“Hello Nadim.” Azel’s tone was as cheerful as always, the tone of a man who had plenty to eat, plenty to drink and plenty of cash in his pocket for whatever else he might need or want. A man content with life, perhaps a little too much. “How is it going?”
“Hello, Azoth. I’m calling to update you on that angel you wanted me to keep an eye on.”
“Oh yes, Jasper. Lovely chap, though I suppose it’s too much to hope for that he’s kicked the bucket?”
Nadim chuckled quietly. “I’m afraid he hasn’t.”
“Damn it.”
“But you were right to assume that he’s connected to those “Angels of Faith”. I had a vision yesterday where he would help Miss Delmira and from what I can see on the CCTV footage, it came true.”
“Oh, wonderful. So the trap actually worked. Did the little firefly survive?”
“Yes, and she was helped by Ian Snyder and Jasper Dial.”
“Oh, those two working together now?”
“No, I don’t think so. It seemed to be a coincidence.”
“Hmm, I see. And what about his future actions, Nadim?”
“Yeah, I can’t see any threat to you in the next 8 hours ahead.”
“Good, let’s hope we keep it that way. Get in touch if you have something new. Now if you can please pass me onto Alex.”
“Okay.” His Clairvoyant said.

Alexander was another one of his underlings, a middle-aged Tamer with a balding head and a string of bad mistakes behind his back. Azel had been quite lucky to find him - he had enough dirt to his name to make him a very motivated employee. Not a willing one like Nadim but Azel liked variety. He’d chosen the angel because of the irony of a man called “Alexander” being his little underdog. It still made him smile now, months later.

“Hello, Alexander, have you had any luck with treating Sharkface yet?
“No.” The angel said dryly. “And I’m not sure if I ever will at a distance.”
“Oh don’t give up now. I have high hopes for you. I heard you did a pretty good job with our little firefly?”
“Your little firefly has a name.”
“Oh yeah…” He played dumb. “What was that again?”
“Roanne Delmira. And I don’t think you’ve achieved anything with your little trap, all it did was induce an injury that was healed just as quickly. And potentially form a new alliance.”
“Oh my dear, but you’re missing the point! It’s not about the injury, it’s about her faith. The Wings of Faith have this charming old-worldly notion that ‘faith’ has anything to do with their powers. And perhaps it does, who knows? I’m certainly not an angel, I wouldn’t be able to vouch for it one way or another.
“I think you should leave her alone.”

Azel’s grin couldn’t be contained anymore and it almost split his face in two as it broke out.
“What a wonderful world it would be if what we thought mattered, Alex! Then perhaps your whole kind would be eradicated out of existence with a quick thought and we could all live happy and undisturbed ever after. Now that’s a fairytale I’d like to read. But tell me, don’t you think it would be amazingly interesting to shake little firefly’s faith?”
“What I think would be amazingly interesting would be for you to come talk to me face-to-face one of these days. The things I would do to you are hard to explain over the phone.”

Azel’s grin retreated a bit but his good mood was unaffected. Toying with Alex was the whole point, the angel didn’t realise. He could have found someone willing easy enough, greed knew no boundaries. But to have control over someone that could break you in the blink of an eye? Now that was a completely different thrill.

“Stick around long enough and you might get your chance. Well,... not like you have a choice anyway. Little Tara isn’t as scary as her father after all.”
He thought he could actually feel the heat of the other man’s rage melt the plastic of the phone in his hand.

“Oh yes, I will. It’s the thought of that moment that helps me sleep at night.”
“I bet it helps you jerk off too!” Azel laughed viciously.
He’d crossed the line, he knew. But it was precisely the sweetness of that freedom that proved Alex’ worth. It was also why they never had, and never would, meet in person.
The line was dead quiet for a few long moments. Nadim had probably evacuated from the office already. But Azel knew that when he posed his next question, he would get an answer. After all, Azel had made sure he has enough on the man to make him a good little bitch.

“So back to business. Any success with any of the demons we pouched from Jasper’s ‘clinic’?”
The venom in the angel’s voice was so poignant he could taste it.
“I told you already, there’s not enough left of their personality in those bodies for them to even be worth the risk of trying. He might still be linked to them, if I probe any deeper he might be able to track me down.
“And you’re sure you’re not just scared of trying?”
“No, I’m not you.”
“So who can we use then?”
“One- you could go there and have a word with him yourself - nothing indicates that they have a way of detecting essence.”
“Out of the question.” Azel snapped. “I’m not going anywhere near that man.”

“Okay then,” Alexander continued, sounding vaguely smug. Azel’s eye twitched. “He also has a bunch of humans working for him - they’d be your easiest choice.”
Now the angel was just messing with him. He knew very well that the demon wouldn’t risk getting on the Peacekeepers’ bad side - he just liked to rub it in. Azel didn’t give him the satisfaction and waited for the other to continue. “But of course there’s also the option of setting a trap, like you did with Roanne.”
“Right. And he won’t figure it out, surely. How about one of his lackeys? Nadim has seen demons going out of his “clinic” and coming back carrying others, often passed-out humans or demons.”
“Yes, I looked into that. Yesterday I managed to peer into the memory of one of them but again, he was too broken to be of any use. I can tell you something is being done in there, what exactly - I have no idea.”
“Well, keep working on it then.” The demon instructed and killed the line. Ideally, Alexander would find a way to get his grip around one of Jasper’s closest minions and that would give them a good idea of what the deal was with that clinic. Less-ideally, he could actually decide to team up with the “doctor” to get his revenge on Azel. What would he do then? Would he really go as far as killing Alexander’s daughter?

We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. He decided, yawning and opened his email. Scanning through the messages he spotted something that wasn’t spam and opened it. It was from Marcus, a remarkably likeable hacker and it held two links with a brief “you’ve gotta see this xDxDxD!”.

The first link was a news feed about some baby that had fallen from the 13th floor onto a passerby and miraculously survived. Azel’s eyebrows rose but it wasn’t until the second video that he understood why he was watching this. It was one of those typical things you see on youtube, someone less bothered about the incident and more bothered about their Youtube fame.

“How did you do that?!” A reporter was asking, shoving the microphone in the face of the young hero who looked supremely uncomfortable.
“Well… I kind foresaw it and...”
“You foresaw it? Could you be a [i][b]Clairvoyant angel[/i][/b]?!”
“Well, y-yes...”
“What?! Really?! Can you foretell my future?!”
“Um, no, that’s not how it works… for me.. I can only see a few minutes ahead...”
“Really? So if I had to pick a scratchcard, you’d be able to tell the winning one?!”
“What?” The girl’s eyes suddenly stopped glancing at the gathering crowd and focused on the reporter.
“Tim, are you shooting this? We need some scratch cards!”
“Are you saying that this is more important to you than that little child over there?” The girl’s face was priceless and for a moment Azel could swear she’d punch the reporter.
His thumb paused the video, taking a good look at the angel. Pretty, no doubt about that, but even more importantly - useful.

He returned the phone to his pocket and turned around to smile at Hazumi.
“Looks like you might have a chance after all, princess.”

As he walked down the Academy’s dim-lit corridor Andri couldn’t help but notice how empty the space was. Even the usual chatter of the students seemed distant, otherworldly, irrelevant. Perhaps it was his tired mind playing tricks on him - he hadn’t slept again but he suspected that he did pass out a few times in the daytime.

But maybe the space truly was abandoned. After all, Lazarus was back in town and with a man of his calibre, you never knew what might happen, even if he was supposed to be on your side. Students at Master Melody’s rarely feared their teachers. But they learned quickly when to step back too. And word got out.

Andri reached the office and slipped in after a knock, closing the door quickly behind him. The nature of the problem required secrecy. Murder was picking up in Loom even without Hazumi being officially pronounced missing.

The man was already there, waiting for him and the weapon was firmly at his side.

“It’s me.” The Wielder said, probably out of instinct than necessity. It wasn’t the first time for him to visit Lazarus’ office… but the circumstances now were entirely different.

Dinner with Ian had gone more or less as expected, he was still hurting from the disappearance of all the people in his life. Which had left the man who really should have been his son in law a complete mess. Little surprise that he had taken to gunning down angels doing arms dealers and terrorists. Folding his arms Lazarus kicked his feet up on the desk and leaned back in his chair.

It was amazing that the academy had largely left his office alone. Maybe it was something about his reputation. No one wanted to take it over perhaps? Regardless the necromancer looked at the clock and pursed his lips. Absent mindedly he manipulated the pummel of Dracul.

As the kid stepped into his office he snorted at the comment. “That certainly identifies you now doesn’t it?” Lazarus chuckled over the top of his interlaced fingers. It was funny to see how the students had progressed in his absence which really hadn’t been too long. Leaning forward he gestured and his will wrapped itself around one of the chairs in front of his desk and turned it for Andri. “So pitch me it, what exactly do you want from me?”

Andri’s eyebrows rose at the question. The man was clever, he had to give him that. Then again, he probably wasn’t the first student to want something in return to his services. He approached the offered chair cautiously, certainly with more respect than he’d had for the principal the other day. He had to wonder if it was all to do with Lazarus being a famous necromancer or if it had to do with his curse.

There was something animalistic clawing inside him, putting his senses on high alert and his body ready to seize up in defense. He was painfully aware of the tension behind Lazarus’ casual tone, of the darkness pooling at the back of his eyes. Perhaps it was the demon making him hyper-aware. Or maybe it was a defence mechanism all of the students here developed.

No, not all. Just the good ones. The ones that survived.

Sitting down, Andri glanced at Dracul before settling his gaze at the desk. Truth was, when he first made that phone call he was ready to do whatever it takes to get Lazarus to help him on his quest. He thought that talking face-to-face would aid that goal.

But circumstances had changed since then. Oni_desho?! had updated him on Lucien’s status and that lead all the way up to freaking Heaven. Well out of reach, even if it wasn’t for the curse.

But it was for the curse as well… He’d had at least one more blackout today, making it a grand total of three to gods-know-how-many in only five days. He was seriously starting to question his abilities.

“Do you have any idea where Hazumi is?” He broke the silence with a question of his own, levelling his eyes on the older man.

Lazarus pursed his lips at the question. It was not what he had hoped to hear from the young man given that he truly didn't have a clue himself. Pushing up from the chair he walked over to the window overlooking the street in Loom that ran past the outer edge of the Academy.

“If I knew that then don’t you think I’d be out there somewhere looking for her? Frankly I had hoped you might have more of a lead given the whole vision thing.”

Extending his sense Lazarus opened his eyes to the flow of essence around him. So much death. The city was wallowing in it. The spirits of the dead no longer found rest and it was weighing on the world. This place sorely missed its mother and with Hazumi gone there was no one left capable of regulating the mess. Pushing deeper he tugged on the essence around him reeling in the emotions, the pain the suffering from Loom tasting it. In just a few weeks the city had already begun to go to hell. Maybe Judas had been onto something when he had tried to subjugate the world. Maybe there had been a purpose to it all. When the world was this vulnerable perhaps it had needed a protector.

Under his breath he whispered “Forgive me, sometimes I falter.” The words were aimed at a great many people who had come before him and those whom he had left behind. Turning back to the boy he exhaled slowly.

“Where do you think we should start? I may not be Solus Grim but I’m hardly a pushover.”

Andri’s eyes followed the man cautiously and his sensitive hearing couldn't help but catch the troubling admission he would rather not have heard. He wished he was a first year then, innocent and capable of putting his whole trust in men like this. Things were endlessly more complicated now that he could see the shadow they cast.

Matthew had been a first year. Bianca - second. Now they were merely “Lucien’s latest victims”. Andri’s nails dug into the soft of his hand, feeling the rage reach for his throat. When Lazarus turned he unclenched his fist and tried to calm down. Lucien was out of reach now. Nothing he could do about it. Focus on the present.

“It's complicated.” Andri started, distantly wondering if anyone ever had mistaken Lazarus for a push-over. The man could see essence so what he was about to say would probably come as no surprise. It didn't make it much easier. “I got Hazumi's message through my fragment, Ashley. She says she had a twin sister that remained in Hazumi when the shards were created. Apparently this allowed them to communicate though it must have been Hazumi's intention as it's never happened before. Technically this should allow us to track her as well, right?” Now for the tough bit.

Andri pulled his sleeve up and laid his arm on the desk, staring at it as if it was some alien specimen. It sort of looked like one too. The thin grooves that normally appeared on his skin when he fought had deepened and reddened, the skin looking rough and infected although he felt no pain. It had also thickened, now closer resembling reptilian hide. The nails on that hand had also changed.

His mouth was dry. Be less dramatic, damnit! “Ashley is a Guardian angel, she’s bond to my soul… but now there's a demon in there as well. I was bitten by a hellhound a few days ago and things are not looking good.” He tried to sound as casual about it as all the medical staff he'd spoken to so far. “I know it's taking over. I can feel it at Ashley's throat. I have a… nasty reaction when I try to use her. So… I'm not sure how I can help you. I'd like to, for my own sake as well, but as you can see… So I was hoping that maybe you'd come up with something.” It was scary, he couldn't deny it. He was offering his help to a man who would probably do anything to save his beloved. But in the end it wasn't Andri’s essence that mattered, it was Ashley's. It wasn't unthinkable for Lazarus to try and just take her forcefully… given that she didn't have a physical form but was bond to his essence instead… human souls were notoriously fragile.

His hand trembled in nervous anticipation but he didn’t pull it back. He wouldn't go down without a fight. But he really hoped one wouldn’t ensue.

Frowning Lazarus stood up and unbuckled Dracul. With a fluid motion he drew the sword and set it on the desk. It was easier to work with the sword when it wasn’t getting in the way of his movements or if he was using it to direct magic. Stepping back from the desk he made a quick gesture with his right hand and hauled the desk around a full ninety degrees with sheer force of will and essence making Andri jerk his hand off in the last moment. Hooking his right foot around his chair, Lazarus pulled it along after him as he stepped forward. The chair was a high back open armed chair and it became immediately apparent why the eccentric mage kept it in his office. Stepping through the arms he sat down with his legs straddling the back of the chair and folded in arms on its back. Resting his head on his arms Lazarus called up his essence sight again.

The quicksilver spread slowly across his eyes which glowed like cold stars behind thin clouds. Cocking his head to the left he narrowed his eyes as he studied the flow of essence that was Andri. The student was right. There was a systemic infection of both Ashley and Andri’s souls which was not helpful.

“For lack of a better term, that Hellhound bite has metastasized. I’m amazed it hasn’t started to affect your functioning but I get the feeling that Ashley is protecting you. For now. Unfortunately I am not Hazumi. I can’t just remove your fragment and absorb the demon essence the way she could. The other problem is that I seriously doubt that right at this moment I could safely remove your soul and disentangle the infection. I only deal in reconstruction of damaged souls and moving them from vessel to vessel. Hazumi is the one who can sift through essence and pull it apart. Well, living essence. Non-differentiated essence is something else entirely but your consciousness informing order is going to make matters difficult. I mean unless you want to sacrifice yourself for the cause.”

More medical mumbo-jumbo but the same old diagnosis. Well, actually, a bit worse, Andri scowled.

Chuckling Lazarus leaned back from the chair. This was going to require Shay in order to shift through the mess that was Andri’s essence. Loathed as he was to admit it Shaylee had a natural grasp of how conscious souls fit together that would take Lazarus another several decades to understand. That being said he needed to stop the bleeding. Reaching out Lazarus seized on the well of essence in Dracul. There were at least two dozen anchor points in Andri’s soul that were currently uninfected. With a quick motion Lazarus spun essence across the fingers in his right hand. Braiding it quickly he flicked it at the anchor points and cocooned them. While it wouldn’t stop anything permanently it would slow down the demon's progress until he could extract the infecting essence. Quickly assessing Ashley, Lazarus pursed his lips. The angel didn’t have long. Spinning more of the essence Lazarus hardened it and carefully sectioned off parts of Ashley. It would make using her much more difficult but it would also mean that the demon couldn’t completely consume her.

Letting go of his essence sight Lazarus exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“We need to get you somewhere that I can actually operate on this mess, and to someone who can actually help you besides treating symptoms and slowing down the progress.”

The man across might have gaped or recoiled from the strange treatment if he'd spent the last few years anywhere else but at the Academy. But Andri knew how good Lazarus was with essence and let him finish, keeping very, very still. That's not to say he was unimpressed with the whole process but with Ashley's current state his limited perception of essence was almost completely gone. It was hard to appreciate something you couldn't see. As for the outside signs… well, you just had to remind yourself the creepy guy was helping you.

Once it was done he shared Lazarus’ exhale and rolled his shoulder trying to feel a difference. None, he still felt like shit but hopefully at least it wouldn't get worse.

“Well, I fully agree with that.” He said, getting off his chair. Then he remembered his manners. “Oh and.. thank you. In a few moments you did more than anyone I've seen so far.”

Thank you for not leaving me to die. He couldn't bring it out, but it was implied.

Lazarus have Andri a grim half smile. “Everyone forgets the reason I've learned everything I have is to unravel death. It's just difficult to see through the murk. You’re welcome”

Her skull felt like lead, so heavy and thick she could barely lift it. Shoulders, arms, legs—they had the same problem, painfully slow and cumbersome as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Something slid off her waist as she did, a pale and well-manicured hand falling onto the mattress. She glanced at it, then at the creature behind her. White, white, white, his skin was smooth ivory, his hair liquid moonlight, his feathers cotton fluff. This was what people thought of when imagining a sleeping angel.

Yes, that, and not the harpy who found herself in a mirror on her way to the shower. Her cherry-caramel hair was curled into knots, stringy on one side of her head while the other fluffed out into a rat's nest. Her long neck was riddled with hickeys, such delicate, angry puffs of red that dotted the skin in embarrassing numbers. And, Gods, that was hardly the only place the wicked marks were blushing from! Mortified, Roanne scurried from the image and slipped into the shower, letting the hot water soothe her poor skin. Nothing like a good wash to—

Dammit! Of course, of course it wouldn't get the smell of him out. She was using his shampoo and his bodywash, after all. Clean, but hardly satisfied, she dried herself as quickly as she could, applying a hasty and generous amount of foundation she'd stashed away. With much more tame and damp curls trailing after her head, she practically jumped and shimmied into her clothes, which she neglected to realize had been cleaned and patched up sometime in the night.

“You're a wolf in sheep skin, Mr. Mercy!” Roanne rolled her eyes as she skipped out the door, only to rush back in for her phone, which had apparently been left on the bedside table she'd fallen asleep next to.






Nice to see you, too, Elvis. Roanne heaved in breath after breath as she stumbled through the back door of Darlyn's Cafe. The blaring music of the restaurant’s jukebox could be heard all the way into the kitchen, which was where Roanne shrugged off her coat and pulled out her phone. The few cooks on duty there chuckled at her entrance, offering their morning duties.

Its been a while. U should visit the cafe. Ill buy Roanne thumbed in the words on her phone and sent them to a contact she'd been starting to feel guilty about neglecting. Poor Tokarin—what was she doing off all on her own, anyways? Sure, she was an angel and all, and a trained one at that, but she also wasn't a battle angel or even a guardian. With everything going on in the streets, well... no, better not to think about it. She just needed to see the sweet girl's face again.

Roanne tied her apron on, tucking her phone into her jacket hanging on the kitchen wall. With her breath mostly recovered, she was able to go straight to work on morning preparations. All the produce dates had to be checked, the vegetables washed and chopped, the meat sliced and the patties formed. As much as she loved the crisp smells and the gratifying chop of her knife, they only seemed to last a moment. Time ticked by in a flash, the morning light of the kitchen turning richer and thicker as afternoon approached.

The door moved open neatly as Thomas slid in through the door of Darlyn’s Cafe. Quaint It was certainly a change of pace for the professor. Not that he looked it but the man was felt his age that morning. Gently pulling on the sleeves of his dress shirt he removed the cuff links neatly. Pocketing the old cuffs the resurrection mage carefully rolled his dress shirt neatly blousing it. There was certainly something to be said about keeping your sleeves clean. Reaching up Lazarus removed the wire frame aviators and folded them neatly. The removal of the hellhound had taken a fair bit but the kid would recover. Andri was going to be just fine and it also meant that he could find Hazumi now. Reaching into his pocket as he sat down at the low counter. Withdrawing his hand he set three items on the counter: a pocket watch, a velvet pouch and a locket. Opening it he looked down at the two pictures in it. One was of Hazumi at the beginning of this years commencement, he’d immediately claimed the picture and infused it with the emotions that had practically brought him to his knees for the second time in a row. Smiling he let his memories carry him back to the previous year and the first time he’d ever seen her. It had been like peeking at her with her clothes off the first time he’d turned his essence sight on her. It had floored him almost literally. The second time he thought he’d been ready and in the end he really hadn’t been. The picture was the result of the moment. Of course he’d had to wait until after the commencement to inform her. It had ended well.

Smiling at the other photo he gently touched the image of his daughter before he pushed the locket away a bit. Tapping the watch he smiled as he felt the underside of the watch; it had an engraving on it, something from centuries ago. Flicking his eyes to the menu he tugged it over with a single finger on it. Carefully he opened up the menu and began scanning it; it was pretty standard diner fare which worked just fine for him. Shaylee and Ian should be there in a bit but it would give him time for a coffee and contemplation of what he needed to do. Brushing his left hip the necromancers eyes flicked down at the empty space where Dracul usually was. Leaving the sword at his flat was always dangerous but carrying the weapon in public was not always the best message to send.

Finally pulling his eyes up off the menu he scanned the area behind the counter hunting for a waitress. It was strange to be back in a normal setting given how most of his meals had been home cooked or Shay cooked for so long. Pursing his lips he drummed his fingers on the counter top absent mindedly.

@Fairess

Shaylee was nervous as she wrung her hands looking at the space Lazarus had made her prepare over the phone. He had a student with him that was infected by a demon and apparently she was going to be able to help the young man. Looking at Khepri she bit her lip. The Khopesh frightened her; it was power in its most frightening form. It was what she needed to do everything Lazarus had taught her but it was also License to do them. Wringing her hands again she bit her lip and realized that her wrist was covered in slight nail marks.

Taking her hand off her wrist she looked up at the footsteps on the stairs down to the upper basement. The man she’d seen Lazarus with earlier poked his head in and Shay realized she had her hand on the gun tucked in the back of her waist band. Looking around he focused on her for a moment. “Sorry to disturb you I thought Lazarus might be home.”

Shaylee scowled before schooling her face away from the look she knew was on her face. Ian had consumed a fair bit of Lazarus time and she wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about the man’s presence. The musician was part of the world that Lazarus had lived in before her. He trusted Ian more than Shay given how she’d been left to her own devices. Admittedly she was now about to be in the middle of something that required the use of Khepri… Shaylee’s thoughts trailed as she looked at Ian. Why did she know that face and why was he so darn attractive. Suddenly Shay’s face went pink as she realized who Ian was. Ian’s portrait was hung up in Lazarus office and in it was Lazarus’ daughter. Tucking her hair she suddenly realized she was back on the thought of Lazarus.

“Uh.”

Was all she got out before Ian quirked an eyebrow at her. “Sorry Lazarus’ out but he’s on his way in. He has a student with him; something happened.” The furrows appeared immediately in Ian’s face; with that he nodded and started back you the stairs. “Thanks Shay.” The young girl bit her lip as he started walking up the stairs. “Damn...I need a boyfriend. This sucks”

Minutes later a potential candidate was presented to her although it was somewhat likely that if they did have a romance, that it would only last a few moments and end up with a terminal outcome.

Andri was scrutinising her after a mere glance at the tools she had prepared and it was impossible to tell if it was because he found her more interesting or if he was just avoiding looking at the instruments. Likely it was both.

It was undeniable that he found her attractive but that in itself presented a whole new problem. So many people, of all races, used beauty as camouflage. And so many fell for it.

“Are you really that skilled?” He asked bluntly but with curiosity rather than malice. She didn’t look it, stylish and manicured. She looked like she spent much more time on her appearance than on her skill. Of course, Lazarus had vouched for her. But she was a young attractive girl so he couldn’t help but doubt the man’s judgment.

Shay blinked at the blunt comment from the cute boy Lazarus had brought home. At Least he used his brain. “No I’m not that skilled. I’m talented. Besides that you don’t exactly have lots of options.” A smile curled the edge of her mouth as Shay hooked a chair and pulled it over to her with her leg. It dawned on her that it was a habit Lazarus had and she broke into a full smile.

Focusing she pulled her essence sigh into focus. It was way harder than Lazarus made it look and her eyes always showed a strange green when she did it. “Oh my. I see what he meant..” Shay trailed off as she looked a Andri. The infect was nasty and it made her pause. Could she really help him?

Andri’s eyelids dropped to give his eyes a half-closed and his face – a fully annoyed appearance. Trying to compose himself he averted his gaze to the ceiling and then back to the girl. “I suppose that whatever you do, you can hardly make it worse.” He forced a smile and rubbed his forehead. “If he’s passed his habits onto you, then we can only hope he’s done so with some of his knowledge as well.” He couldn’t help the sly comment that quirked his smile to a smirk.

Shay rolled her eyes as Lazarus came down the stairs. “He’s all yours Shaylee. We just need to remove the Hellhound infection.” The look on Shay’s face was priceless as Lazarus set his sword on the bench along side Khepri. “I’ll anchor him so that we don’t accidentally kill thim and then you can start pulling out the demon essence. Same as you always do”

Looking at Andri Shay gave a brief smile. “This shouldn’t be too bad. Have a seat and we can start trying to help you.”

‘What happens if you fail?’ was the obvious question but Andri simply strolled to the chair and took a seat. He didn’t want to know. He also didn’t want to know if it was going to work. He just wanted everything to be over with.

A stray thought struck him and he looked back at Shaylee and her master.
“If you are successful…. Could you help somebody else as well?”

The two necromancers exchanged a look. Lazarus was about to respond when Shaylee spoke for the two of them. “Of Course we will.” A look rippled across Lazarus face before it settled into the shadow of a smile. If he’d done one thing right it had been to teach Shay to be a better human than he’d ever been.

With long delicate fingers Shay reached out for Khepri’s well and stepped up to Andri as Lazarus secured the anchors in Andri’s soul with his own magic. Leaning in Shaylee did her best to put on a brave face and smile. “This shouldn’t hurt but if it does tell me because it means I’m unraveling something I shouldn’t be or the demon is fighting back. Either way I need to know so that I can adjust what I’m doing.” With that Shaylee took her left hand and pressed it firmly to Andri’s chest; the young woman’s eyes rolled back in her head as though possessed and Andri could feel her magic begin the work of disentangling the demons infection.

“Ɛvɹiˌθɪŋ wɪl bi oʊˈkeɪ”

With a chuckle Lazarus smiled as Shaylee slipped in Coptic. It had been her choice for magic and now it was showing as she started into her spell. The double tone that her voice had when she was using essence was far more melodic than his and it certainly was of a higher pitch. Watching Andri carefully he noted as Shay began to unravel the infection. It was slow but she was doing a decent job.

For a long time, nothing happened. Not in Andri’s opinion anyway, who was surprised to find that he didn’t really feel anything, even though his soul was currently being unraveled. The young woman’s chanting, although somewhat unsettling at first, actually started relaxing him. Her hand on his chest was warm and he concentrated on that warmth, feeling his shoulders relax and his eyelids grow heavy. He let them shut and for a moment he imagined that everything will be alright.

But then something twisted deep inside his chest and before he knew it his body had doubled over, a wet, bloody cough erupting from his mouth and splashing over Shaylee’s stomach. “I’m so--” he attempted to say but what came out of his mouth instead was a black smoke thick enough to choke on. It smelled of fire and coal and kept blocking his airways even after he grit his teeth shut.

Lazarus eyes flicked to the young man. Not good the demon was fighting back. With a flick of his hands Lazarus drew the breath from Andri clearing his lungs before slowly circling both hands and driving air back into the young man's lungs. “Nice try you damn bastard.”

Shaylee looked down at Andri her eyes focusing on the young man who was struggling to breath. Taking her right hand she gently pressed her fingers against his throat and began unraveling the demon's essence as it tried to strangulate him. Switching back to english Shay whispered to him. “It's okay. I’m here I won’t let it harm you.” Driving her own essence into the gaps between the demon’s essence and Andri’s she drew on Khepri to pull the two apart. “Stay with me handsome” After Shay was sure that he wasn’t going to choke she went back to plucking apart the essence surrounding his instrument trying to free the angel.

Andri could still feel a very unpleasant burning sensation in his throat but luckily there were people around to force air in his lungs while the demon tried to force it out. He could taste ashes and magma in his mouth and his chest was on fire but the pain was manageable. A twitch quirked his lip but he didn’t dare open his mouth lest something else burst out of it.

Frowning Shaylee realized that there was no way to untangle the infection. It was too deep… With that she wove essence tightly round the fragment and stalled the infection. Giving Lazarus a look the older mage shook his head. With a nod Shay turned back to the young man; returning to her work on his soul. With gentle hands and careful plucking of his essence with hers she slowly balled up the demon's essence completely isolating it from Andri and severing it from the essence twinned through Andri’s instrument. Tilting her head she studied the young man’s essence; there was so much pain and it clearly bled through into his body.

With a heavy sigh Shay put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into the chair climbing onto his lap. “Don’t get use to this. And keep your hands to yourself” Pressing her hands into Andri’s shoulders and collar. Rubbing the knots out of his shoulders Shay leaned in her lips inches from his as she inhaled drawing the demon's essence out of him as she pressed soothing essence into the channels of his soul where the demon’s essence had damaged it. What the hell? Andri thought as the woman climbed on top of him and got in his face. He desperately wanted to let out a chuckle but was too scared to unclench his jaw so he just stared at Shay, wondering if he was expected to do anything other than sit quietly and take it. Strangely she didn’t seem to care for his confusion leading him to believe she probably knew what she was doing. Hopefully he added to himself. Slowly he could feel the scorching sensation recede from his throat which was reassuring if nothing else. Giving a final soothing push of essence from her skin and hands directed at the aches in his body Shay stood up and carefully unstraddled him. Licking her lips she blinked a few times to clear up her essence sight. Wavering a little she collapsed back and Lazarus caught her.

“Draw on Khepri.” Lazarus supported his apprentice against his chest as she tried to stay upright.

Shay reached out and drew energy and essence up from the khopesh replacing her lost reserves from the sword. Turing into his arms she blinked more and looked up at him. “Fuck….what is up with you all.” Ears red Shay pushed back from Lazarus standing up from his arms. In a huff she headed for the stairs; Andri was right in front of her and for a minute she met his eyes and turned redder. As she made the stairs Ian bumped right into her and that was the nail in the coffin as her ears turned bright red with his arms on her shoulders to steady her.

“Damn it!” Shay pushed past and took the stairs two at a time. As Ian stepped into the room he looked at Lazarus whose eyebrows were raised in surprise. “Well that went well.” Shaking his head Ian chuckled “You realize you’re in the body of a man only a couple years older than the young woman living with you, right?” The look on Lazarus face was priceless and Ian chuckled. Putting his hand on Andri’s shoulder he gave the younger musician a patient look. “Good luck with these two.”

Once when he was young, Andri had fallen off his bike and hit his head on a sharp rock. He didn’t know how long he’d been out but when he came to the world was veiled in a dark mist and his hands, head and chest were soaked in blood. When he’d tried to get up the world defied him and tilted dangerously to the side, then to the other. He was shivery and sweaty and he felt like he was going to vomit his guts out. His head was still wet and hot despite the winter chill but he had to get home because he knew that if he didn’t, he might well die.

By the time he reached the village he couldn’t feel his limbs, or his head for that matter. Luckily a passerby had noticed him staggering and called an ambulance immediately. In the hospital they diagnosed him with hypovolemic shock and had to transfuse at least three blood banks into him before they released him.

This felt very much the same. The chill, the uncontrollable shaking, the frantic heartbeat. But his vision was fine and he knew that whatever the young woman had done would keep him alive. Now it was just a matter of time for his body to catch up on the news.

Andri lifted his head and tried to thank her but his voice didn’t reach her in time. Gingerly he pulled his shirt up and checked stomach, convinced that he’d see clawmarks protruding from the inside. Nothing. Just old scars and the stench of fresh sweat. Gross.

The hand that landed on his shoulder startled him and made him look up. He stared at Ian and it took him a few moments to remember who he was. Once he did, he grinned at the man and joked in a sore voice.

“I think Hazumi really ought to come home soon.” Straightening slightly he felt his heart speed up yet more in protest and leaned against the backrest. “Thank you for that.” He addressed Lazarus. “You’ve taught her well. I think… I mean, I have no clue what just happened but it felt like an exorcism so I bloody hope it was one.” He grinned.

Nodding Lazarus sat down across from Andri to take a look. “Looks like she got it all except the infection in your instrument but that’s not too big of a surprise. Hazumi doesn’t like people touching her without her permission.” The double entendre was so obvious Ian made a gagging noise from behind them. Tugging on essence strands which permeated the below floor lab he grinned mischievously. “So speaking of Hazumi...” He let the sentence trail off.

“I don’t think you should mistake the two.” Andri decided to play along. “It’s probably illegal on some level or another.” There was a slight blush to his face - nobody could argue with Hazumi’s allure but it really didn’t feel appropriate discussing her like this. Part of him wondered if she wouldn’t overhear him somehow and strike him with lightning. He checked his hand but it was still trembling so he didn’t risk trying to get up just yet. “I suppose you want to try looking for her now? But… would you mind giving me a few moments to regain my bearings?”

Lazarus nodded looking at his watch. “Take as much time as you need I think I need to go and feed myself. You’re free to stay here for now. Although I’d advise against going through any of the girls’ rooms. Shay Probably went to hide in hers and she might notice and then you’d be in trouble. You’re free to snoop but be warned some of the things living in this house don’t like strangers very much.” With that Lazarus stood up and looked at Ian. “You’re welcome to join me or stay here. Up to you. Same goes for you Andri.”

“Girls?” Whispered Andri, shooting Ian a quick glance before gulping and nodding to Lazarus. He wasn’t quite steady on his feet yet but he pushed himself up anyway - the man’s words suddenly made staying down here by himself very unappealing.

Ian chuckled while he waited on Lazarus to ascend the stairs. “Mary used to live here, Iris used to live here, Shay lives here and Hazumi used to live here when Mary and Iris moved out. It was apparently less conspicuous than her office.”

“Sorry for asking.” Andri smiled as they both followed Lazarus.

---

Toki didn’t know how that kind of thing always happened to her. Back in Heaven, she remembered, Mirria and Jiro used to talk about ‘Karma’ a lot, the notion that the actions you took in your past lives somehow affected your current one. She tried to challenge them sometimes - “so what about accidents?”, “so what about murderers running free?” but eventually she gave up.

Today she had the nagging feeling she’d been wrong. And it hadn’t been self-reflection that gave her that suspicion, it was an event. And she really didn’t know how it happened but it felt like a good idea at first, before she went out on the street and realised people were staring. Defiantly, she stuck her nose up and decided she wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t care if people were staring, if any babies fell on her or if her wings swept the pavement, collecting dirt, sticks and fishbones. She had bought a “high performance, ultra-lightweight breathable costume” and she would wear it proudly.

That was for the first half-hour. Now she wasn’t sure if she was angry at herself or everyone else but she really felt like punching someone. Ot crying. Both were equally tempting.

And then she got the text. And it was from someone she really admired and hadn’t seen in forever. It was also someone who happened to be quite close nearby so when she set off immediately, she arrived mere minutes after she’d got called. Well, flying might have contributed as well.

The angel squeezed through the door of Darlyn's Cafe and tried not to look at anyone but make her way straight for a seat. She also tried not to knock anything over with her wings, keeping them as close to her body as possible. She flipped the menu open in front of her face, just in case anyone had seen the news yesterday, and cheated a little in learning when Roanne’s gaze would wash over her. At the right moment she lowered the menu and gave the woman a smile and a wave. She knew it would be at least another 15 minutes until her shift was over but she didn’t mind waiting.

It wasn't that Jasper didn't sleep so much as he hated to.

First and foremost it was wasteful. Time spent sleeping was time that could well be spent doing something else--he didn't need to, or at least he had sufficient essence reserves and the methodology to avoid having to do so, but he also didn't enjoy it. Angelic though he might have looked his dreams were rarely pleasant ones, subconscious rioting at the notion of having to fit all the jumbled information he accumulated in somewhere. It was hard enough to fit millennia of personal experience into a single mind, let alone the collective memories and experiences and consciousnesses of the many others he'd metaphorically (and, unfortunately, not-so-metaphorically) devoured since, and the end result was not what one might consider 'restful'. Still, the night had been surprisingly soothing, and had he not been woken up by his tinny, choral ring-tone proffered by a single, red-finger-nailed hand he might even have been in a good mood for it. Honestly the phone was damn lucky--had he any less patience it would have been ashes so long ago it wasn't even funny.

Not that you'd have been able to tell from his voice as he sat up and swiped in.

"No, he hasn't escaped." Was the first thing he said, his breath the slight, weary sigh of someone speaking to an obvious idiot with obvious patience and compassion. "Yes, it's a ploy. Yes, I'll be right over." The phone swiped closed and laid itself in Rubra's hand at the same moment Jasper turned in bed, running a hand over his face as if to brush off the cobwebs of centuries and the weight that came with them. It didn't work, if his creaky rise was any indication, and he padded his way to the closet with the same resigned, determined footsteps he always did. Distractions abounded, but in the end there was always work to be done.

Another white shirt, another pair of immaculate white pants, another day. Back to the war.

------

"I did warn you." Jasper was saying, but Ricket couldn't hear him. He couldn't actually hear much of anything, really, but the panicked blood pumping in his ears and the wet sound of sobbing that he realized only after a moment was his own. The angel certainly wasn't crying--at best he looked mildly apologetic, which barely even computed now as Ricket tried to suck in another breath but instead only shuddered and wept.

And tried, desperately, to understand what he had to do to make sure Jasper never, ever did that to him again.

To be fair, the angel wasn't lying; Ricket just hadn't believed him. They never did, the demons that Jasper captured, having suffered as they had. They'd survived Hell, after all, and struggle and dismemberment and the countless awful deeds their species was prone to. What did this prissy little angel who walked with bare feet, with his chains and his concrete and his fuck-off huge bodyguard, know of pain? Ricket had even said it to his face.

And Jasper had smiled, kindly and sadly, because there was nothing else to do. How could he have made him understand? That this was a pain not endured but suffered, that the demon would never be the same for bearing its memory? Some things could only be experienced, not learned, and this apparently was one of them.

It's only in the face of horror that we wicked things find our nobler selves, Jasper remembered, from so long ago now that it was incredible to think he still felt that empty burn. But we can be so noble!

So, horror. It had taken Jasper a long time to perfect it.

"Please." Ricket realized he was saying at about the same moment Jasper did, hearing it over and over on a breathless whisper. All one word, a prayer. "Please. Please. Please." The angel standing above him knelt, slowly and achingly, one knee to the floor first and then the other, and leaned in to turn his ear to the demons lips. If the creature had the burden of such agony, it was the least he could do to bear its confession.

"Please?"

"Please." Ricket breathed and nodded his head, swallowing back another blubbering sob as he closed his eyes. Red tears streaked down from his eyes, ran down from his ears, dribbled from his lips to patter at the ground below. "Anything. Please."

It was the part that Jasper liked the least, if he was being honest. Contrary to popular belief he did not enjoy the pain of others. Their redemption, yes, but not the pain that came with it. Its necessity was his only consolation, but he wore it like armor as he labored to his feet with weary understanding. It was always the same, after all, the begging and crying and pleading. To think he was once the Archangel of Mercy.

"I know it hurts, Ricket." He said, closing his eyes and managing a beatific smile as his hand lay on the demon's shoulder. "But you will rise above it, and be so much more in its wake."

And, his eyes beginning to shine, Ricket screamed.

-------------------


@Fairess, @Wind Wild, @Themerlinhawk

Lunch time.

It came later than he'd intended--the morning had been busy--but Jasper stepped into Roanne's diner and made his way to the same seat he always did...and stopped. That there was someone else in it was hardly surprising, the diner's food was quite good after all, but that it was someone he couldn't simply move without thought was. Try though he might to keep the molding of memory to a minimum, after all these years Jasper was a creature of habit. He much preferred what he'd come to appreciate as his red leather stool by the counter, three stools in to the left of the corner where the checkered floor made its way back towards the kitchen. It had his little tear exposing the cheap white cotton beneath and didn't squeak when he swiveled on it, as he occasionally did while he was preoccupied in thought. And while normally a little mental nudge would be enough to shuffle the counter and allow him his space, today it was significantly more occupied.

First and foremost there was the man in the dark suit, settled at the bar and lost in his memories. It didn't take a genius to see the aura around him and to Jasper it was clear as day, heavy as grave dirt and dark as death. It clung in the air around him like a pall, thickening and permeating it like the weight of the enchanted locket he carried. The second was the young angel seated in his stool, a pretty thing trying to get Roanne's attention. That was, in and of itself, an interesting development--Jasper knew that Roanne had angelic friends outside of himself, of course, but he'd never made any effort (and in fact, had made efforts not) to meet them. He had no desire to be cloying and besides, little enough time to spend on it. But this little bright thing looked exactly the kind of companion someone like Roanne would appreciate, and given that it was so clear that she was there to converse with his dear guardian he took the liberty of making his aching way to the seat between the oddities instead of trying to slide them about. He sat more slowly than a man his age should.

Would they, he wondered, see the man in the tan suit or the angel in white? The wings on his back dwarfed even Tokarin's, massive and heavy as they trailed across the floor behind him. That people stepped around them was suspiciously convenient, as was their immaculate cleanliness, but such things were common enough among angels.

"Afternoon." He offered to either or both of them, nodding slightly in acknowledgement. He gathered up a menu and set it delicately on the counter in of him, the universal sign of being ready to order no matter how unlikely it was to happen. Roanne had a penchant for not bothering to let him after the first fifteen times he'd asked for a wedge salad, but it never hurt to be prepared. Turning to Tokarin, his smile wrinkled the corners of his eyes.

"Would you mind switching seats?"

Alba and Rubra, as always, waited outside.

She treated her meat well— that was the real difference between a good burger and a mediocre one. Sure, people might say it was just a slab of meat that was about to disappear down the gullet in a matter of minutes, but that wasn't how Roanne worked. Food wasn't survival, wasn't an experience, it was life. Healthy food made a body strong, delicious food made a body happy, and no body could get along without food period. So she took the matter of serving meals seriously, most especially when it came to her meats. The exchange of life to sustain life was sacred in its own right, so it ought to come with dressings that would make the diner appreciate it most.

Flat iron steak grounded in the kitchen for the juiciest, purest flavor—check. Mix of milk, bread crumbs, and house-made barbeque sauce—check. A pinch of salt, garlic, and cayenne pepper—check. She mixed them all together with her own hands, packing the meat loosely and weighing each patty before heading to the grill. She couldn't just slap them on, either, no; her babies needed maximum crusty, caramelized searing for a proper barbeque flavor. Of all things, she used a cast-iron pan on the grill, leaving the lid on to keep it smoking hot until the meat went inside. How many times she flipped the heavy thing in a day didn't matter—it produced the juiciest burgers with a perfect crunch she dared any other chef or backyard barbequer in all of Loom to beat.

Not that any food critics were visiting anytime soon. It wasn't that the restaurant had a bad reputation, it was just in the wrong part of town, not where tourists liked to visit when looking for the brightest and loudest landmarks to take selfies in front of. The pride of Roanne's life was limited to a 5-year-old article printed from Loom Bugle's website, framed and set between two hockey players on the wall in front of the bar. “BEST BURGERS IN TOWN: DARLYN'S CAFE IS THE NEW DELICIOUS,” its title read, following a short little blurb about the restaurant’s specialty sandwiches. In all that time, no one had ever commented on the boring piece of paper, but someday, someday a bored drunk was going to point at it and say something along the lines of, “Damn right!”

“Ro! Denise has to leave early today. Cover the bar for lunch, won't you?” Elaine's shock of gray-brown hair popped out from the kitchen door, much to the angel's frustration.

“I'm not in a people mood today. Make Caleb do it.”

Caleb, who happened to be assisting on the kitchen, snorted with amusement. “She had a busy night, see—”

“Aaaaand I'm going. Try not to light anything on fire!” Roanne tugged off her apron, stuffing it into a ball before hucking it at the boy. His laughter followed her all the way out the door and into the hallway, where she tied a new apron over the top of her black chef coat and washed her hands. Her hair was still caught up in a messy ponytail, which bounced along with way more energy than her sore, leaden body had when she made her way out to the restaurant’s dining floor.

Lo and behold, there were the bright and fluffy, unmistakable wings of Toki. Roanne slapped her forehead, already having forgotten the message she'd sent. Of course, that wasn't all—right next to Toki was another set of massive wings that could only belong to one person. It was early, way too early to be thinking about him again, much less seeing—

Don't think, don't think about it. Just go! Roanne pushed up her lips with two fingers, trying to smile before she walked over. Somehow Toki saw her before she even got there despite the menu in her face, waving and smiling and—Gods, she is so cute!—just being herself. She and Jasper almost seemed to match with those soft, cherubic faces and blue eyes, but one had a dry familiarity to his gaze while the other was all shy sweetness.

“Lookit you, buoying up the whole world with that smile. I'll start you on a Cheribita—you'll need it if you're sitting next to Jasper—total stranger I've never met, best keep away from him—and how about a Dark and Stormy for you, Mr. Up to the Nines?” The last nickname she reserved for Lazarus, casually brushing aside the massive aura that hung around him like an angry thundercloud.

@Howler @Wind Wild @Themerlinhawk

Angels. Lots of Angels. The man had been fiddling with strands of essence drawn from the whorls in the bar top. The rings and knots moved like fluid beneath the surface of the bar top as he tugged on the essence strands. Funny really, so much of his reputation was predicated on his reputation for raising the dead and yet the sort of artwork he was absentmindedly work on as he waited was really what he wished he was known for. Faces in brick work; nature scenes in the whorls and knots of woodwork. The oak tree was halfway done when the first one came in and sat down. Younger, no previous lives? Maybe. It was hard to tell without the sight trained on her. No need to pry. Chances were he was right but you could never tell without really checking.

Adding more leaves to the tree with a twist of his left hand below the bar top. Pausing as the hairs on the back of his neck shot up. Something else rather interesting happened. The wards around his mind and soul flared to life. They were two centuries old but they were still just as strong. Illusion maybe? That wasn’t that unusual. But why had the mind wards sprung to life? Looking to his right Lazarus made the look as casual as possible. The man was rather interesting to say the least. Incredibly pale; it was almost reminiscent of the depictions of his kind in the cult writings of at least a dozen old European sects. That must have been the reason for the illusion. To each their own he supposed.

More plucking of the wood's essence followed as he arranged further flora and fauna in the scene which he was now fully involved in painting beneath the bars surface. To anyone looking directly down on the bartop it would appear as though the rings beneath its polished top were running into new patterns as Lazarus pulled on the strands of essence which he’d picked apart. What in the world was taking the group so long? Probably for the best though given that Ian was not exactly in a trusting mood.

Looking up from the wood Lazarus frowned and then the waitress approached the bar. Friends, Something, oh that one is for me Stopping himself Lazarus realized that he was watching the muscles in her face as she flicked the micro expressions and her aura shifted. That was going to become awkward assuming they could get Hazumi back; it was so easy to fall back into the same patterns over and over again. Force of habit, behavioral reinforcement, didn’t matter what you called it; it was all the same. Excuses for going through the same motions in a life that he had no right to after defining the end a dozen times and for over two centuries.

“Cute.” That was rude.

“Sorry, its been about two weeks since I did anything approaching normal. Hunter’s Cocktail actually. Use Irish Whiskey and forget the cream. Don’t hold back on the cherry. The triple sec is fine too. Although I do appreciate the irony. As for my choice of dress; the phrase is Rag Out. I’m Irish not English. Not that you would be able to tell given my lack of accent.” It dawned on him that he was rambling but still...In for a penny in for a pound. Huh, English Idiom again. Interesting

“I guess that doesn’t explain the choice of clothing though.” Twisting the essence again he went back to his art absentmindedly carrying on. “I’m a history professor so I have to look the part; although I guess I’ve been on sabbatical for a while now that I think about it.” Tilting his head Lazarus shrugged his shoulders at the thought as though it was only now occurring to him. “Also, given the article framed on the wall over there and the fact that you just came out of the kitchen I’m willing to bet that the burgers here are not quite bad. You can add that to my tab. All the fixings. There we go that one is American I think. Chips if you please. Oh looks like we are back to English. Of course they are potatoes so that ought to be Irish enough for me.”

Pausing the man looked up in the silence he’d single handedly created and met Roanne’s eyes.

“I tip well. I promise.”

@Fairess@Howler@Wind Wild

At some point, Fran did leave the girls she was accompanying. A call on her cellphone alerted Fran to some business she could go handle, though upon hearing more about the job Fran grew less interested in it. Making an example out of some troublemakers were fun and all, but Fran had no interest in the money rewarded. There was only one thing she wanted and it was to get this damned chastity belt off. She was shortly debating going back to that winged angel girl and telling her to do it, but obviously she wouldn't be willing. So instead Fran was once again left to go wander.

It was sometime in the afternoon and Fran was hungry. Well, as hungry as a demon who feeds of lust can be... Which in this instance, she was starving. It's been too long since she had sex, and food only gave her nibblets of what she wanted. If she ate particularly erotically then perhaps, but it has to be in the presence of others. Doing so alone was within the field of masturbation and that isn't enough. Fran usually just robbed vending machines for food, but since she had some spare change from a recent break-in she figured she could try and actually purchase a mean for once. But where would she go...?

As Fran walked she came across a billboard covered in pamphlets and advertisements. Many businesses were being advertised including various cafes and restaurants, so Fran had many to choose from. She gave each one a look and decided on a little place called "Darlyn's Cafe". Some quaint shop Fran didn't bother looking too much into. Whatever, food was food, and if it wasn't good then she'll let it be known. She at least knew where the address was, so Fran leap from the streets onto the rooftops and made her way over to the cafe.

Ian, Lashriel

Many had come, it was certainly a start. The oppressed flocked to her arms. The downtrodden, the abused, those tired of serving the humans. Those who suffered from the council’s disease. She would heal them. Metatron stirred beside her. The hulking Seraphim had been at her side since she had freed him from a prison four years ago. The work of one of the Academy’s mages had put her there almost a century ago. Her beautiful voice had called Metatron from the depths of his depravity and self pity to be something worth while. She had raised him from those depths and then raised him to his heights by helping him to reclaim his lost selves. Metatron had always been a fighter, a follower of those great few who had gained his respect and now he followed her.

Lashriel.

Finally she unfolded her arms and the crowd silenced itself. “Brothers and sisters. Thank you for joining me today.” Her voice was the definition of beauty as her english was curved around a tongue that had been raised speaking russian. Even though she had reclaimed all her past lives and really did not have the accent should wish it; she kept it as a reminder of how she had gotten here.

“I know everyone of you came here today wondering if I am the genuine article. I would be skeptical myself in your place.” She smiled meeting their eyes like a loving mother to her children. “I know that all of you are in pain, and that it is not your doing. It those who you served, who you bend to, who you are oppressed by.”

There were murmurs of agreement but they quieted down again soon enough. “I promised you that I would help and that is exactly what I will do for everyone of you. I shall help you.”

Many looked at each other skeptically.

“The council ruined life for all of us. Save the privileged few.” She gestured to all of them “The rest have been left to suffer.” She narrowed her eyes “As though it were not bad enough that Judas should enslave and conquer as he did, we were left to fend for ourselves and help the pathetic humans. Separated forever from Heaven. And yet the humans have their home and the demons still frolick, feed and take their base pleasures in their Hell and now on the surface?!. What is left for us?!”

There was a grumble of assent at the validity of the words.

“It is time to take what is ours and I can give each of you the power to do that. I can cleanse the dark angels….and I can help you to reclaim your memories...Without the risk.”

A chorus of whispers rippled through the crowd. Was she serious?

“Not all of you will become Seraphims. But a few will. The rest of you will remember at the least five of your past lives, which will be much more than the rest of the traitor angels remember. It is time to take back what is ours!” She looked out at them with fire in her eyes
“Who’s with me?”

There was silence for a moment...

...Before the empty warehouse erupted in cheers

She smirked before whispering in russian to Metatron

“Tell Raziel that we have begun, and then summon Purah back from Moscow. We will need her help.”

-----

Ian sat perched in the rafters.

This was the definition of bad and far more progressed than The Academy had ever expected. Unfortunately she was not doing anything illegal and she had not suggested How she was planning on carry things out. So there was very little for the musician to do other than observe. Drawing on his Veil Ian slipped back into the shadows. Running along the rafters he slipped out from underneath the eaves of the warehouse.

Time to find some back up. This is getting out of hand.

The man next to Toki was distinctively weird. Was he carving the bar?! The girl felt compelled to tell him off but before she got the words out another man strolled in and sat between them. The brief glance she threw him revealed he’s nothing special yet somehow she had a bad feeling about him. Which was probably why she ignored his greeting and only met his eyes when he actually addressed her. To ask to swap seats. It was a poor choice of words. Of course she didn’t mind. Who would mind something this trivial?

But today was different. So instead of being outright rude she used the fact that Roanne spoke to her then and ignored Jasper a second time. Her smile was instant when the woman was addressed. “Hey Roanne, long time no see. I have no idea what a Cheribita is but I’ll trust you on--” and then Lazarus spoke and he drew a lot of wide-eyed looks, including her own. She couldn’t stop staring for a moment after he had finished and then slowly returned her gaze to Roanne and tried to get her smile back too. “Err.. can I have an orange juice with that too, please?”

This, of course, was why Jasper didn't prefer to meet up with Roanne’s little friends. Whether or not Toki was a part of the choir the guardian found herself apart of, Roanne had a habit of making friends like herself--angels who stood among humanity as much as for it, lived with and as them as much as not. It was very sweet but more importantly very young of them, and quite frankly Jasper found it tiring. For a creature as admittedly persnickety as himself, modern culture often clashed sharply. If he hadn't expected to be sir’d or for Tokarin to jump to attention, he also hadn't expected to be simply ignored.

He closed his eyes and stifled a sigh. All would be well.

By the time Lazarus had finished his own nit-picking, which was certain to go over brilliantly during the late lunch rush among a healthy diner crowd, Jasper folded his hands to the wooden counter and did his best to ignore the itch to tell said mage to stop casually mucking with the essence of things. Perhaps he really did need to eat something--for him, this was almost cranky.

“A Cheribita is a drink of sherry and bitters, traditionally. Fortifying.” He offered, chuckling a bit in the silence after the man’s statement. “And if I’m not ‘cool’ enough to be introduced to your friends, Roanne, you can just say so.” He added to the angel at work, amused while he propped up his chin with a wrist.

“It’s cause you’re old. Although I don’t think I qualify as a friend either so don’t feel too bad.” Looking at the picture beneath the bar’s surface he casually swiped his hand across it and stitched the essence back to the way it was when he’d found it. Maybe he could recreated it in oil later but given that the scene had largely been a form of fidgeting he doubted it would stick around long enough to make it to canvas.

Turning to look at Toki he stopped and did a double take. Flicking his essence sight like a set of glasses. Strange. He could almost swear that he’d seen that somewhere before. Folding his legs up onto the chair he continued to peer at her for a rather long moment. Why do I recognize you? Finally he couldn’t help the curiosity. “What is your name?”

This time Toki acknowledged Jasper with a polite nod and a “thank you, Jasper” but again her attention was snatched by Lazarus when he decided to invade her privacy as well. Why couldn’t she just talk to Raonne in peace? She had so many things she wanted to tell her! Ha. Maybe if they didn’t respect her privacy, she shouldn’t respect theirs either. Just you watch.

Sucking in a deep breath, the young angel decided to keep calm and remember her manners. Just because she had a bad couple of days didn’t mean she should make it everyone else’s problem. ”Don’t act like a brat and they might stop treating you like one.” “My name is Tokarin. And yours? And why do you talk to yourself and…. Do that thing to the bar?”

“Doctor Thomas Finch, And I do lots of things because the world fascinates me and when you tug at the strings the whole thing unravels and you get to see the interesting parts. That being said I appreciate beauty in every way shape and form. This.” He gestured at the top of the bar. “Is beauty. Well at least it was but then again I suspect that is the true nature of beauty now isn’t it: To forever be fleeting. That and it's not distasteful like using something so savage as a knife. As for talking to myself quite frankly I’m one of the smartest people I know, but that could just be arrogance. Actually it is arrogance. This is what happens when I don’t have people to keep me in check.” Chuckling, Lazarus smiled down the bar at her. “Sorry, That didn’t answer the question did it? I talk to myself because I’m sort of unhinged. Minorly. Its therapeutic. Sort of.” He trailed off considering the implications of the comment. Raising his eyebrow at Roanne he frowned in a manner that seemed to indicate he wasn’t actually frowning at her.

Man, Roanne just couldn't keep up with the whole spiel! Lazarus had lost her at 'cute,' some circuit or other in her tired brain frying as soon as she realized what sort of customer she was dealing with. This finicky type, which seemed to think she was a cocktail waitress in a spy movie and not a lead bodied, mediocre wage paid stand-in for a barkeep, normally would have won a sharp retort and a glare. The fact that he was vandalizing ol' Darlyn's dining room would have gotten him tossed out as well, but really, she'd just killed a demon the other day and what drunk was going to notice the uneven surface now?

“Yeah, whatever. One Dark and Stormy coming right up!” Roanne turned, lazily poking a finger at the shelf lined with booze to pick out a small keg of ginger beer and a bottle of dark rum. Both went into a mixing tin, which she eyeballed for proportions rather than using measuring cups. After a scoop of ice from the machine under the countertop, she closed up the mixer and faced her patrons again as she shook it over her left shoulder.

“Is it just me, or is there a cloud hanging over my angels today?” Roanne winked at Toki, taking note of the orange juice and mentally shuffling it into her to-do list. Which she would get to someday. “Once you've got some heat in your veins again, you'll feel much better, promise! It'd be a travesty for you to leave here feeling the blues. I’ll get to that orange juice eventually.”

Roanne bent suddenly, retrieving a chilled glass from another hidden cooler meant for just such a purpose. The booze poured smoothly into the stout little bar glass, with a twist of the wrist at the end to keep the mixer from dripping. Without even glancing at Lazarus, she slid the glass his way before emptying the mixer in a sink on the opposite side from the serving counter and rinsing the tin out.

Next cocktail, what was it she'd said again? Right! Cheribita, fortifying. She plucked an olive-colored bottle of dry sherry from among the booze, then a much smaller, practically glowing bottle of orange bitters. This time she didn't even bother with the mixer, dumping in ice and pouring the liquids over it to hear the slight crackle and pop within the chilled bar glass. Against all health code standards (because really, who cared among friends?), she dipped in her finger to give it a few swills before passing it over to the petite angel and licking her finger.

Finally down to her last patron, she bent slightly, brushing the backs of her fingers against the tender inside of Jasper's wrist exposed by resting his head on his hand. “You heard Mr. Dark and Gloomy over there, right? Chin up, pip pip! You've got a new patient and the day is barely half done. Lay your best booze on me—that you actually have some taste for.”

Looking at the Dark and Stormy Thomas tilted his head. Distinctly not a Hunter’s Cocktail but it was alcohol; it would suffice. Patting his pockets Lazarus withdrew the notebook in his left pocket and set it on the bar top in the midst of his other things. Plucking the pencil from his left breast pocket he stuck the sharpened point between his lips and slid it smoothly out removing the burrs on the tip of it. Flipping to the next blank page he went to work filling the blank lines neatly. The script was a safe version of Sathanian although it's strange arcs and sharp curves had always reminded him of arabic. Shay’s work last night had been an interesting sight for sure as it was another glaring difference between the master and the student’s talents.

Running his thumb along the outside of the glass he swirled the liquid with his will, C6H2O or more simply Ethanol. C12H22O11, Sucrose; traces of a few other things. Molasses based then. Sodium, Calcium, Magnesium, etc. Standard dark Rum by the feel of it nothing too complicated to manipulate. Ginger beer; equally complex if not more so in comparison to the rum. Various organics, pretty standard stuff for an alcoholic beverage. Easy enough fix dipping his finger in the drink he swirled it twice before checking for the amber coloration that indicated the difference in the drink he wanted. Thank goodness he’d had no need for citric acid; the lemon never did taste right when it was converted from something that wasn’t an acid to begin with. Now where do I put it?

Flexing his left hand Lazarus peered around the bar for a moment. There was no obvious energy sink; that was until his eye alighted on the silk pouch on the bar top. Carefully feeding the leftover energy from the conversion into the ring Lazarus picked up the drink and sipped at it. It wasn’t perfect but then it never was; still it was better than drinking rum. Sipping from the highball he continued working on the observations from the previous evening as the waitress served the other two at the bar. The uncomfortable desire to peer at all three of them with his Sight was starting to get on his nerves; he couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew the younger one.

Jasper, meanwhile, was busy being amused by Roanne’s question. That he had taste for, indeed. He’d been a connoisseur long before this city had existed.

“I don’t think you’ll have my preferred vintage in stock, and I shouldn’t drink before returning to work.” Jasper pointed out idly, eyeing the selection with casual skepticism. It was rare that he drank at all these days, really, but he’d come to appreciate Roanne’s bad influence on him. As she would no doubt argue life was meant to be lived, and what was the point of keeping a stream clean if one never dipped a toe in the water? Finally, as much to avoid ruining her full run of her clients as anything else, he acquiesced.

“Vodka, then, whatever you recommend. Neat and chilled, if you would.” He spoke up, the slight sing-song of his accent breaking up the syllables a bit more than might be. Even ordering and definite his voice was softer and quieter than most, leaning back slightly to avoid being caught in the conversational crossfire. That a good therapist might be in order for dear Dr. Finch did cross his mind, but it was a thought he kept to himself as he allowed the pair to converse.

Which would, of course, have been easier for the both of them had simply switched seats with him. Not that he cared enough to remind her, of course. That would be petty.

Toki tasted her drink and almost recoiled at the taste. “It’s alcoholic?” Somehow the words spoken by Jasper had gone over her head and she just not understood what he’d meant. Taking another sip, this time more carefully, she leaned on the bar with a sigh but in truth, even just being here already made things better. Roanne often felt like the only friend she had on earth.

Even if she didn’t see the woman that often, she had been one of the first people to help her settle down in Loom – she explained things like money and grocery shops and bills, and she took her shopping for clothes because, believe you me, Heavenly fashion really stood out. Toki had grown up around angels, including the last remaining Archangel, Lathiel, but Roanne was different. Wiser, somehow. And the way she cared about humans was truly striking. Secretly, Toki really admired her friend and wanted to be more like her – a real hero, not a mock one.

“I suppose I need it.” She concluded, taking another cautious sip. “I started remembering some past life and it’s actually much less fun than people make it out to be. Have you ever had any flashbacks?” She asked Roanne but glanced at Jasper as well, wondering if he’d join on or pretend not to hear.

Roanne couldn’t help but laugh at Toki’s antics--she herself was a fan of the alcoholic burn, how it loosened up her muscles that always found a way to be tense. The poor angel always had Roanne worried about who would take advantage of her goodness--it wasn’t a question of if, always when. With things on the streets getting worse, she was tempted to broach the topic of having Toki move in with her, but something always stopped her. Roanne was far from a model angel, was almost never at home, and… well, Toki happened to be sitting next someone far more organized and better at keeping a body safe at home than she was.

“Yeah, I’ve had flashbacks.” Roanne turned from the counter to fetch some vodka, and, quite contrary to Jasper’s simple request, began to pour it into the mixing tin with some ice and dry vermouth. Shaking the mix over her left shoulder again, her face turned thoughtful as she wandered back over to her patrons. “It’s disorienting, always comes without warning, you know? You’re standing on a street and seeing what it used to be, but it’s not that anymore. Or you wake up and are confused about where you are because you remember falling asleep in a much different place. The weirdest thing, though, is meeting angels who knew you in a previous life. That gets awkward.”

Toki laughed dryly. “Yeah, because there’s history. And they might remember more than you do, or nothing at all, and you still end up fucking missing them.” She glared at the wall behind Roanne’s left wing. “ ‘Wiser’ my ass. It’s just gutting, pathetic, weird and unnecessary.” She concluded with a sip of the Cheribita. She felt somewhat sorry for the men next to her as they hadn’t asked to be involved in her troubles but it was liberating to finally be able to vent her frustration to someone who understood. Anyway, she had saved them most of the details so surely they’d get over it.

Pausing in his note taking Lazarus shook his head. “It sounds to me like you are having a tough time. The fact that you recognize that you are having a tough time seems pretty wise to me. Not everyone is lucky enough to realize that; sometimes you go whole life times and never realize it.” Closing his book Lazarus tilted his head and took another drink of his frankenstein's monster of a drink. Putting the drink in front of him Lazarus contemplated it for a long moment. “I used to work for Loom’s government. This was-..A very long time ago. The whole point of this is that lucky for you we don’t have half the problems we use to. Sure we have a few more now but thankfully we have people like your friend.” He gestured at Roanne, “Surface Angels haven’t always been welcome and we changed that. Now I can sit here and offer my less than sage commentary on your daily life, awkwardly in front of another individual, who judging by his lack of inclusion by our waitress knows rather little about your life either. Possibly at the expense of having my food spat in but what’s life without a little danger and unknown.”

Turning his attention to Roanne he tilted his head at her. “What did I say? I get the distinct impression that I pissed you off and am continuing to do so. No reason for me to stop so I might as well push forward. Conceivably the worst thing you could do to me is kill me but it won’t stick. So don’t worry.” Folding his fingers carefully on top of his notebook; Lazarus turned his calm and flat eyes on the waitress. “Well, don’t keep me waiting and don’t spare me the gory details. I can take it.”

Roanne’s gaze had softened at Toki--she’d stopped shaking the cocktail without even realizing it. There was no filter to Roanne’s emotions, the repressed pain, both from within and from knowing her friend suffered from the same symptoms acutely, was clear by the tension in her jaw and her brow. Toki didn’t have to explain: Roanne knew acutely the feeling of loneliness, of knowing there was not just something but someone she’d cared about that an ancient, mysterious part of herself longed for and could never obtain again. Deep down, she knew there was a part of them that would never be at home, not in Heaven or the mortal realm, because they were the product of broken worlds. Caught between times, between fragments of souls, between a society at war with itself, it was likely they would never find peace. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d sat at a bar, looking like Toki and talking like Toki until she lost herself in booze and men and violence.

Jasper must have been the next thing on her mind because she found her eyes pulled to the gravity of his gaze. He was watching her with the usual placid expression, interested and yet detached by the languid curve of his brow. Maybe it was the frame of her distressed mind, but she could have sworn there was something softer, a dove-like twitch in his smile reserved just for her. I’ve seen that face before, his palliative blues said. But I’m here. You’re safe. Relax.

She blinked when she realized To-The-Nines was addressing her, his voice breaking through her reverie like bubbles popping on the surface of a flat cola. Distinct impression, yada yada, kill me, yada yada… gory details? What was she explaining, again?

Roanne sighed, shrugging her shoulders as she yanked another chilled glass from the cooler and poured out Jasper’s martini. She didn’t even glance directly at To-The-Nines, barely turning her head towards him. “Honey, I don’t know what angels you work with, but you’ve got a few things backwards. If I was crazy enough to stab someone every time they pissed me off, you’d look like swiss cheese. But you’re a well-and-whole lump of camembert, so try to lay off on crazy implications.”

The guardian then leaned over the countertop, spreading her palms over the wood with her arms stretched apart as she looked to Toki. “Anyways, don’t take the whole flashback thing too hard, mkay? Some things are worth remembering. Try to think of it as knowing you’re never really alone.”

Toki smiled at Lazarus’ words, her smile somehow lighter, easier, real. When Roanne compared him to cheese she couldn’t help but laugh – both at the image and the woman’s bluntness. It was so refreshing to hear someone speak their honest thoughts, even if they were so rude. She enjoyed the woman’s company exactly because it was liberating. You didn’t have to think about power or status or how they see you when talking to her. You could use offensive words and it was okay.

When the woman leaned over and gave her courage, Toki smiled brightly at her and nodded. “I understand. I’ll do that. Thank you, Roanne. And thank you for this as well.” She eyed the glass. “I hate the taste but it seems to work well as intended.” Then she looked past Jasper and over to Lazarus. “Don’t worry, Roanne would never actually stab you. Spit in your food… I don’t know, but I wouldn’t challenge her.” She laughed.

It was good that Roanne had finished Jasper’s drink, the click of the cold glass on the counter a tiny but pointed interrupt to the thoughts stirred up by the conversation. While he’d only been tacitly invited into the conversation by a sidelong glance and hadn’t wanted to muddy the angels with his own perspective, it had been hard as they spoke not to sigh. Though in many ways he lived the opposite of their struggle--losing nothing, remembering everything--he empathized so clearly that it was difficult not to be affected. How many times had he watched a friend, an ally, a colleague die only to return in amnesiac silence as a different person in a different life? Had he watched them age and wither, never remembering the majesty of who and what they were or reclaiming what they had?

But the moment passed in laughter, as it should. Roanne to the rescue, her casual humor and demeanor so much more helpful to this new generation of angels than soft words and platitudes. Curling his thin fingers around the glass, he allowed the melancholy to pass without returning to it and smiled to take a sip of the drink.

A bit heavy on the vermouth, but pleasantly smooth and very nearly flavorless. It would do nicely.

“Please.” Jasper added with a quiet laugh and an enjoyable alcoholic exhale, the glass raising to the angelic bartender in praise. “The last time someone spat in one of her burgers he very nearly was stabbed--there are few things in this world Roanne considers sacred, but her hamburgers are one of them.” After another sip of his martini, he turned to Tokarin and opened his mouth to say something--

And was, again, interrupted by his goddamn cellphone! This time accompanied by the mechanical tone of the doors swinging open as Alba made his gargantuan way into the restaurant. Big like a prizefighter, muscle showing clearly even through the well-tailored black suit he wore, he moved carefully between the booths to Jasper and proffered the black phone even as the angel sighed in irritation and stood. His wings drawing up so as not to be stepped on, he accepted the phone and swiped in with the same motion and a look of apology to the others, the blonde demon turning without so much as acknowledging the assembled crowd to make his way for the door.

“Is this critical?” The angel was saying, his voice weary but patient as he listened to the reply on the phone--and stopped in his tracks, one bare foot paused just before it touched the floor. All at once there was a focus about him, a sharpening as he bore down on something that apparently legitimately required his attention.

“I’m on my way. Halt the bleeding immediately, allow him to feed if necessary. Assign Barbas and Balberith to the human cells, Paladin Protocol. I will not have them devoured.” The normal folk of the restaurant seemed oblivious to the conversation, continuing their meals in peace--better that they don’t trouble themselves with such things. “Activate the wards on the lower levels, Malfas and Rahab on the doorways, Paladin Protocol. This stays contained. I’ll be there in ten.”

The phone swiped shut and Jasper closed his eyes for a moment, mind racing even as Alba moved to the door and silently held it open for him. The question, of course, was how--there was not, he knew, a loophole in the programming, not a matter of arrogance but simple fact. How, then, had--

“I apologize, but I’m afraid I’ve matters I must attend to.” He said without looking, draining the remainder of his martini in a single smooth swallow before placing the glass neatly back to the bar. “Dr. Finch, Tokarin, a pleasure to meet you. Roanne, thank you as always. Please put the drink on my tab.”

He was already walking to the door.

Pushing the front door of the town house open Lazarus peered into the kitchen. Shaylee was nowhere to be found and when he peered through the woodwork with his essence sight the rest of the people staying in the house were also nowhere to be found. Frowning he absentmindedly locked the door and walked through the kitchen. Pausing he picked up the disk Shay had left on the counter earlier and examined it.

The young woman was far more in his business than he’d expected but that was just what made her a fine mage. Taking the disk and her computer he walked up stairs and set them both on her bed. Scrawling a note he left it for her on top of the two before retrieving the rest of the box the disk had come from and setting it on her bed as well. With the task complete he pursed his lips and started down the stairs. Flicking his finger at the teapot he boiled the water instantly. It was an awful use of magic as it made him complacent but there really wasn’t much time for that. The lab needed to be checked before he went to the Academy to get his bag and tea was required. Adding free leaves from a jar on the counter he poured water into the mug and picked it up.

Trotting down the stairs he pushed open the door to the basement. Crossing it in quick strides he picked up Dracul and tucked it under his arm as he disengaged the locks on the other side of the stone wall that partitioned the basement. A door in the brickwork swung open and he crossed through it. Flicking on the light he made a beeline for his desk. The inside of the room was lined on three sides with large protruding metal shelving units with closed fronts. Some fifty or so hatches adorned the fronts of the shelves.

It was small army he had kept on hand since the tragedy and he never failed to maintain it. There was another sub basement below which housed some of the artifacts he’d felt safe moving to Loom but he just needed to sort something out with a tool he’d been working on for Shay. Lunch had given him a moment of insight. Setting Dracul down he leaned over the item and drew up his essence sight.

“I see you like to work in solitude these days, Thomas…” That voice was all too familiar to anyone that heard it. Old, gruff and full of experience. “Or did you choose to hide away from all that criticism?” There was no mocking or ridicule in the phrase, just curiosity.

Shock was all that registered in Lazarus brain at the voice and when he turned around his left hand was leveled and the lights in the room flickered as he pulled in a titanic amount of essence from Dracul, the storage shelves and basically anything and everything in the house that stored it.

Stopping Lazarus blinked away the quicksilver in his eyes and released the charge of essence and energy back into its various vessels. “Damn, you about sent me through the roof. You gotta be careful about doing that. I nearly leveled this block.” Registering the older man’s appearance Lazarus raised an eyebrow. “That’s a new look. What brings you knocking?”

The man chuckled as he took a puff from his cigar, his eyes wandering Lazarus’ body from head to toe and back. Lazarus hasn’t aged at all. No surprise really, knowing him. “I like how you always assume that these visits are never casual… But then again, they never were.” His sharp green-eyed gaze veered away from the Necromancer and towards an antique recliner that looked awfully comfortable. “But I thought I’d break the monotony of our usual end-of-the-world meetings. Mind if I take a seat?”

Lazarus gestured and flipped his own chair around. No arms, the usual so that he could sit on it and rest his arms on the back of it. Settling in he snatched the mug from the desk and held it between his hands as his arms rested lightly on the back of the chair. “The reason your visits were never casual has to do with the fact that Loom has sat on the brink of crisis for the better part of two hundred years. We never had a chance to actually talk.” Sipping at the tea Lazarus appraised Solus carefully. It was strange seeing him in a fully human form.

“So what do you want to talk about? And the answer to your earlier question is: both. The younger generation finds me less appealing than they once did and frankly I’ve found silence and solitude help with my creative process.”

Solus casually strolled over to the recliner and took a seat, legs crossed and resting an elbow on one of the arms. “You always had a knack for art. Nice painting of me, by the way. Adding your own essence into each stroke of the brush really adds some… spiritual texture to it.” He said with a smile remembering something Lazarus tried to do a long time ago in the room where the painting rested. He leaned a little towards the Resurrection Mage as he answered his question. “And I want to talk about you, these last 20 years…”

Frowning Lazarus swirled the tea in its cup. There was no way in heaven, hell or earth Solus could have seen the painting in his study in Finch’s Loft. Which raised an awful lot of suspicions but that was no doubt about to be part of the rest of the discussion. Finishing off the tea Lazarus set the cup down and folded his arms on the back of the chair. “Where do you want to start?”

Solus leaned back into the recliner, and gestured at lazarus with an open hand. “Wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Let’s start with the part where you neatly up and vanished. Not exactly a new trick for you but I figured when Hazumi went missing and the general flow of things went sideways you might turn up again. Guess I was right but just a fair bit later than I was expecting. So what have you been up to? My life has been rather boring since the Herald incident.” It was a true enough statement; training the generations of musicians and wielders the Academy had been pushing through had consumed the vast majority of his time. After Iris vanished it had meant much of his life had been dedicated to the Academy.

“Really now… I wouldn’t consider your recent acquisition to be boring. What was her name…” Solus’ eyebrows frowned into a false attempt at concentration. “Shaylee Carter, was it? Quite the talent.”

“Shay has no idea what she’s gotten herself into but I couldn’t exactly turn away the opportunity to train one of the first spirit Necromancers in existence. Besides that, she’s way too full of herself. We finished her soul Vessel not a day ago and she still doesn’t know what its for. I don’t do the whole, mentoring a replacement thing well. Too much time worry about what would go sideways in the wrong hands. Then again she’s a hell of a lot less angry at the world than you and I ever were so I’d call that a win.” Shifting his weight forward Lazarus chuckled mostly to himself.

“Hmm…” Solus hummed thoughtfully. “Spirit Necromancy is only a temporary thing. Her training will only be fruitless in the end. This current state of the world is only temporary. It will sort itself out naturally.” Looking off into the distance, he smiled to himself. “But I was most impressed with Andri’s exorcism. That… was an interesting watch…”

The last comment caused Lazarus eyebrows to shoot up. “Well I’ll be damned, you have learned a few new tricks haven’t you? Not a single ward has been tripped or tampered with and you’ve been in this house twice. To top it off you’ve been in Finch’s Loft which should be impossible without my permission. So. What did you pull off Solus? Your knowledge of things you shouldn’t know is significantly more vast than the last time. That and you know the current state of the world is temporary.” Turning the thoughts over in his head Lazarus pursed his lips. “You could have found something in hell, but I doubt that. What did you manage to do?”

Solus shook his head and chuckled. “Glad you are catching on. Let me give you another hint…” Lazarus blinked, and they were surrounded by an ocean frozen over. Icy winds howled in between them as they still sat in their chairs. Lazarus looked up, the atmosphere was thin, and a foggy Cyan, with specks of stars gleaming through. But the most eye catching spectacle, was of the horizon. The enormous mass of Jupiter, loomed over them, the Red Eye Storm clearly visible as to twirled violently along the equator of the gas giant. The realization hit him. They were on Europa. One of Jupiter’s many moons. “This is my favorite view in the Solar System…”

Lifting his head off of the back of the chair Lazarus didn’t react as he took in the view. “God damn.” The comment was intentional as he was fairly sure he’d never used the phrase in his life before that moment. The hysterical chuckle that followed was a sound Lazarus wasn’t aware he could actually make. Setting his forehead on the chair back he let the chuckle die out. “And to think that I almost through the seed of a cold fusion star at you earlier. Well this was on the list but much farther down the list than I’d like to admit.” Not bothering to look at Solus, Lazarus stood up and walked a little ways away from his chair to stare up at the sky.

“I don’t want to know how you did it but I do want to know how the hell you survived. It's bad enough that I can’t be killed permanently. Most days I’m still not sure that was the correct decision.” Tilting his head he drew up his essence sight and stared at the universe from a totally new perspective. A unique one. Something no one else would be able to see. There was no way he could capture this one on canvas but he was going to try.

Turning around Lazarus raised his eyebrows prompting. “So let’s hear it. What’s Lucy and Dad like?”

Lazarus blinked again, they were back in his office. The sheer magnificence of Europa gone. Replaced by the now drab room. Solus looked at Lazarus with a smile. The Mage’s face looked of sheer childlike curiosity now, pure wonder. “You will see them for yourself, in due time.” Solus answered. “One thing I can say is that Aaurus doesn’t take too kindly to new neighbours.” He extended his free hand with his palm facing the ceiling, glass began to form from thin air, shaping itself into a whiskey glass. Then, it slowly filled with a gleaming transparent brown fluid. Some form of whiskey.

The whiskey glass gently floated down onto the palm of his hand, his fingers curling to take a hold of it. “You should paint that view, Lazarus.” Solus affirmed. “It’s quite something.”

“That’s certainly the plan.” As if to mock Solus, Lazarus plucked his tea mug again and with a roll of his wrist rearranged the water in the air and replicated the components of the tea by patterning the dregs. The heat was the easy part. “I’d imagine he was less than thrilled, and I will most certainly be painting that.” The grin on his face was huge. “So, now the real question: What rules do you play by now? Given omnipotence and omniscience there have to be at least a few or life isn’t interesting.”

“Why do you think I took on a human appearance? It would be boring if I showed up all godlike and shouted Biblical quotes.” Solus said chuckling. “I can’t just click my fingers and magically fix everything wrong with the Three Worlds. Aaurus granted you all free will for a reason. Me messing with mortal affairs would ruin the whole point of it. Why grant it, when you will just take it way anyway?” He took a sip of his beverage during his pause. “All Gods in legends, and even Aaurus himself, the real deal, have intervened on occasions. But those interventions were huge in scale. Granduous. I prefer a more… indirect and gradual approach.”

Tilting his head Lazarus gave him a knowing nod. “Absolutely, By the way. I’m glad someone appreciates my name now. That particular heretical text has always been quite enjoyably actually. I’m sure it pisses Lucy off though.” Taking another taste of his tea he narrowed his eyes another wicked grin spreading over his face. “Okay. How do you solve The Problem. Or can you? Can you surmount the Paradox? Can you make a rock large enough that you can’t lift it?.....” Lazarus paused. “...Or are you even Omnipotent in the traditional sense of the word?” Pursing his lips Lazarus contemplated. With that the resurrection mage looked around his work space. This meeting was something else entirely than he’d expected. “So. The fact that you’ve shown up in my house and been paying attention to me. There is no way that is a coincidence. Not only that but it’s hardly indirect; what do you need from me? I’m not guaranteeing that I trust you quite yet. Given that for all I know you could be Aaurus posing, but that seems highly unlikely. So spill. You might not be able to act, but that absolutely doesn’t preclude me.” He paused. Menacingly. “Unless it involves hurting Hazumi. That I will Not be participating in. Although I would hope you wouldn’t come to me about something like that.”
“Hazumi has known about me for the past 20 years. And she kept that information from you. If I wanted to hurt her, I would have done so 20 years ago.” Solus replied ever so casually. “I can exist everywhere at once if I choose to. I can turn the clock in any direction, or even stop it entirely on a whim.” Solus put the cigar to his lips and snapped his fingers. The very gravity below Lazarus’ feet gave way, making him gently float towards the ceiling. “I can even change the rules of physics.” Solus took the cigar out of his mouth again and continued. “Speaking of which. I can’t make a rock that I can’t lift, if I can adjust the effects of it’s own weight, no matter how big I make it.”

Lazarus folded his arms mid air. “So you aren’t omnipotent. Not only that, you might be able to exist everywhere at once but it would seem you can’t exist anywhen at once. Although it's nice to know you can roll the clock back. However, given the fact that you haven’t always existed I’m guessing you can’t predate your apotheosis. Otherwise Aaurus would have known of your existence as a god prior to your apotheosis. It's interesting to know you are omnipresent too; that must be handy.” Another long pause caused him to consider the comments. “Now that I think about it, I guess that's not really a necessary condition...I’d assume you can’t act in the past.” Further pausing he folded his legs a few feet above the ground and grabbed his ankles to keep his legs neatly folded. “This clearly requires further rumination given that there appear to be limits on your abilities but the scope of them in general pushes this further into the realm of philosophical than I probably care to consider at the moment.”

The fact that Solus had just told him that Hazumi had been keeping something from him for so long made him rather morose. They’d had it out when his memories came back but he’d thought that was the end of it. Regardless, it was no doubt Solus fault; not that he blamed the god for it. “Right.” Flipping himself over so he was firmly planted with his feet on the ceiling Lazarus grinned down at Solus. “So what do you need the long arm of the Heir Apparent of the East Realms of Hell for?”

“Omnipotence will come in time… A few hundred years or so. This whole “god” thing is still new to me.” Solus sighed, snapping his finger and forcing Lazarus back to earth again.

Flipping himself neatly Lazarus landed firmly on the ground before folding his arms. “You’re avoiding the question. I get the distinct impression you didn’t come here for me to study you so you must have something in mind. Not that I’d mind if you just came to talk. I would imagine it would get kinda boring just interacting with Lucy and Aaurus but that’s just me.” Patiently shifting his arms Lazarus still maintained the grin of someone who had almost forgotten what it was to be excited by new knowledge.

Solus’ face went solum for a moment as he pondered on what to say. “I have a mansion… at the peak of Mt. Jigger. It’s built on top of old Vault, built in the 1960s. It’s a Pandora’s Box of natural anomalies and things alien to this world, and I can no longer be its guardian, as it’s… a mortal affair, as Aaurus put it.”

Snorting Lazarus shrugged. “So what? I have my own things to curate. You should know what I have locked in my basement. What do you want me to do about your collection?” Already calculating Lazarus considered what he might actually have to do to move a collection like that. To top it off he was fairly certain there were beings in Solus collection which was something altogether different from what he had. That being said… Lazarus shook his head. “Yeah I get the problem but what did you want me to do about it?”

“I’m not asking you to take it over, Thomas. I’m asking you to find someone capable. What that place conceals… is unimaginable.” Solus stated firmly, taking another puff of his cigar. “I doubt the combined powers of Myself and Aaurus can even stop it…”

The response caused a deep frown from Lazarus. “Who the hell else is qualified to do such a thing? Ian is barely capable of higher order magic, Shay is not nearly far enough along, Hazumi is missing and otherwise engaged, I’m not aware of any other human mages that even approach the level required to take over a position as a warden like that. Did you have someone in mind?”

“Actually, Shaylee will be more than capable, given time. Which, luckily, we have plenty of…”

The annoyed look that flashed across Lazarus face was quickly stifled. “Oooh. You expect me to live forever.” Lazarus chuckled before sitting back down. “I guess you’re right. That being said. Shay’s magic is going to take much longer than mine. How long can it go without a Warden? Shay has barely scratched the surface of Evocation, Necromancy and Alchemy. What with the inevitable end of her spirit magic.”

“Until it’s power source fails, which is unlikely. I’m more concerned about what’s at the very bottom of it.” He froze for a moment, his eyes becoming glassy and distant. He was witnessing something in his mind. “We have 28 years… merely a small moment…”

Shaking his head Lazarus contemplated. “She’s not going to be ready fast enough. I had a hundred years and I’m an unquantifiable genius and I have Savant Syndrome. We’ll have to find a way to speed up her uptake.”

“Her experiences will prepare her.” Solus replied matter-of-factly, standing up out of his seat. “I have witnessed a multitude of futures, and hers is the best one. So… send her into the fray. You learn quicker when your life is on the line.”

Raising an eyebrow and glaring at Solus, Lazarus finally chuckled “Yes I’m sure that wasn’t a joke about me now.” Standing Lazarus offered his hand. “Let me know if there is anything else that needs doing. Just don’t expect me to start praying to you or anything”

“I’m not one for worship anyway.” Solus took Lazarus’ hand and shook it.

Nodding Lazarus turned around “Here let me give you an opportunity to make a dramatic exit.”

“I think I’ll walk out, thanks.” Lazarus could hear the man’s footsteps behind him as he walked towards the door, which creaked open and closed. The thuds of Solus’ feet gradually getting duller as he went deeper into the house, eventually with their sound vanishing entirely.

Lazarus single loud coughing laugh followed the man turned god out of his house.

Things were becoming interesting in Loom again.

With quick steps Lazarus walked out of his house and towards the Academy. In a couple of minutes his strides took him to the front of the academy and through the outer gate. The other evening he’d left his bag in his office and it had a few things in it that he needed. There was a piece of the black journals that he needed.

The students in the hallways that recognized him either avoided him or gave him wide smiles and: Welcome back Master Lazarus. Tugging the edge of his Longshoreman’s cap down he kept moving. It was quite the experience being back in the Academy in the middle of the day; it was strange really. Slipping into his office he lifted the bag off its hook in his office. Looking out the window at the grounds of the Academy. Once upon a time the view had been one head enjoyed mostly from a window further down the hallway. It was...hard to see things like this and not feel her. Just down the hall. Quick steps away from the arms of someone who loved him. Now it was empty.

Lazarus shut the door to his office and started down the hallway towards the exit. Skirting by an open door he looked in. It was one of the side doors to the grand ballroom; pausing Lazarus stared at the piano that stood off to one side. Dropping his bag and his coat by the ballroom door her took off his hat and tossed it on the bag. Walking into the room he closed his eyes and extended his hands Lazarus ran essence from the blade of Dracul in large amounts as he let memories flow through him. The essence spun across the ballroom clinging to the memories Lazarus spun across the room. With steps like a stone across water the ethereal hands of his beloved reached out and he took her hands as he stepped into a waltz. Moving across floor he turned the essence thread version of Hazumi in the ballgown she had worn for the newest class of students.

As he reached the piano he let her spiral away from him and back into the crowd of students he’d created from essence and memories. Sitting at the piano he opened it with smooth hands and slid his fingers down the length of it. As the essence he’d let free of Dracul bled away Lazarus set his fingers to the keys and let them dance across the white keys set in the jet black of the piano. The melody resounded within the ballroom; on its own it practically brought back all the ghosts he had seen dancing there in the ballroom moments ago. This time it brought back a parade of memories: Iris, Ian, Mary, Solus, Hazumi, Shaylee, and then the final spectre. She danced across the floor of the ballroom on her own as his tune switched to something else entirely.

Kathleen turned slowly and met his eyes before she vanished once again into the void.

@caits

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Misty knew she should probably be doing something, with her time. Some sort of study, or class, but she found that she didn't particularly want to do anything right then. Slightly troubled, although she didn't know why, She always felt like that after receiving a letter from back home. Sometimes she felt that they merely kept that contact open, should she wish to return. If she failed. She loved the little town, and yet, she couldn't help but fell like she'd been a burden to them. In the two years since she had come to the acadmey, Misty had done all she could to send what aid, money or otherwise, that she could to the little town that had, at one time, been everything she knew.

She just never knew how to reply to the seemingly daily lives, so distant to her now, of people she had known her whole life, who had raised her. Layla is having a baby the happiness in that single sentence both thrilled and saddened her. She had played with Layla, the girl was the same age as her, and the htought that Layla was taking another path to what Misty was was saddening. At the same time, she knew that Layla would be thrilled to have a child. Jack's illness is getting worse. FOr as long as she had known Jack, the man was always complaining about one illness or another. Was this just another ploy? Authur is getting married, to Ginevera. Just how was she meant to respond to that? That guy she'd had a crush on for most of her life, getting married to someone Misty had hated?

It just couldn't be done.

Her hands reached for the harp, never far from her, as if to take comfort from it, playing a few notes, she let it trail off, shaking her head. Flooded with thoughts and feelings that weren't hers, she let herself float along with them a moment, before deciding to find something she could do. Maybe hitting something would make her feel better. She slid the harp into the holster she had made for it along her back, thankful it was only small. When first carrying the harp around, it had been a challenge, but she had adjusted, her body had become stronger. And now it was easy.

She wandered for a time, stumbling across the ballroom, she was a little surprised to see someone there. She watched them for a moment, realising she might be intruding on something, she shifted awkwardly, She didn't particularly inteact with others easily, or deliberalty make an effort, She recognised Lazarus, but that didn't mean she had to approach.

Still, she found herself clearing her throat, and saying awkwardly, "I'm sorry, Sir, i didn't mean to interupt..."

@Themerlinhawk@Caits

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Barachiel chuckled at the student on the ground. "Never underestimate your opponent" The girl huffed and stood. She looked exceedingly frustrated at the currently bare chested angel. He tilted his head and watched as she made her next move. She charged him and he moved almost elegantly away and smacked her with a wing. "Do not be so predictable" The girl seemed to growl at him and this time managed to pretend she was about to lunge but instead kicked his legs out from him. She then held the blunt practice sword at his throat and seemed quite proud of herself. Then she managed to finally realize she was on top of him...and blushed hard.

A chuckle echoed from him as the girl seemed paralyzed and he gently flipped her off of him. "Much better." She nodded and gathered her things before scurrying off. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair causing rainbows of color to dance through the strands. He scooped up his shirt and started wandering, his white combat boots not making a sound as he moved. He had to admit he did favor the academy and the surrounding area to the rest of his region...though his duty made him impartial.

As he walked throngs of students parted. A few whispered others started at his wings. Nothing he was not used to by now. He then paused. Piano A small smile played on his lips and he followed the sound like a cat stalking a mouse. He paused by the ballroom spotting a girl in the entrance way. A girl...with a harp. He silently slipped behind her and studied the case. A small one, but it must be a special harp. Especially considering where he was most likely this was a magic harp. He then blinked when she spoke...this one was an awkward one.

His wings folded more neatly as he looked over the girl at the man playing the piano. He recognized him, but like many cases he never really interacted. You would think someone oozing this much power would actually interact with those around him more and maybe even know the names of the pupils he helped, but he acted more like a cat. There, but more as a presence. He continued to stand...his 6 foot 4 self almost looming behind the girl...and watch to see what would happen.

Fading off the end of his playing Lazarus looked up at the girl standing in the doorway before he beamed at her. “Misty. What an unexpected pleasure.” Toying with the last few notes of the refrain he’d finished off on he realized his note book wasn’t with him and that it might actually require him to cross the ballroom again to grab it from his bag. The young girl wasn’t exactly a prodigy at anything in particular but she had the same general aptitudes that Ian had; if without the opportunity to master a martial arts system before she turned eighteen like the young man had. The average students were the best in his eyes. His students who had everything come easily to them were a waste of his time until they found something difficult to practice and the particularly horrid students really should have been sent home to keep them safe. Then again the strongest steel was often forged in the hottest fires.

Turning his hands to the keys he played gently across them. “Come here, seeing my students is like hen’s teeth of late.” Looking up again he noticed the Weather angel behind her. Barachiel? That sounded right. The Academy had such a varied staff now it was hard to keep up sometimes. Gesturing at him he snapped his fingers and one of the stacked chairs on the edge of the room slid forward. Scooting over he gestured to the pair again. “Come on don’t be shy. I know both of you can play so you might as well help me out here. Grab my bag while you’re at it Misty? I need my note book. It’s been so long since I bothered to compose anything and it has all been for Violin lately. The Piano just looked so lonely; I figured that it could use some love.” Sliding over more he patted the seat and gestured to the chair. “Come on. Come keep me company for a bit, ya?”

Smiling to himself he continued to play with the end of the melody gently waiting patiently for the pair to come join him. He was fairly certain Misty hadn’t even noticed the angel.

@Caits@BlackPanther

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Misty shivered lightly, as a shadow fell over her. She knew she was average height for a woman, but she didn't like to be loomed over. She shifted uneasy, feeling like she was trapped, she was just about to turn around and see who was standing behind her, when Lazarus spoke. She squirmed as he beamed at her, a little flustered. She could do this. Reaching up to brush back a strand of hair behind her ear, and stood up straight, feeling the presence behind her again, she looked back, almost stumbling back as she saw the tall figure there, perhaps close to a foot taller then her, and she was sure she saw wings. Angel. Stepping back, she stared at the angel for a moment.

"Well, you certainly have a...presence. Do you always stand over girls like that?" she said, but smiled and her tone suggested she was being humorous. She glanced back to Lazarus, hesitating another moment, wondering if she wanted to get into such a situation, before she grabbed the bag, and approached Lazarus, setting the bag down near him so it was in reach, she stepped back. She wasn't too sure what she should do.

She grimaced at herself, wondering why she felt so...awkward? Why? Because she'd interrupted someone? She shook her head at herself, drawing a breath, and standing up straight once more. She glanced at both the angel and Lazarus, she slid onto the seat, listening as the notes faded away, she rested her hands on the piano, fingers resting on the keys. She couldn't imagine not being able to play. Music was in her blood. It was apart of her very essence, and to live without it for a day just wasn't plausible to her.

She played a few notes, not even stopping to think about Lazarus, the angel. She simply couldn't help it. Piano's were marvelous instruments, able to someone sound more graceful then a lot of other instruments. She still found her harp a greater instrument, but she was bias. She knew that. She gave a soft, contented sigh. "Music is just amazing" she said, more to herself then anyone else, choosing to stare at the keys then either man.

@Themerlinhawk@Caits

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Barachiel blinked. A sudden very sheepish look swept across his face and he shook his head opal locks swirling with color at the movement. "I apologize I did not mean to...loom." He rubbed his neck with his free hand considering the other still held his shirt. He quickly pulled it on...once he realized he had forgotten to earlier, his wings folding and moving through the slits with ease. Somehow the talons sitting on them managed not to shred it an impressive feat on its own. Only one part of his usual attire was missing, his white rose. When he trained he did not keep on one him.

He then tilted his head at Lazarus. "Play yes. piano...not as well as I would like." He paused. Part of him wanted to sit down and learn more, but the other part wanted to contribute with what he already knew. He decided on what he already knew."I shall return" With that he took off toward a different room vanishing for a few moments to grab something.

When he returned he held a flute case and opened it revealing his personal favorite of all he could play. A glass flute with a ship on it. He silently made his way over and sat on the ground with his wings cascading around him. He inhaled before playing interweaving notes with the piano. His eyes shut as he played as if he and the music were one. While not magical in any sense, music was truly one of his escapes from reality. His fingers moving with a gentleness that would not be expected of someone like him.

His eyes opened at the sound of Misty's voice and a small curve of his lips showed agreement before he dived back into the notes. The gas gave a different sound then traditional metal flutes and while simply made was still beautiful. Some would argue the glass was harder to play due to the sheer fragility of it. But, Barachiel did not mind this. Rather, he preferred the sound it made.

The smile on Lazarus face was massive as Misty started into the music and nodded along as Barachiel joined in on his flute. It was such a nice distraction from the worries of the day. Sliding his hands down the keys he followed Misty’s lead on the music using the lower half of the full grand piano. It was amazing working in a school where the majority of the students were musicians made life some much more enjoyable. It was quite clear that both of them were talented as there were few if any disharmonies in their improvisation. Continuing to make use of the other half of the piano Lazarus let the enjoyment of the moment suffice him and for the first time in the last two weeks he was happy again.

As the three of them finished up with the melody Lazarus chuckled. “You know it really is quite a joy working for a school where all of the students are relatively talented musicians.” Carefully closing the cover for the keys on the piano he turned to look at the two of them. Pulling a notebook from his bag he began to take note of the main melody. “I hope I didn’t pull you two away from anything important. I appreciate your willingness to humor me.” Looking up at Misty he tilted his head. “Your studies coming along okay? I’m sorry I haven’t exactly been present lately.”

Giving Barachiel a look he nodded at the weather angel. Barachiel had been around almost as long as he had though his position within the academy was much more akin to that of a quite guardian and assistant to the students. Turning his attention back to Misty he waited patiently for her to bring him up to speed on her progress.

@BlackPanther@Caits

Shay poked her head around the corner of her room and peered down the hallway in probably the most suspicious manner possible. She’d heard Lazarus say he was leaving for breakfast, she knew where they were going so she could follow at her own pace. That left the two boys unaccounted for but given that she’d locked herself in her room last night and go right to bed she wasn’t sure if Andri was still there. Creeping down the hallway in her cami and short shorts. Now was the time. Sneaking into Lazarus room she closed the door and began her search.

Quite a while back she had noticed a collection of disks that were titled “Herald” She knew that there had been an incident in Loom a few years back and it had to do with Lazarus. A new search had turned up quite a bit on the subject but she had to wonder why Lazarus had the collection of disks.

It was morning. It felt like it hadn’t been morning in a month. Not the physical definition of the time of day, but the subjective one, the “morning” that followed “a night” and “sleep”. A veil had been lifted and the world had regained its colour, its smells, its vibrancy. It was magical.

He scoffed as he got up. It had been magical, of course. Lazarus had been kind enough to offer him to stay overnight and Andri had been too exhausted to refuse. He had been too tired to shower as well which he fixed quickly. Then he stared at his phone for a while, wondering if he should contact Kanna. Deciding against it, he slipped the device back in his pocket and went out of the guestroom once again completely dressed.

He had someone to thank. And he had no idea where to find her. But interestingly, he didn’t have to look for long. Her figure was sneaking out of a room in a very suspicious manner that made his eye twitch. She noticed him but as soon as she did, he turned his face away, pretending not to have seen her. My first gift for you he thought as he walked towards the kitchen, flowers in hand hoping she would come find him when she’s ready.

Pawing through the boxes in the top of Lazarus closet Shay narrowed her eyes as she seized upon a box. The disks were in it; with quick fingers she tapped through them. Taking one of them out she peered around his room once more before sliding out of the room and stalking down the stairs towards the dining room. She needed her laptop which was no doubt still in the living room.

Turning the disk over in her hands she was lost in thought as she walked into the kitchen; stay ringlets of her hair blocked her vision as she contemplated her find. Looking up she froze and her eyes went wide as she noticed Andri. Rather slowly she lowered the disk to her side as though it were nothing in particular. “Good morning. How are you feeling?” Her voice all but squeaked.

Come on pull it together. You weren’t doing anything wrong, well...that wrong. Lazarus is still keeping shit from you. It’s really his fault.

Shay made a beeline for the teapot doing her best to act normal. Shit. Her laptop was sitting on the dining room table.

Andri's eyebrows arched - apparently she hadn't noticed him after all. She was holding something and feeling obviously guilty about it. He didn't question her but as she stepped around him a smirk blossomed on his lips and he dropped the toast he was buttering to turn around and watch her better while leaning on the counter. “I'm okay, thank you. Alive and healthy, thanks to you.” He reminded her that he wasn't contagious, although an under note in his voice was definitely teasing. It vanished with the next sentence, which was as well-meaning as intended. “So I got you these.” He reached behind and withdrew a large bouquet in greens, whites and pinks that he'd somehow managed to get yesterday night. He'd been too tired for anything else but this couldn't have waited. “Lazarus told me you like camellias.”

The look that blossomed on Shay’s face was pure shock at the gift he presented. It took her a few minutes to gather her thoughts before she smiled. “Thank you, I love them. You didn’t have to do that.” Taking them she turned to one of the cabinets and hunted for a vase. Taking it down she stuck it under the water still staring at the flowers as she set the case down on the counter. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Its funny but I’ve never tried to separate souls before or I guess parasitic essence from a soul. In theory it should be rather straight forward. But it’s different when it's actually a person.” Pushing her hair back over her ear it was clear she felt bad about suggesting he was just a project. “Lazarus makes it all so impersonal when he talks about dealing with essence but it's so...not...in fact it's the exact opposite.” A smile curled at her lips and she suddenly snapped around and shut off the water before setting the vase on the counter and adding the flowers to it.

“Although I see you have a super power too, finding flowers at such an hour.”

It was playful and she followed it with a teasing smile; the disk sat forgotten on the counter.

Andri chuckled and rubbed his forehead. “Untangling souls doesn’t sound easy to me at all. I can barely see essence and even then it’s only thanks to my weapon. But I can’t blame Lazarus for misleading you. Teachers at the Academy are on a completely different level than most of us, and even among them Lazarus is special. Either way, I have to admit I’m impressed. I’m sorry for doubting you at the start.” Feeling slightly embarrassed he turned back to his toast, put some salt on it as well and bit into it hungrily and spoke through it with a smile. “Which begs the question, how quickly can you get dressed? Unless that’s what you wear outside, of course.”

Shay shook her head and waved her hand “Please. I’m barely an adult and frankly I wouldn’t trust me either. You know the first time I came into contact with something like magic I was kinda drunk. So this is a much better start for us I should think.” Blinking Shay looked down at herself. “Oh. Crap.” Blushing she tucked the rest of her hair over her ears. Looking up at him she chuckled. “This is as close of a peek as you are getting. And as for the essence things it's really not as great as you think it is. It really just...complicates shit.” Looking up at the stairs she considered for a moment. “Like. Ten minutes maybe? Depends. Do you want make-up or not?” The playful grin was back as she stood hands on her hips and an eyebrow quirked. “Don’t make a lady wait.”

Andri almost choked on his bite as it got in the way of laughing. “It depends on what you intend to do with me!” Now she was definitely flirting with him and he could have pointed out that there’s at least three more (innocent) ways to see more of her but he didn’t. Instead he demonstratively looked at his watch as he finished his toast.

Rolling her eyes Shay turned and started up the stairs. It felt like a no make-up day. Something about Lazarus being gone and Ian being strangely absent. The dressing didn’t take long and neither did the pony tail since her hair decided to cooperate with the brush. Turning her head she looked at her face in the mirror. Yeah, it was a no make-up day.

Turning she walked over to her bed and pulled out the trunk underneath it. Unlatching it she pulled the top up and contemplated the contents. In Finch’s Loft there was an armory; it was anyones guess why Lazarus maintained the damn thing considering she’d never seen him touch a firearm beyond teaching her how to use them. The trunk held her gear and it was significantly smaller and less deadly. Fishing in the truck she retrieved a subcompact handgun and the lower back holster for it. Plucking two more sets of items from the trunk Shay hooked a pair of cylinders slightly larger than old fashioned film roll containers onto the back of her belt. The second pair of items were rectangular and the length of her arms which was where she strapped them. A gift from Lazarus, the lethal kind.

Pulling a hoodie on over her long sleeve shirt. With a final look at herself in the mirror Shay headed down the stairs. “Okay where are we off to?” she said as she rounded the stairs.

Khepri. Stay.

Andri gave her an approving smile and a nod. “I asked Lazarus what you like and he didn’t really say ‘flowers’ but what he said was impossible to get at night-time. So… Unless you mind, we’re off to see the Academy’s private collection of Egyptian magic and rituals.” He beamed as he offered her a buttered toast. “Breakfast on the go is included.”

Shay’s mouth dropped. The look in her eye was that of girlish delight. “You’re kidding me.” Taking the toast she grabbed his hand. “Come on, let’s go. Forget Lazarus and Ian. You fucking rock.” Dragging him by the hand Shay pushed the door open and tugged Andri after. Kicking the door closed and snagging the lock mechanism with essence she pulled it closed. “Flowers, Private Egyptian collections, and a cute guy. Let's go.” Shay’s ears turned pink at the last comment. “Don’t let that go to your head, yeah?”

Andri couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm and the utterly confused messages she was sending. It had been a while since he’d managed to do that carelessly. “As you wish, princess.” He joked and let her lead the way.