it is a terrible fate. Or so the occupents tell me, with their insecant lamenting.' It took less energy getting back than it did getting out, and the owl was certain neither of them wished to arrive in such a place. He'd be bored, and she'd be...

Well. Best not to dwell on such cruelties.

Footsteps echo'd close. Owls had exceptional hearing, and this one was no different. It's head twisted towards the doorway, and there it awaited her actions expectantly. All she had to do was apprehend a body for him. This, he considered, would prove interesting. Now, the sound of footfalls was more than audiable, and what else would appear before them than...

He was tall. Perhaps sit foot or so, one of those lithe, self assured men. Light of hair, a toned blonde with dark depths-- and a smarmy smirk. Tobias was a renowned creature in the guild, not for his magical prowess or studious offers (he had neither), but for his... awful character. Women and men hated him alike, and anything that was not fortunate enough to be human? Slandered-- infact, anything that didn't step up to his standards often was. Amara, lucky thing that she was, did meet his approval-- in the form of asthetics, atleast. "Don't tell me they're keeping a beauty like you locked away in here, Amara..." He didn't know her, but she was fair. That ment she was as good as his-- who could say no to such a man? Was he not dashing? He seemed to think so, atleast. The male grazed tanned fingertips through his own short, blonde tresses. "Fancy taking a trip down the taverns with me? I promise, it'll be lots of fun."

'Do you know of a private place within the wards?'

This one would do nicely. He was weak in almost every sense, and Eirikur wagered, would fit in quite nicely back home.

'Redirect him to this place. He'll have to suffice.'

Amara listened to the haughty tones of the barn owl’s explanation with narrowed eyes as it flew up onto the table, looking down at her with what appeared to be no small amount of condescension and disdain. She could feel her strength returning to at last, though far too slowly, and Amara pushed herself to her feet. Her vision was momentarily spotted with black, causing her to stumble, but she supported herself with one hand against a bookshelf, waiting for the nausea to pass.

There was a terrible sinking feeling within her as she listened to the barn owl. It said she had called upon it, and Amara’s worst suspicions were realized with haunting clarity. She slowly grabbed the necklace that now hung from around her neck, the truth of the situation hitting her fully. She could still feel the traces of dark magic pulsing slowly from the necklace, tying her to the creature. It felt heavy, and eerily final.

“I am no summoner of demons,” she protested scornfully, glaring weakly at the owl… Eirikur... from where it perched.

The little remaining color in Amara’s complexion drained completely as the creature informed her that she would end up in a hell world unless she gave over another mage… Demons lie, she told herself. They twist their words to get you to do their bidding. All mages know this. And if the owl’s words were true? She would be thrown into a hell dimension, the worst fate imaginable for all practitioners of the arcane arts.

...But to give the demon another mage like her? She doubted the demon would do anything other than harm the poor soul she betrayed, and yet… No, how could she even think of doing such a thing merely to save herself. And even if I did consider it, she added mentally, there aren’t any other mages for miles, and certainly no others in the Stone Archive.

Her train of thought was disrupted when she saw the owl move from the corner of her eye. It was looking towards the door, and for a moment she believed it meant to flee, until she heard the footsteps it must have reacted too as well. Amara’s eyes widened. Someone was coming, but how could that be true? Amara was supposed to be the only person there, and if anyone saw her now… She’d be ruined. To summon a demon was to break the most basic laws of the Guild of Arenthus. Yes, it had been an accident, but regardless, if she was found out she would face the most severe of punishments.

Demonic summonings were not common, and Amara had only witnessed the consequences of one such event years ago, when she was but a simple apprentice. The mage in question had been sentenced without a trial, stripped of his magic and left in the resulting excruciating pain to rot, confined to a dungeon deep underground where no light could ever reach it. It was a kind of hell all on its own. Trapped between two unbearable fates, Amara could feel herself making the decision just as the footsteps neared the entrance. She had to conceal this act. She wiped the emotions from her face, stepping in front of the owl to hide it from view. She had schooled her features into a calm mask by the time the figure finally entered the room.

Tobias Alcorn, she realized with distaste. Amara had already resigned herself to condemning whichever poor soul was unlucky enough to wander in at such an inopportune moment, but if the soul in question was Tobias Alcorn’s… Well, she could think of few among her peers she would rather offer to the demon anyway.

“Tobias? I had no idea the Guild was sending more people down here.” She hesitated ever so slightly before continuing. “I would love a trip to the taverns, actually.” It was difficult not to roll her eyes at the self-assured leer on his face, trying to hold onto the polite, emotionless expression she had learned from years of dealing with other mages at the Guild. “First, however, I hope you might help me move a few boxes around? There are some books I was asked to get from this wing, but they’re just a bit heavy for me. I’m certain they would be no problem for you though,” she said, playing to his easy sense of superiority.

Tobias did not disappoint, giving her a toothy grin she expected was meant to be charming. “Of course I’d be willing to help a little dove like you.”

She smiled in turn, heading towards the door. “Great, the boxes are just down this way.” She discreetly motioned for the demon to follow. Tobias had not even noticed the owl behind her; his eyes had been much too busy directing untoward looks at Amara. If Eirikur needed a private place within the wards, she could deliver it.

Amara led Tobias through the labyrinth like passageways she had come to memorize within the Glass Wing during her time there, until they came into a small, mostly bare room of stone, occupied by broken statues and shelves of books that were old and yellowed. The room was all but forgotten in the Stone Archive, and though Amara did not know how many others Tobias had arrived with, there was no chance of discovery here. Amara’s ice-like eyes hardened. She realized with a sense of finality that there would be no turning back from this path she now found herself on.

Amara, the bird re-counted. This was her moniker. He'd never quite understood names-- not like a human, anyway. They were tokens of individuality, they defined a person-- but to him, it seemed more like numbers on live stock, a means to identification, than having any aesthetic or representation attached. Eirikur was one of many things he had been labelled with, and, the most likely to blur into society. The avian stood statue-esque behind her, happy enough to merely listen to human conversation. They were such... simple minded things. How nice for them, he supposed.

'You mortals say demon the same way you say vermin. I assure you, Amara, I am no small matter.' It hurt his pride to think someone would consider him a little, petty hell spawn. He wasn't some familiar of an arch-demon, he WAS the arch-demon. They'd written scrawlings about him-- amusing ones, recounting their final departures, but all the same. His downy legs almost comically hobbled along the stone pathways, more discreet than flapping his way down the hall. It felt like an eternity would pass him until signs of progress showed themselves, and he considered himself a fortunately patient creature. He had to be, mortals took forever to do anything. Finally, privacy. Well, not completely, Amara was there, but he was in little position to be finicky. 'At last. You know the basics of equivalent exchange, don't you, Amara?" An eye for an eye, as it were. If the owl wanted a puppet body, he'd have to give something of equal value.
Tawny wings spread.

With them, darkness. The room gave way to nightfall, a fake disk served as a moon and the ground, little more than black sludge of which gnarly, rotten trees grew. Hands grasped for anything around them, Tobias, Amara, but none would dare touch the bird. It was unwise to sully his feathers with laments. Their bloodied, nail-less fingertips grasped all they could, with varying degrees of urgency, but only one body would be pulled under the murky earth, their to wallow in his sins for the rest of time.

Just like that, the vision was gone-- and too, was Tobias.

Left in his place a pale youth, a young man perhaps in his early twenties, pallor with blonde strands that fell across his face, over serious, aesthetic features. The humanoid struggled to stand from it's fallen position, smooth muscles of washboard build flexed and contracted like poetry in motion to see the demon stand upon two legs once more. If he were to have a mortal form, after-all, why not have one of the best? No one else expected inferior goods when bartering, and nor did he. Despite the pale, gentle smooth of his complexion, and the natural vibrancy of his hair, one thing stood out. His eyes, black of iris and pupil, not unlike the bird he had previously been. The eyes of something demonic, no doubt. "Much better. I should think myself able to traverse, now." Now that there was something coming between himself and mages, a spare body.
Of course, he had to dance around a little to fit into the clothes Tobias had no doubt graciously left him. Eirikur hadn't been around in a while, but he was quite certain humans did not streak. "So, Amara. Now that you've summoned me, what shall you do?" Apparently Tobias did not matter, already a faded thought to the owl. He was annoying, anyway, but Eirikur didn't have to justify himself. "Our bonding, you see, isn't something you just throw away, or pick up whenever it suits your fancy. If you don't find some way to occupy me, I'm bound to find my own thing to do. After all, it's your soul that'll be dragged in with Tobias, should things go awry for you." It wasn't a threat, either, it was a guarantee. Of course, Eirikur didn't want to go back, but he omitted that part, if solely to coerce her into obeying. He was a demon, after all, she should have expected nothing less from him.

"I suppose you can start by showing me to my abode. Mortal bodies tire easy, and I believe we have much to discuss in privacy. Such as our terms, and what should become of them. We'll be seeing alot of each other over the coming days." He wanted to add on months, but... would be make it that long? Did she have what it took to turn her own world upside down-- well, it already had been, she probably already knew that much. Soft footsteps rounded towards her, a hand motioned forth to take her own, before the suppleness of his fingertips raised her hand to silk petals in a chaste kiss. It was a greeting he had been taught, but never had truly utilized. "I'm sure we'll get along fine once we become acquainted, Miss Amara."

Demons were terrific liars.

They knew exactly when to tell the truth, after all.

"I'm yours, t'ill death do you part."

The way he whispered those words almost promised them.

Amara had watched as the Archive's room gave way to a twisted hell. She had seen the raw horror on Tobias' face, an expression she was sure matched her own as lifeless hands had grasped at her, trying to pull her in as well. However, they had not. Only Tobias had suffered that fate. Amara stood once more in the dusty, silent room, shuddering as she tried to shake the last vestiges of the terrors. Despite the almost suffocating silence of the moment, the echoes of tormented cries still rang through Amara's mind. She straightened completely, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, trying to clear her mind. She needed her wits about her, needed to evaluate and control the situation. At first she looked to herself. Should she not feel despair, or crushing guilt? Amara was not sure, though in the moment she felt only hollow emptiness.

She looked over at the demon beside her as he spoke, now in a voice that was no longer simply in her mind. Her gaze was immediately drawn to his eyes, a sharp contrast to his coloring and unnerving in their darkness. Even more disquieting than his eyes were the words he voiced. What was she to do with him now? What was she to do in general? She had summoned a demon, and there would be no undoing that, not with the bond they now shared.

She was startled from her reverie once he took her hand to his lips. His words sounded like a deadly promise, his eyes unreadable. Amara resisted the urge to touch her hand where he had kissed it. Her face seemed dispassionate, but her eyes swirled with complicated emotion: mistrust, defiance, malice, perhaps a bit of fear.

"No one can ever know," were the first words she said. "It cannot be brought to light that I have summoned a demon. Within the Guild, within the country, it is taboo. Therefore... we... must conceal it at any cost." It had been less than an hour and already the costs had been proven high.

She looked at him firmly, eyes calculating. "If you need a way, as you say, to keep yourself occupied, you will assist me. There are many tasks I must perform as a mage of the Guild, and you will have to accompany me." She could not risk letting the creature leave her side, though she did not exactly want him near her either. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She had long since passed exhaustion, the weariness seemed to pervade her very core.

"If I was going to be stuck with you, you could have at least come a week ago and helped me sort through all this mess," she muttered irritably. "Anyway," she continued. "My work at this place is done, we will rest for the night and leave here just after dawn tomorrow. I live at the Guild in Valmyra, the capital city. It is about a day's ride from where we are now..." Eirikur would have to take Tobias' horse, she decided. And then, once they reached Valmyra... Amara did not even want to think on such things. One matter at a time, she told herself.

"Terms can be discussed tomorrow morning, once we set out. For now... try to avoid any contact with anyone you may see here other than myself." The stone archive was a large place. It was a wonder Tobias had come across them at all, and if Amara was lucky they would be able to sleep, pack, and leave before they ran into another person. After all, Tobias surely had not come alone, but the last thing Amara wanted was to encounter yet another member of the guild before she had a chance to figure this all out. Trying not to show her weariness, Amara turned to lead them to the Residential Wing. Perhaps the god of dreams had a strange sense of humor, and she would awaken tomorrow to find the demon nothing more than a horrid product of her imagination. Amara sighed. It was a nice sentiment, however obviously false.

"So it shall be, my Lady." No one would know of their bond, ill-fated thing that it was. He stood perfectly politely, a paragon of specimens, not a hell-raiser, no, a well-adjusted young man was that of which stood before her. No one would be any the wiser to him, he was sure. Not when he was trapped in his humanoid form. "I will assist you. For the record, I would have enjoyed nothing more than to be here a week ago. I love knowledge, especially reading. Books are a passion I've often been denied." Under many excuses, normally revolving around the fact that serf's did not read. It would draw attention to him. It would make others question him. Perhaps it was wrong to hope that she would indulge his love of information, perhaps, even with this mage in her current, juvenile form, would have something more to teach him. She was, after all, no doubt one of the weakest to come across such a bond as his. "Must we ride by horse?" The words were near spat out, and for good reason, in his mind."I detest the creatures. You may travel by horse, I have wings. I will fly to our destination."

He knew the form of an owl wasn't far away for his abilities.

"I will take this opportunity to inform you that rest remains beyond my capabilities." He was unable to sleep. The once-avian followed his newest victim with a quiet, practised gait. Urgent, but soft, dark eyes constantly upon her, unblinking and unwilling to leave. "I can pack your belongings while you rest. I trust there's nothing that my lady would not wish to befall upon my eyes-- after all, we have a very special bond. I'm sure no secrets shall come between us." He seemed to expect nothing but the best from her-- and perhaps thought it vice-versa. How else could he protect her from this terrible fate she'd set upon herself? Himself, too, if they should foul up.

"While we walk, tell me. Do you have relatives? What kind of abode are you in? What of your friends? If I am to guise myself, I may well pretend that we are well acquainted. Since, I doubt it wise to allow you to leave my sight for long. A glance in the wrong direction, and you are conjuring creatures by accident and costing uncouth males their lives. Really, my Lady, what am I to do with you?" Anyone would think he was joking, but... the serious nature of his face said it all, he was either a master at masking his mirth or he wasn't joking in the first place.

"You aren't affiliated with the priest sector of mage-work, are you? That could prove to be rather detrimental. To both of us, such magic could cause quite a stir in our agreement, and then neither of us will get what we want-- which reminds me, my Lady, what DO you want from me? Am I to be nothing but a go-get-me for the remainder of your existence?" He'd rather hole himself back up in Hell were that the case. Perhaps she'd show him more of mage work-- but at this point, there was so little left to be learnt. "I could show you a few simple incantations, though wither you'd wish to pursue such a path..." Her back would be against the wall soon enough. He left the thought path there and then. "Well. We'll see what becomes of you, ultimately. You should rest, however. I am to understand such a thing as yourself suffers from a strange mental illness called 'stress'. Apparently it's commonplace to suffer under such a thing. Fear not. There are many others like you." ...Was that his best attempt at trying to reduce said physiological trauma? Clearly, he wasn't well practised in it. "Dried lavender plant should aid you, so I've come to understand."

Amara laughed tiredly. "I'd have loved to have been here just to read, but I did not truly get a chance to look through any of the books since I arrived. Well, the Guild's library cannot rival the sheer amount of books that are contained within these walls, but their collection is very extensive all the same. I'm certain you'll be able to find some to your liking. And why would you detest horses?" she asked, glancing at him incredulously in response to his rather vehement statement. Amara was so occupied with wondering what exactly the demon could have against horses that his next words caught her off guard.

"You... do not sleep at all?" Do any demons sleep, she wondered curiously. In truth, Amara knew very little about demons. Too little. How could she be expected to control a situation such as this when there was so much information she lacked. Even if it was a detail as seemingly insignificant as one regarding a demon's sleeping habits, the thought that she may be missing knowledge she needed was disquieting. She could not even consider asking Eirikur about the matter. Even if he did not lie, it would only make her seem weak. She resolved to research demonic lore as soon as she returned. The more Amara could learn about demons and the magic that bound her to Eirikur, the better. Despite the exhaustion she felt dragging her down with each step, she was not sure how she would ever be able to fall asleep knowing that he would be there. No, she was not worried about him going through the small amount of belongings she had brought with her, and she knew that the magical bond they shared prevented either of them from directly harming the other, but even so, Amara had the distinct sense that her life would be much less comfortable from that day onward. Amara had always been a rather solitary person and quite fond of her privacy, privacy that would largely disappear with Eirikur's presence.

She turned to glare when he mentioned her... mistakes from that day, briefly meeting his dark gaze before quickly turning her head forward. She answered his questions as patiently as she could. Amara was not the sort to speak about herself, and it felt awkward to do so now, though she recognized the need for him to have at least some information about her if any of this was to work. "I have an older brother, Kellan, and a father who live far to the north of Arenthus, as well as a small number of more distant relatives to the northwest. My family are merchants and landowners. Since I left for the capital I rarely see them however, given the distance," she told him. Amara had been raised in a rather wealthy family, though she had left them behind ten years ago when she had come to the academy in Valmyra. She had been close to them, especially to her brother when she was younger. It was strange to realize that she had not even thought of them in some time.

Amara cleared her throat and continued briskly. "I occupy a small suite of rooms at the Guild. I have two friends whom I am close to, mages like myself, a young woman and man, both twenty, the same age I am." They had met when they were ten and just beginning their studies at the academy, and the three had become close. They were not together as often in recent days, now that they all had their own lives and responsibilities within the Guild. "It would be best if you pretended we have some kind of previous acquaintance," she agreed, "and I suggest you say you come from the North as well."

"Priest work?" she asked with a small laugh. "Do not worry, that type of magic does not suit me in the slightest. I've neither the proper motivations nor the proper temperament for it. One of the two friends I mentioned does happen to work in that area, but my work tends to be more general," she added absentmindedly. Lyna had gravitated toward the work of healing and religion from early on, as Orin had gravitated toward the study of plants, but for Amara it had proven... difficult to find a specific niche. Amara had possessed an unusually high sensitivity to magic from a young age, and had always had a particular talent for arcane energy, warding, and some elemental magic. The combination had led her to a number of varying tasks and many kinds of work within the Guild.

The two had been walking quite a ways through the twisting labyrinth-like halls, and they soon entered the large hall that contained the room Amara had been staying in for the past week, thankfully without running into any others along the way. As they reached the heavy wooden door, Amara turned to stare at her companion fully. "I do not want anything from you, Eirikur," she stated. It was the first time she had spoken his name, and it seemed almost strange to her. "If I am lucky, which has not been the case thus far I admit, I will find a way to undo... this," she said, gesturing to the blood red pendant that hung from her neck. "Until then, I imagine you will be doing much the same things I will. And I assure you, I will not perish from stress," she told him, rolling her eyes ever so slightly as she turned and opened the door.

The space was rather small, with her few belongings spread about, simple yet well made furniture, a single bed occupying one corner of the room, and a wooden chair on the opposite side. It suddenly seemed much smaller to Amara with two people inside however. A small table was against the wall, piled high with books Amara had taken an interest in while there, mostly on history and magical lore. She had planned on bringing one or two back with her, they would not be missed. She supposed if Eirikur was to pack her things, as strange as the notion seemed to her at the moment, there was nothing for her to do. "I would ask that you withhold any further questions until tomorrow, and I shall do the same." It was not long before she all but collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to change out of the clothes she had worn that day. Despite her fatigue, it would be some time before the unease she felt allowed her to finally fall asleep.