[IC] The Three Realms War [Act II] [DMC/Bayonetta/Darksiders Crossover]

[kapuchu]

Malvvosia admired the massive web she had spun, its shimmering glory giving her a feeling of pride. While it was not the prettiest she had ever spun, it was by all accounts, the largest she had ever made. Using the burnt remains of the forest she spun a web that stretched from one end of the forest to the other, going several meters deep to ensure maximum trapability. It had taken several hours, but the result was a new wall, made up of countless threads, yet as strong as steel and coated in a sticky substance that burned like acid—almost—anything that touched it.

With the work complete, Malvvosia returned to her more prefered form, slender limbs, massive raggedy wings, and an actual mouth. The transformation took several minutes, much longer than it took to revert to her true form, as it was not easy to fit so much demon into so slender a body. The transformation was completed, however, and with a careless push of her clawed feet, Mal found herself soaring through the air and back into the city proper, the rubble beneath her crushed by her take-off. Using her wings like a parachute, she landed gently on a rooftop near the building where the missions were distributed.

She spent a short while contemplating whether to return for more work, or if she should just piss off for a short time, and listen to some music while people watching. She had only just begun to contemplate getting her claws on some udon, during her people watching session, when she noticed a familiar figure sitting outside the building she was currently perched upon. It was difficult to tell exactly what she was doing from so far away—Mal guessed drawing—but it was clear who the fair half-demon was, and, more importantly, she was alone. Seeing a chance at having another stimulating conversation—and hopefully less annoying with the she-bitch M.I.A—Mal decided to pay the little demon-fay a fisit.

With a considerably more controlled display of her strength this time, Malvvosia pushed off from the building she stood upon and glided down towards her target. Once again using her wings to slow her descent, Mal gently floated to the ground, touching down softly on the tips of her extended claw-toes. A cascade of raggedy black feathers rained down all around, twirling wistfully as they slowly fell to the ground.

“Good evening, Demon-Fay. Your mission was successful was it?”

---

Cassandra had chosen to sketch the skyline during the downtime between the missions, having chosen a well lit spot with an excellent view, were she to be the judge. She had, however, taken a bit of time to change clothes, having borrowed her mother’s wardrobe. The result was just a new shirt, one open in the back to make way for her newly acquired wings, should she desire to utilize them again.

However, her peaceful time of just sketching with coal, was interrupted by the descent of a somewhat familiar figure. Malvvosia, the raven-clad demoness with an ego to match her mother’s.

She looked up at the greeting, closing her sketchbook and stuffing it into her bag with deft movements.

“Bonsoir, Malvvosia,” she said, placing her now empty hands in her lap. “Can I help you?”

The demoness gave her wings a mighty flap, dislodging more ratty feathers and kicking up those on the ground. “Help?” She questioned, though did not wait for a response. “I can’t say I require assistance in any way, no.” It was difficult to tell where any of the demoness’ four eyes were looking as they were nothing but solid red, however the way her head was subtly turned towards her backpack, gave Cassandra a good idea of what exactly was occupying her attention.

“Then it is not to request directions towards my mother, so that the two of you might settle whose ego is bigger, that you are here for?” She asked, one corner of her mouth quirking upwards, for the moment ignoring the inquisitive stare towards her backpack.

“Your mother? Hells no. I am here for the demon-fay.” As if not already obvious to whom she was referring, Malvossia lifted a hand to point at Cassandra. “The far more interesting of the pair,” she tacked on.

”Moi?” She inquired, hand to her chest. They had conversed briefly during the previous day—Or was it still the same day? It had felt long enough for two—but beyond that the demoness in front of her had taken up no space in her thoughts, and she had assumed it was mutual.

To be named the ’interesting one’, however, was a curious thing, and certainly dispelled any notion that she had simply been forgotten by Malvvosia. She clicked her tongue, tilting her head thoughtfully as she looked up to meet the four-eyed gaze. “Why?” She asked.

“You’re cute, but I’m afraid you can’t quite pull off coy.” Malvvosia looked around, clearly trying to find something. After a moment she huffed and plopped herself down on the ground, crossing her legs and letting her wings rest limply behind her. “Why? What an interesting question. Like asking a scientist why they find interest in a supernova. You are quite unlike anything I have ever met. Demons are, well, like your mother and I, and half demons tend to be…” She paused, each of the four eyes blinking in succession, before she finally answered. “Well, like that white haired one who struts around with a god complex. Don’t get me started on angels, or do, actually. Might prove an interesting conversation.” The demoness smilled a—compared to the usual chesthire like grin—surprisingly normal smile.

Cassandra shook her head, too vigorously she decided when she had to tuck hair behind her ears again. “I would rather not. If you are anything like Susannah, discussing angels will not end well.” She sighed, leaning forward, arms resting on her knees. “But yes, I suppose that I am somewhat different from the usual half-demons you find. I attribute it to being raised focusing on me as a person, not what I am or what powers I possess. Say what you will about her, but my mother is good at raising children well.”

“Perhaps for the best. I have very little control over how I feel about angels, so even a well meaning and constructive conversation will end with me in a rage. We don’t all have the luxury of being the kind of person we wish to be.” Malvvosia remained silent for a moment after that. “So, what were you drawing?” She said abruptly, not giving Cassandra time to process her earlier words.

Something in her tone, however, reminded Cassandra of envy, and in the silence that followed contemplated pointing it out, but ultimately decided against it. If the—by her own admission— mere mention of angels would send her into a rage, then she did not want to have to fend off the demon for wounding her pride. She instead looked to her bag, looking back and forth between it and the demoness.

“The sky, the horizon, and whatever else I see behind you,” she offered, motioning in the general direction of forward. Again she met the four-eyed gaze, calmly straightening and leaning back against the bench. “Is drawing that peculiar to you?”

“If a pure human is doing it? No, not at all.” Malvvosia turned her head completely around to regard the view Cassandra had indicate. “It is rather lovely. You picked a good spot.” The demoness awkwardly bent one of her arms backwards, her shoulder twisting and deforming to allow the maneuver, and plucked a specific feather from one of her wings which she then threw aside. “Why were you so keen to keep your work hidden? The usual apprehension of an artist when it comes to showing their work? Or something more?” The demoness returned her arm to a more normal state of being and turned her head just enough to look at Cassandra with the two eyes on the left side of her face. “Pourquoi? S'il vous plaît.” The white slit of a smile split Malvvosia’s face in two, once more making it unclear if the top of her head was even attached to the rest of her body at that point.

‘A pure Human’? The phrasing did not sit particularly well with Cassandra for several reasons, not the least of which because of several insinuations it made. Her lips pressed into a thin line, several sentences rushing through her mind, trying to pick the most diplomatic and pedagogical. In some ways Malvvosia was a child, at least of the mind, and it was prudent to keep that in mind when talking to her.

Deciding that even an imperfect approach was sufficient when talking to the demon, Cassandra said, “You assume there are differences between me and humans, in terms of how we think,” she said slowly. “I have significantly more power than any one human, but beyond that I see no difference.” She elected to ignore the inquiries about her drawings for a time yet, focusing instead on this one topic. “I was raised by a human, among humans, and have spent my entire life knowing only my mother—and scant few others—who is of demonic heritage. It is inevitable that I would be like the humans I live alongside.”

Malvvosia’s smile faded away. “You say inevitable, I say miracle. To see your human side untainted by the demon half is nothing short of… awesome. And I use that word in the traditional sense. We’re talking on a cosmic scale here.” The demon’s head contorted back to looking at the view. “Demons, Angels, whichever, we’re nothing more than a taint on this world. Just look what our meddling has caused, what it has done to the humans. They would be better off if we did not exist at all. But you, you’re proof that there is hope for our kind existing in more...well, in a more; Sprinkle in some human, bake among humans a few years. Poof. Something worth existing.”

“It is a choice to assimilate,” Cassandra said simply. “Even the oldest dog in the world can learn new tricks, and if you so desire you can fit in. It doesn’t matter how monstrous you may appear, or how fey.” She paused, then withdrew her sketchbook from her bag, and held it out to Malvvosia, opened at the most recent page with the half-finished drawing. “Why do you think I drew that?” She asked.

“Choice...how novel…” Malvvosia’s head snapped back to forward, she then reached out with an arm that seemed to stretch, and grabbed hold of the book to inspect what she was being shown. “I assume you drew it because you liked the view and don’t own a camera.”

“You are not wrong.” She held up her hand, index finger extended, to stop any gloating. She would not put it past the she-demon. “But not right either. I did it because I wanted to. Me, Cassandra, Little Fairy, or whatever else I might be called.” She reached out and took back the book, and returned it to her bag. “You said you found it peculiar that I, as not a pure human, was drawing. But I don’t do it because of my human side, but because of what I, as a person, want.” She offered her a slightly uneven smile. “What I am is unimportant. I draw because I like to do so.”

“You do it because you have the choice to.” Malvvosia stood and rather aggressively flapped her wings, kicking up dirt and feathers, Cassandra’s gaze following as she rose. “What creatures like I have can barely be considered choice. You mocked me before for my slaying of false kings, questioned my right to judge. Choosing whom I kill and why is as much choice as I have in the matter. I was born to exact the revenge of thousands of scorned demons, their rage targeted at angles, god, everything. It is only by following the rules I created for myself that I am able to resist the call of that rage at all. Even my own choices are a cage. Other demons and angels are no better, their choices made by a basic instinct buried deep within. You think your mother is as she is because she chose to be? She was born as she is, and she is merely lucky that she has more say in how she lives her life than some of us. Do not mock others for not possessing the gifts you have.”

Cassandra could not keep her brows from rising, in a mix of both surprise and irritation. It made sense to her, that all thinking beings were as sapient as herself, and so possessed the ability to choose, but here was Malvvosia claiming otherwise, and yet she was constantly contradicting herself.

She rose as well, though she still stood nearly a metre shorter than the demoness, and looked up to meet her eyes, resolute in the face of what would have others cowering. “Vraiment?” She asked. “You have no choice, but only a cage?” She frankly did not believe that to be the case, as she had mentioned ample examples of making a clear decision. Nevertheless, there was at least one thing she could smooth out. “If what I said when we first met offended you, then you have my apologies, I speak only of what I see, however.” She paused, clicking her tongue, another thought coming to mind. ”And forgive me if I speak boldly, but you know nothing of my mother. You say she is lucky, I say she worked to get where she is. She seized opportunities and wrestled with her nature.” She walked past Malvvosia, towards the railing that lead to a sheer drop down to the water below.

“But I think there has been a misunderstanding,” she said, throwing a look over her shoulder. A silent invitation to join her for the view. She looked back towards the setting sun. “My mother will forever be a demon, I will forever be a half-demon. All those I love, I will outlive. I left my family so I would not have to bury my children, as I did my husband. These are facts that we can’t change. But,” she again looked at Malvvosia, this time turning to face her fully, “I was not talking about the ‘What’, but the ‘Who’. You are not a slave to your instincts, and neither am I nor is mother. You’ve yourself given examples of choices you have made, so treat them like a cage of your own making if you wish, but you have made decisions that go contrary to your instincts—which is simple, mindless rage, if I interpret your words correctly.” She offered her a sincere, if small, smile. “So you see? You do have choice.”

The other demoness seemed to calm, folding her wings behind her back as she walked over to the railing to have a look at the view. “A nice thought,” she began, “A small consolation perhaps, but I can assure you it is a far cry from true freedom. What I do is akin to taking medication; if I so desire I can stop taking it, but I must then face the unwanted consequences. What kind of a choice is that.” It was not a question.

“And I could choose not to eat.” Cassandra shrugged, giving Malvvosia a sidelong glance. “Just because one option is not a favourable one, does not mean it’s not a choice.” She stretched one arm out in front of her, watching her skin turn violet, green, blue, black, and back to its sun-kissed hue. “Should I desire, I could go around doing that everywhere I went, but other humans would think me frightening, and police and military would likely try to take me in.” She paused, waiting a few seconds for the words to settle in. “The point of choice, I believe, is not to get all the good things, but to be able to make mistakes and—pardon the phrase—’fuck up’, as it were. I think I understand where you are coming from, however, and while it does seem that you might be more limited than I, in what options we have, but you’re not without.” She fell silent, then, and after a bit of deliberation, opened her bag again and pulled out her sketchbook and one of her coal pencils.

“Take this,” she said, holding out a page ripped from the book, and the pencil. “If you feel up for it, draw something you like.” She aimed a mischievous smile, so often seen on her mother’s lips, at Malvvosia. “Go on. You can even keep the pencil.”

Malvvosia accepted both silently, both objects turning to black smoke and absorbing into her body the moment they touched her finger tips. “A kind gift, I shall endeavour to give it a try at some point. Should I feel satisfied with the result I may even share it with you.” The taller demon ruffled her wings, dislodging more feathers. “This conversation became somewhat more serious than I had expected it to.”

Without warning, the demoness stepped back from the railing and began to shrink not just in height, but overall size as well. Cassandra eyed her curiously as it happened, from the way her torso shortened to how it narrowed as well. Only when a inches separated their heights, in favour of Malvvosia, did she stop shrinking.

However she was not done, as her wings began to shrivel; the feathers retracting into the flesh and the bones within contorting and twisting until they were little more than stubs that disappeared into Malvvosia’s back, leaving a smooth surface behind. Her limbs followed, with oversized arms and legs coming more in line with humanoid proportions, shortening, leaving behind dainty hands with painted nails. The rest of her continued the same trend, one set of eyes closing, leaving behind a smooth forehead, and blackened skin lightening, freckles dotting her cheeks and nose, blonde hair cascading down her back.

Cassandra’s eyes widened further as the already human-looking demon in front of her plumbed up, losing her anaemic and anorexic look in favour of a healthy figure not much different from her own. Around her the smoke parted, giving full view of Malvvosia’s body—eliciting a blush from Cassandra—before rushing towards her, adhering to her skin, and forming a set of clothes, that, while appearing well made, were at least twenty years out of date by Cassandra’s estimate. Not unlike the punk-style that were popular some decades ago, a style which did not suit her, as she looked not a day over twenty, and far too conventionally attractive for it to work.

She brought neither of those things to attention, simply fighting back the image of a naked Malvvosia, when the demoness spoke, bringing her gaze up to the—now—young woman’s, Cassandra’s eyebrows rising at what she saw.

“Perhaps I shall venture into the city proper, mingle with the humans.” While Malvvosia’s eyes, unnaturally bright and orange, and a pupil shaped like a goat’s, were unnatural and distracting enough on their own, it was perhaps her voice, that drew the most attention.

“You did rather well,” Cassandra said slowly, nodding slowly, “but two things I would like to point out, is your eyes, which you admitted when we met you had trouble with. But your voice is… I had expected something light and with a lovely cadence, but you sound like someone thirty years your senior… By looks, that is.”

“Why thank you. Unlike most demon’s I have a great difficulty changing myself. The process by which I do this is...elaborate.” The humanoid demon stretched dramatically, orientating her body in different positions to work different joints. “As for your issues, I am afraid there is little I can do. If you knew what I had to do to make my eyes look even this normal, you would cringe. And my voice… I am forced to make my vocal cords by hand, so to speak. To get a voice like you describe would require a level of delicate precision that I am, shamefully, incapable of.” Malvvosia followed her comments up by unceremoniously grabbing the bra she had apparently manifested for herself, through her clothing, and adjusted it in an attempt to hike her ample bosom a little higher.

Cassandra coughed into her fist, pointedly not looking at Malvvosia’s hands and what they were preoccupied with. “Be that as it may, you need simply change the shape of your vocal cords. Their size in your case, I would think.” She put a hand to her own throat, humming with closed eyes for a few seconds, going through a range of pitches; from as deep to as high as she could make it without changing her own cords, then slowly deeped the pitch, this time making slight alterations to herself. When she opened her eyes again, she said with her voice the same as before, “I think I got it. Try to make them just a little longer. You can clearly make changes by the centimetre,” at this she motioned towards Malvvosia’s hands and fingers, “so making your vocal cords maybe half a centimetre smaller should give you a voice more in line with your… appearance, let’s say.”

She turned to face the horizon again, tracking the movement of gentle waves with her eyes, meanwhile contemplating the fact that Malvvosia and Susannah were similar in certain aspects of their preferences.

Once again there was but a brief moment of silence before it was destroyed by a high pitched screech that fluctuated and surfed through a variety of tones. It was quite clear Malvvosia was attempting to follow Cassandra’s example and fix her voice. Where Cassandra’s vocal display was elegant and impressive, Malvossia’s was reminiscent of the sounds a cat and a viper would make if they were placed in a sack together and kicked down a flight of stairs. A particular vocal concoction seemed to amuse the demoness as she stopped to laugh at —and with— it for a moment, invoking the kinds of feelings only a satanic clown could. When the auditory horror stopped, and her voice returned to something that did not induce migraines, she went to test it. “Hello… hellllloooooooo… words, words, words. Malvvosia, Slayer of false kings! Yes I suppose this is much better.” The new voice, though still a bit deeper than one might expect, was leagues better than what she started with.

Malvvosia moved to stand beside Cassandra, getting close enough they almost touched. “Well! Thank you for your advice young demon-fay. It seems to have made quite the difference.”

Cassandra removed her hands from her ears, and dared to look back up at Malvvosia. “You did well,” she said, hoping the false cheer in her voice masked the lingering headache from whatever sound it was Malvvosia had made. It took a few moments for the ringing and pain in her head to disappear, but once it did she continued with much more genuine cheer. “Bon travail. The only challenge now is your eyes. I would advise you practice. Learn how the human body is built, and shape yourself in accordance with it.” She looked up at her out the corner of her eye. “That is how mother may look as she does, even when she is akin to a perfect marble statue like you compared her to. However perfect or impossible she appears, it’s still just human features she puts together. Like a puzzle.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. For now, I am pleased enough with the voice change.” Malvvosia tapped a gentle tune out using her nails on the railing. “So… you mentioned you have children.”

While perhaps the uncouth and improper reaction, Cassandra was instantly on guard. Very few demons thought of children as anything more than playthings or tools, she had been told, and that was in the case of their own. When it came to the children of others? She chose her words carefully, keeping an eye on Malvvosia as she spoke. “I do. Why so curious all of a sudden?”

“Most demon’s treat children like pawns,” the demoness paused a moment, which gave Cassandra enough time to register her words and mentally prepare for whatever else was to come. She added, “Maybe even a rook sometimes.” Malvvosia continued to tap out the gentle tune, her other hand joining in, changing the song slightly. What started as something akin to a gentle lullaby turned into a somber sad song. “But you have already proven to be different. So I am curious to see what you think of your children. Perhaps even learn a bit about them.”

“I would prefer not to talk about them to someone who does not know them,” she said. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t cautious. Her words had very much confirmed that her own mother had told her, and it gave her no confidence that the demoness would not do something to her family should she discover too much about them. She was unfazed by the shapeshifting and supernatural displays of power, but she could say no such thing about her children and their families. She had been lived knowing she was something special, something powerful, but her children had not and she wanted to keep it that way. “I hope you understand,” she added after a while. “They believe themselves to be nothing but humans, and I don’t want anyone or anything to change that.”

The somber tapping slowed to a stop. “Oh.” The demoness fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment before resuming her tune. “I understand.”

Cassandra offered her a smile. She still hadn’t let her guard down, but at this point Malvvosia looked like the image of a young, dejected woman. It was hard not to feel some sympathy, even though she was secure in her decision. “Thank you. Now, about that drawing you wanted to make?”

Malvvosia’s smile returned, stretching unnaturally large for her human appearance. “Yes, I could use some pointers.”

[Lazo]

A low rumble reverberated from Fenn’s chest. His reptilian tail twitched nervously in almost cat-like discomfort, and the cobblestone was scratched and dented in certain places, where he had pressed against it with his claws in the restless clenching and unclenching of his fists.

It had not been long since Fenn had set an entire forest to flames in an attempt to flush out his enemy. The insult of his foe’s avoidance still stung, and his blood still boiled with the prospects of battling a mighty adversary.

The beast lay against the side of a stone building in one of the city’s plazas, eyes closed in a futile attempt to find some rest. He wished to close his eyes and follow the trail of his thoughts, as he commonly did when waiting between hunts, but in his agitated state he could not keep his ears from latching on to the sounds coming from the inhabitants of this place. For once, Fenn found himself missing the warmth and quietude of the Council’s citadel. The surrounding plaza was currently vacant, the few humans that remained outside despite the presence of the otherworldly creatures in their city had left when they caught sight of him, but he could sense that some had gathered in nearby streets. At first, they had been little more than gawkers, but it had not taken long for a proper cordon to be formed around the plaza. He could hear the exchanges between some of the men as clearly as though they were speaking into his ear.

“Any updates?”

“No sir, it hasn’t moved from its spot.”

“Good. Tell me the minute that changes.”

“Sir, do we have any word on where it came from? Did hell lose one of its war dogs?”

“Still waiting on that. Suffice to say, if it doesn’t belong to anyone we may have a problem in our hands.”

The longer he listened, however, the more difficult it was to focus on the words over the weak, rhythmic thrumming that served as the conversation’s backdrop. The hound’s forearms tensed once again as he focused on the sound of small, weak hearts and sloshing blood. In this city where the forces of the three realms had gathered he found himself wondering just how much of it could he spill before an adversary fit to satisfy him stood in his way.

However, before he could delve too far into that line of thinking, a familiar scent roused him. Fenn opened his eyes, craning his head towards one of the nearby streets as an unfamiliar woman broke through the cordon.

“Hey, Lady, wait! Don’t approach, the beast is dangerous!”

The woman—tall and bronze skinned—shrugged off the hand that tried to hold her back. “Oh please, he’s just a Pup.” She pushed back yet another soldier who tried to ‘protect’ her, this one with enough force to topple himself and a few of his comrades.

She approached in quick, long strides, not giving the continued shouts of the humans behind her any mind. Green eyes narrowed as she grew closer, meeting Fenn’s. “Isn’t that right, old friend?” She asked, lips quirking into a cocksure grin.

In that moment, a part of him dearly wished to tear that obnoxious smirk from the woman’s face. It was because of her that he found himself in this land, because of her that he had to restrain himself. Fenn had known when she had asked for his assistance that he would need patience to serve a purpose; that he would need to act against his instincts to join the chaos born of this realm’s last breath. He had promised to make her enemies his own, but it had taken but an hour before she had found herself doing the bidding of another.

“Imp,” he growled. Was it finally time to express his dissatisfaction?

The hound began to rouse himself, lifting his large body with his four limbs. Behind the woman, some of the men that had followed her began to raise weapons, only to be stopped by one of their own.

“Put those things away. Get back to the cordon and make sure no one else gets past the tape.”

Fenn glanced away from the woman, sparing the retreating men a glance. The one who had issued the order still stood some distance away, keeping watch over the two demons. Had he sent them away because he had realized they would be ineffective if he chose to attack, or because he believed that this strange woman would be the one to take care of this ‘problem’ of theirs?

Whatever the case, the momentary distraction spared him a moment to cool his head. This was not the time or place to voice his complaints. He stared back at the demoness standing in front of him. “You have returned from your search,” he observed.

“I have,” she echoed. “You as well it seems.” She took a moment to look him over, searching his expression. “You seem dissatisfied? Or is that just your usual face?” Her brows furrowed. “No, I think that’s just your usual look.”

Rather than the usual dismissive grunt to the shapeshifter’s antics, Fenn answered with a question. “Have you come to mock me?”

“It was not my intent,” she answered, playing with the tip of her braid, “but do forgive me, my assignment left a lot to be desired. I had anticipated some excitement, but all I got was a so-called golem.” She sighed, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “I’m about as bored as you are, if I had to make a guess.”

In spite of himself, Fenn let out a harsh laugh at the sentiment, so close to mirroring his own. Though that said, boredom was not a good way to describe his the tension coiling through his muscles. “It is ironic that you should say that, Imp. You see, the snake showed itself while you were away.”

“Really? For the love of, of course he turns up when I’m not there.” She crossed her arms. “Well? What happened? You looking bored and him showing up seems counter to each other. Did he beat you?”

“Worse. He vanished into the woods.”

“Oh.” She shook her head, sadly almost. “Poor trees. They must’ve been there for centuries.”

Fenn let out a long breath through his nose. A slitted eye moved to glance at the nearby humans, their captain still watching over the pair and no doubt listening to their exchange. “I tire of the vermin’s presence, Imp. Let us take this elsewhere.”

A weak slap against his leg brought his gaze back to the Imp. “Don’t be too harsh on them. They’re not used to dogs larger than they can pick up by the scruff of their neck,” she admonished playfully.

“True. The existence of your kind has been a tough pill to swallow.” The leading human chose that moment to interject, directing his remark to Lily and drawing the hound’s attention once more. “In fact, it would be best if from now someone accompanied the big fellow while in the city.”

“The pest speaks as though I am not present.” Fenn’s lifted his lip in displeasure, showing teeth as he took a step towards the man. “It ought to know better.”

The man grimaced, but, to Fenn’s grudging respect, turned to face the demon’s glare. “Fair enough, big guy. I’m going to be frank. We’re stretched thin trying to keep tabs over what’s happening in the city, and maintaining something like a sense of normalcy for the people living here. The monsters in human skin are one thing, but when something like you comes along in a populated area, we need to mobilize people we don’t have to block off whole sections of the city just for the chance to figure out if the latest monster to stroll down the street is capable of holding a conversation, or would rather rip the intestines out of the first person to come near it. I would rather not waste our time, if possible.” The man paused, as if going over what had come out of his mouth. After a moment, he added, “I say with all due respect.”

“I question the sincerity of your last statement, human.“ The hound considered the small man before him. His gaze strayed towards the nearby demoness for a moment, before he finally grunted. “I have been asked not to bring harm your kind. Beyond that one point, your brethren’s peace of mind is of no consequence to me. I go where I please.”

“I see.” The man sighed, stepping away. Once again, he addressed Lily, whom he obviously regarded as the more agreeable of the two. “In any case, don’t let me stop you from going on your way. I will tell my men to open up the plaza again in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” she said, lifting the sides of her dress and bending at her knees. Anyone who did not know better would think the gesture one of genuine respect, but Fenn knew it to be one of innumerable mocking gestures in her repertoire.

“You handled that remarkably well,” Lily noted after a few heartbeats, watching the retreating soldier.

“Forthright words demand forthright answers,” the hound retorted.

She twirled on the spot, stopping to face Fenn. “But much as he worries needlessly, he does have a point. Normal people become frightened by your presence… Maybe it’s time you learned how to hide yourself in plain sight?”

“Were you not listening, Imp?” The demon growled irritably and strode past Lily. It was obvious he did not mean to sit still while they conversed. “I care little for the concerns of these coddled apes—certainly not enough to degrade myself by concealing my nature. Let them fear. They are right to.”

Lily followed, lips pressed into a thin line. “I would appreciate if you did not call them ‘apes’. Nevertheless, them not being frightened of you has its advantages. It is easier to gain information, for one. Not only will they trust you more, but you will also find that you can get into places you couldn’t before. There is also stealth to consider. It will be easier to get the better of this ‘Vega’ if you can get close to him without him noticing. Being smaller will help with that.”

The implied suggestion that he should sneak upon the foe he wished to battle angered Fenn, and he answered hotly, teeth bared. “And what shall I do then? Strike the snake down while unawares, ending this scramble for the Seals in one fell stroke? What a convenient narrative you have weaved, Imp. An insulting one, at that. You must not know me as well as I believed if you thought I would agree on those grounds.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Really?” She asked, sounding exasperated more than hurt at the accusation. “If I wanted to suggest an ambush I would have spelled it out. So far you haven’t been able to so much as get close enough to see him, correct?” She did not wait for a reply before continuing. “Being smaller would allow you to possibly get close enough to challenge him, right then and there, and put you in a position to chase should he flee. You and I both know you’re as likely to want to make an ambush, as I am to turn into a man.”

“I assure you that none of that has to do with my size.” The hound gruffed with a surety that made the point difficult to debate, even if it remained difficult to believe. “Even if it did, a more compact form is not beyond my capabilities.”

She skipped up past him, turning to walk backwards even as she faced him. “Truly? Leaving aside the fact that your size makes you easy to spot, you claim to be capable of becoming, at the very least, smaller? Do show me, I would like to see just what kind of smaller creature the mighty Fenn can become.”

Fenn had to stop in his tracks lest he flatten the woman, and he quickly found himself cursing his loose tongue. He brought one massive hand to his face as if to ward off an oncoming headache. “What is this about, Imp? Why are you suddenly so fixated on seeing me match these vermin in appearance?”

“One part curiousity,” the demoness admitted, “but another part because it would be useful to reach our goals. There may be times when I would require your aid, and it would be in a place where you’re too big to fit in, or other times when cooperation through diplomacy, not intimidation, will work in our favour. If you will, consider it a skill you can use to get your end of our bargain quicker.”

Fenn felt the claws prickling his hide for a moment before he relaxed the grip on his head. Much as the thought shamed him, the Imp was not wrong. Being who she was, given her predilection for the apes of the third realm, he should have known she would eventually ask this of him. “Fine,” he assented begrudgingly, bringing his arm down. “If it will keep you from pestering me further, I shall show you. But not here, not in the open.”

A wide grin appeared on Lily’s face. “Wonderful.” She twirled around again, dress flaring, and started walking. “I know a place. Follow me, Pup.”

---

Seeing no reason to complain further, Fenn had fallen in line behind the comparatively small Lily. Some time passed with a smatter of idle chatter, with the woman’s occasional probes towards Fenn hesitance being answered with curt grunts and dismissive gestures. It was only when they were well on their way, and a semblance of silence had fallen over the pair, that the hound himself spoke up.

“I care little for this soft world, Imp. Neither do I wish to bathe in the blood its people, as others of our realm would. This is only the second time I make this crossing. The previous, came before we met.”

Lily gave him a sidelong look, keeping in step with him as a moment of rare, thoughtful silence surrounded her. She clasped her hands behind her back. “I am happy that you say that,” she said at length, her gaze trailing skywards. “I had feared that, whatever you ask of me once this is all over, would involve shedding their blood. I am not certain I could bring myself to do that.” She offered him a wan smile. “So for what it’s worth, thank you for not wishing death upon this world.”

“Fool. You are wrong to thank me,” he chastised. “If I do not wish for humanity’s end, it is because I do not think it worthy of notice in the first place. More than that, if I did wish for it, I would need do nothing to achieve that desire. The humans are nothing if not thorough. They shall find their end even without the involvement of us outsiders.” He grunted, clearly annoyed by the turn the conversation had taken. “The reason I say this is so you understand that, when I first arrived to this realm, it was not by choice.

“That time, I was much diminished, and the barriers isolating this realm were still intact. Much like the lowest footsoldiers of the Prince of Darkness, that resorted to possessing puppets to survive the crossing before the Seals were tampered with, neither could I exist as myself within this realm. My self was lost to me, instead replaced by one that escaped this world’s rejection.” The hound let off a long breath through his nostrils. His usually stern glare was clouded by the far-off memory, lost in the distance. “Given your… malleability, you may not understand this, but this new form was not my choice. It was simply the result of my nature clashing with this world’s. It was an indignity I had to endure for near a century before I managed to regain enough of myself to make the crossing once more.”

“If the humans destroy themselves, that is their choice, but I would stand before the flood if heaven or hell overstepped themselves,” she said with such surety, that no doubt was left that she wouldn’t. “But you were forced to change? You are right, I am not familiar with that. Here,” she pointed towards a large pair of double doors, “a storage facility. We can have some privacy in there.” She pushed open the doors, allowing entry.

“You have my condolences, then. Losing my freedom is… not something I want to imagine,” she continued, closing the doors with a low boom. She turned around, a few motes of fire flickering into existence around them for better lighting. “So? Will you show me now, old wolf?”

No sooner had she began to turn, however, that a dark shape lunged at her. For the briefest moment the thought that the warehouse may not have been as empty as she had first believed crossed her mind, but it was quickly discarded. The creature had pounced from outside of the door.

The shadow moved with alarming quickness, and mid-step as she was, she could not dodge out of the way before the thing fell on her, heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders. A row of sharp teeth were the first thing she saw of her assailant, bared in a feral grin inches from her face. Though smaller and sleeker, she immediately recognized the familiar features they were attached to with the exception of its eyes. The large wolf’s eyes were no longer slitted like a reptile’s, but round and gleaming like the animal they belonged to.

The wolf uttered a guttural growl, and had she had any doubts as to the identity of her assailant, they would have disappeared at the slight jingling of the manacles fastened to its leg, smaller though they were and with most of the chain links gone.

“I was wondering how long it would be until you jumped me, Pup, but I am still surprised it happened this soon,” she said, laughing. The dagger she held against his ribcage, its tip pressed just hard enough to be felt, betrayed her good humour. A small warning in response to the unexpected pounce. “I would appreciate it, if we postponed that for another time.”

The snarling grew in intensity for a moment, and she could spy strings of drool beginning to pool at the corner of Fenn’s lips. Before she could reconsider making actual use of her weapon, the growling ceased. The wolf reared its head, jaws clicking as they closed. A moment later the weight of its paws left Lily’s shoulders as it moved off of her.

Lily remained on her back, tilting her head to watch the animal pacing nearby, ears standing at attention and eyes staring suspiciously at its new surroundings. Now that it had stepped off Lily, she could get a better look at her assailant. Large beyond her initial impression, the creature’s powerfully muscled shoulders could easily reach up to her ribs. A tapestry of white, faded scars covered the animal’s body, leaving its dark fur to grow in thin, messy clumps over a few intact patches of hide. Somehow, only the animal’s head seemed to lack any significant scarring. Where for Fenn’s scaled body the old wounds seemed to compliment the demon’s imposing air, on this form’s comparatively smaller frame and softer hide they gave the beast a tired, tortured appearance.

“You look old,” she said contemplatively and started rolling over onto her stomach, already pushing herself up by her arms. “Wounded,” she said, her dress growing slack around her. “Sick.” Her braid undid itself, the hair pooling across her back before it melded into her body, from where black, coarse fur started spreading across her skin.

Small hands condensed, the long nails thickening to curved claws as her limbs rearranged themselves, becoming digitigrade to match her new paws. Fine, delicate features pulled forward into a canine muzzle, her previously flat teeth now larger, longer, and sharper.

Though unclear if the words had meant anything to it, the other creature in the room took notice of the change. The wolf, swung its wary gaze at the woman, lips curling warningly as its body tensed.

Within another few moments whatever remained of the human-like Lily was gone, and in her place stood a large black wolf, regal and powerful, with the remainder of her dress covering its withers. Lily shrugged off the dress and moved forward slowly to meet Fenn, her new paws quiet on the floor save for the click of her claws. Each step had her stand taller than before, going from no larger than a dog to a head larger than Fenn in his canine form—the size of a small horse.

“I can help you gain an appearance that mirrors your true self, even in disguise,” she said, yet her mouth or muzzle did not move to produce the sounds. “A form that is worthy of Fenn the Chained Hound, if you will.”

The first wolf’s ears flicked confusedly at the sound, but even though smaller than the new creature, its warning posture remained. Instead, the approach of another of its kind seemed to put it even further on edge.

Finally, the wolf’s restraint snapped, and the tension in its muscles loosened as it lunged forward with a snarl. However, before it managed to pounce on the other creature, a sudden cloud of smoke appeared to engulf it.

The smoke suddenly solidified, taking back Fenn’s more familiar appearance. “Damn you, Imp. Did you wish to provoke me?” The hellhound brought a clawed hand to its face, forcing vacant eyes back into focus. For a moment, it had been questionable whether he had been aware of the finer details of his short time while transformed, but these doubts were quashed when the hound let out an irritable grunt. “There are no worthier forms than these. Therein lies the problem.”

Lily chuckled, her mouth opened in a canine grin, her tail wagging. “Someone is territorial I see,” she noted and started circling him—her gait casual and un-threatening. “I did not mean to provoke,” she continued while studying him, ”but to demonstrate. I wanted to show you what you could become, if you put your mind to it.” She completed her circle and trotted back to her dress, shrinking herself and awkwardly shuffling into it in her furred form, before quickly reverting to her humanoid appearance.

“I can dance between species and appearance with each step I take. You should be able to at least retain yourself, while adopting a different form of your choosing.” She took her hair over one shoulder and started braiding it, weaving in a small number of ribbons as well. “To make it easier, make it similar to yourself. The colour of your fur, for example, the texture of it. Think of that covering your new body; a smaller body. The important part is knowing what you want, and then willing it to happen.” She paused the braiding to scratch her chin. “It’s not too different from your flames, I would presume. You control whether they burn or not. Apply the same logic.”

Fenn looked displeased, as usual. “Fur? You would have me take on that form again?”

She stopped herself short of palming her face, though she couldn’t stop her eyebrows from raising instead. “No.” She tied a ribbon into a bow in her braid, and let it fall, finished. “Not that form. A new one, but similar. I want you to consciously change your own body, not regress to some lesser version. Every form I take, has the potential to utilize every shred of my power, as such they are me, in every sense of the word. It is the same thing I want you to accomplish.”

A humming sound reverberated in the demon’s chest, almost hesitant. “Fine,” he said at last. “I would not have allowed this to carry on this far had I not intended to humor you.”

Lily grinned. “Wonderful.”

With that, Lily closed off the door to the warehouse, and the two demons threw themselves into this exercise. Lily continued to demonstrate her ability to Fenn, taking the time to explain the ways she channelled her magic to the given effect. Occasionally she would offer mental exercises to put her impromptu pupil in the correct state of mind. For his part, the hound repeatedly attempted to follow instructions, but be it because of his way of thinking, or some intrinsic difference in the nature of their powers, he failed to effect the minute changes that Lily requested of him. Every time the hound shifted, the scarred wolf took his place.

The lesson was not entirely without progress. With each attempt, Fenn’s hold over the lesser animal’s instinct grew. Lily held this to be a kind of progress, though not the one she had expected, or wanted. He disagreed, seeing it as little more than proof of familiarity. The animal’s instincts were no different from his, and only the ego required to balance them was lacking. After centuries without the need to adopt that lesser form, some adjustment was necessary. One way or another, a breakthrough that would allow Fenn to fine tune his appearance to the degree Lily wished for seemed unlikely, and frustration was beginning to set in over both parties.

“Cassandra had an easier time understanding this, and she was only twenty at the time,” Lily huffed, her arms crossed underneath her chest. “I’d have thought you would have an easier time, given your familiarity with our powers and nature.”

“You speak as though we are kin, Imp,” Fenn shot back, equally irritated by his continued failures, “but have you ever sought to teach this to others beside your spawn?”

She was about to answer that, of course she had, but that would have been a lie. He would probably see through said lie as well. “I have not,” she admitted. Begrudgingly. “But Shapeshifting is not a natural ability of mine, so that excuse won’t work.”

“And yet shapeshifter is far from an apt title for most demons.”

She grunted and walked to one of the shelves carrying various supplies, staring at them without really noticing what they were. “To change you need to be willing. Are you sure you’re just not too stubborn to?” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Perhaps the fact that you were forced into that state is why. It’s not your own choice.” She turned around fully, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should try a different approach. Discard the big naked poodle idea, and think bigger. Think of a human shape. Big, hairy, and a sour look on his face, is what I’m thinking. You already know how to will yourself to change into something else, so do what you do then, but decide to become a human instead.”

“So we finally aim for the point of this exercise.” The hound grumbled. “So be it, but should this fail as well, that will be the end of it. You will not bring this issue to me again.”

Fenn looked away from the demoness, stern gaze focusing on some point past the nearby walls as he once again touched the thing within himself that brought about change. His form wavered, losing consistency until the hellhound was replaced by a cloud of smoke his own size. This had been the same process he had undergone when transforming into the scarred wolf before, and it was not terribly different from the transformation that brought back the Hellhound she was more familiar with.

In hindsight, that it was not the same process she underwent with her own shapeshifting should have hinted at the difficulties she would have in getting Fenn to apply her own methods, even if she still believed the principles behind the changes had to be similar enough to her own. However, while previously the smoke had dissipated in the next moment to reveal the reduced Fenn, this time the cloud held itself together for long enough to be worrisome.

Suddenly, the smoke cloud fell, spreading over the floor before quickly vanishing. At what had been its center, a brutish man stood. Towering in height and powerfully built, the echo of the demon was clearly visible even before one took notice of the numerous scars marring the man’s dull ochre skin, or of the chains wrapped around his arms. A mane of long black hair swept back to reach past his shoulders, and the man’s severe features and sunken, close-set eyes were framed by a full, bristling beard.

The examination was facilitated by the fact that the man was stark naked.

Taking a long breath, Fenn looked down upon the unfamiliar body, lips twisting into a very human, if displeased, grimace.

“The chains are a surprise,” Lily noted with a cocked smile, “but they can be hidden with some sleeves. Well done, though. You now look like a human.”

“I believe I feel as one, too.” While still recognizable as his own, Fenn’s tone as a human was smoother than before, lacking the deep reverb that usually accompanied his words. If his deepening scowl meant anything, he was likely both aware and unamused by the change.”Soft and dull of senses.”

She started circling him, not for the first time impressed by his physique, but for different reasons this time. For one, she had assumed before that the chains were present simply because of the change being a forced one, and not of his own volition. It turned out, she realised that he simply viewed them as such an intrinsic part of himself, that he wouldn’t be rid of them.

That aside, she had always preferred to be tall among humans, but Fenn blew her out of the water for the moment. She was not shy to admit that she had met more than a few ladies, and men, who would throw themselves at him given the chance. Granted, they were likely to be put off by the chains. He definitely looked every bit as she had expected Fenn to as a human, if longer haired.

“We should get you some clothes,” she concluded. “I know you usually go all natural, but there is such a thing as too much attention in public… Or at least attention for the wrong reasons.”

“So I have gathered.” He finally looked up at Lily. “Are we done, Imp? The sooner I can return to myself, the better.”

She stopped her circling in front of him, looking up to meet his grumpy gaze. A small part of her was amused by the fact that she did not need to crane her neck as much as she usually did. “You don’t seem to be fond of being smaller.” It wasn’t a question. Perhaps it was just because his expression was easier to read as a human, but he definitely looked more displeased than usual. “Keep the advantages in mind, it is not always a detriment. I keep myself near half my real size because of said advantages.” She shook her head. “Not everything is a measuring contest, old wolf. But you have learned what I wanted you to learn, so I would say we are finished with at least this part of our conversation.”

“You truly think…” The man trailed off, biting down his retort to her teasing. A cloud of smoke materialized and billowed over the man. The next moment, the familiar Hellhound emerged from within. “Aye, let that be the end of that.”