Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Lunoveau Hill

"Not much either, though, is it?" Elliot replied, still not looking back. "Kind of a hollow comfort."

Another sigh. "Whatever. It's not like the reason makes a difference."

Whatever the reason, he couldn't walk home through his own neighbourhood and feel safe. He couldn't go to a festival without being harassed, and getting René punched in the face by a crazy fanatic trying to get him to leave. That was the worst part. That they didn't target him, half the time. They went for the easier target, because they were too afraid of the big bad wolf.

"Should probably get back down, before René wakes the neighbours again yelling up at me."
 
"Mm," Vernon replied - to all of it. His eyes focused again on the werewolf as he reached into his back pocket, pulled out a crumpled card.

He handed it to the boy, the words DET V DUPUIS VIOLENT CRIMES stamped across it, black on eggshell white. A number followed the name.

"In case you need it," he said, somberly, then:

"Need a ride home?"
 
"Nah," Elliot shook his head. "Don't need to give my mom a heart failure by showing up in a cop car. 'sides, what are the chances of being jumped twice in one night?"

He probably didn't want to know the answer to that question, if he was honest. He took the card, though, stuffing it into his own pocket without ceremony. He supposed it was good to know a cop that wasn't the sort that saw fur, shot fur. "Guess you have to deal with him, too," he nodded towards the body. "And I'd rather not wait."

The teen started towards the fire escape, then stopped, turning back briefly. "And uh, thanks."
 
Vernon didn't respond, just stood there watching the night sky. He could see the sirens in the distance, wondered if they were for him.
 
A few moments later, Elliot was dropping back to the ground, wincing slightly at the jolt to his leg. The cut was still sore.

"Hey, is he..?" René started to ask, then saw the look on his face, and his own expression dropped. "Oh..."

"Probably wasn't anything we could've done," Elliot murmured, shrugging, and forcing his face back to stubborn stoicism. "Not quickly enough. It was pretty bad."

René laid a tentative hand on Elliot's arm. "I'm sorry, El. At least... at least we found him. He won't be forgotten up there until god knows when." When Elliot just made a vague affirmative noise, René sighed. "Hey. I'm just glad that you're okay. That we're both okay."

"No thanks to me," Elliot pointed out. "Leading you into a dark alley with a murderer. If your ... friend hadn't been there, you'd ..."

"Shh," René cut him off. "Don't think about it. It didn't happen. You were being brave, and stuff, and I didn't have to follow you. The important part is that we are okay, yeah?"

"I guess." He didn't sound convinced. René sighed again.

"Let's go home, okay? Your mom's probably worried that you're not back yet." René's gran, in the meantime, was likely long since asleep. "You can stop by mine to clean your leg up, so she doesn't freak out, too. Not much to be done about your jeans but... you can probably squeeze into something of mine to avoid having to explain the bloodstains, at least."

Elliot laughed quietly, his scowl breaking into a smile despite himself. "For all that I'm supposed to be the tough one, you look after me way more than I do you, Ren."

"Someone has to, since you apparently have the self-preservation instincts of a lemming." René murmured back, looking down and smiling at his feet. A lemming, or a stupid hero-type. But the latter sounded a little bit too starry-eyed, so he'd stick with lemming.

Elliot gave another snort in response. "Alright. Let's go, then, your lemming requires a nice soft bed, if nothing else."

"Guess being carried again is out of the question?"

"Eat a dick."
 
"So, about your friend..."

René glanced over his shoulder at where Elliot was slouched on his couch, hair still damp from his shower. He frowned, turning back to the mugs of tea he was making before answering. "Yeah..? What about it?"

There was a long silence, as René poured the hot water from the kettle over the teabags and stirred. The teaspoon clinked against the ceramic. "What happened, exactly? My back was turned and..." Elliot trailed off. René could practically feel the guilt, and sighed. He picked up the mugs and made his way over to where his friend was sat, handing him one and sitting down next to him. It was a relief to finally be able to sink into the couch cushions, after having spent the time since they got back finding some new trousers for Elliot to wear and extracting him a towel. The fact that it was almost two in the morning was finally catching up to him. But drowsy as he was, he didn't want to put this conversation off. He took a breath.

"Firstly, don't beat yourself up so much. She was practically invisible. And throwing her voice. And apparently a time mage. I think you can forgive yourself for overlooking her. Secondly... after you went through the portal, she lunged for me. Zexal got in the way, blocked her knife and attacked her." René shot Elliot a sidelong glance, assessing his expression. He was conflicted, that much was easy to tell. Upset that he hadn't been able to protect him, and confused that what was the very picture of a demon was apparently to thank for him being unharmed. It was understandable, and sweet. "I get that it's hard to believe," he went on, when Elliot didn't answer immediately. "I didn't, at first. The first time, I mean. But I really don't think it wants to hurt people. It's almost like a child."

"It took a knife for you," Elliot said, shaking his head. "I guess I have to give it credit for that. Do you even know what it is, though?"

"A voidling, it said. I don't know what that means. I think it can sense people's emotions, though. It kept talking about things like that... that I was warm, and that she was obsessed with 'hurt'. It feels other people's pain, I think. That's why it doesn't like violence."

Elliot chuckled dryly, running a hand through his hair. "This is crazy. A demon watching your back. And which of us is apparently anathema unto god, again?" He sighed, leaning back into the couch. "It has good taste in friends, I guess."

René smiled, looking down at his mug and letting his head loll back on a cushion. "It wants to meet me again, actually. You should come with me." He paused, remembering Zexal's earlier comment, and blinked. "Or, uh... maybe not, on second thought."

"Why's that?" Elliot raised an eyebrow, turning to look at him. René did his best not to blush.

"Ah... it's quite easily intimidated, is all, it might not want there to be more than one person-"

"This thing straight up murdered a vampire, and you're telling me I'm going to intimidate it? I'm offended, Ren. Give me some credit, my smile's not that scary. C'mon, what's the real reason?" The werewolf smirked. "Why're you embarrassed? Secret tentacle fetish?"

"Oh my god, no, El!" René elbowed him, laughing. "Just, uh... it picks up on some kind of ... personal stuff, with its telepathy thing. It could be awkward, maybe."

"Keeping secrets, huh? And here I thought we trusted each other." Elliot shook his head disapprovingly, but his expression turned more serious after a moment. "But, seriously. Is everything okay? It's not like you to hide something."

René turned away to avoid his steadily deepening blush from showing through, although he knew that was only going to make Elliot more worried. Stupid overprotective ass. Stupid gentle, caring, loving and wonderful ass. Looking back, it was hard to pinpoint when exactly he'd fallen in love with his best friend. They'd been neighbours for going on two years, now, but it felt like much longer. When he'd dropped out of school he'd expected to lose friends, and had - he was only in touch with a couple of his old schoolfriends, and only infrequently. But when Elliot and his mother had moved in next door, it had been like a little miracle. They'd met when Elliot had helped him get his grandma up the stairs of the apartment building one day on the way back from the doctors, and had gotten talking about their respectively shitty situations. After that, the werewolf had started coming over just to hang out while he was taking care of his gran. They'd gotten to know each other better than René had known any of his friends before, had been so much more open with their issues by merit of sharing many of them. He hadn't had to pretend that everything was fine, with El. They both knew better.

"Uhm..."

That friendship was exactly why he shouldn't risk saying anything. He didn't know if Elliot felt the same way, or even swung that way at all. He was very protective and caring, sure, but that could easily just be because they were good friends, and protectiveness was a werewolf thing, right?

"Ren. Look at me."

René turned to meet Elliot's blue eyes hesitantly, knowing that his face wasn't doing him any favours in deflecting the interrogation. "El, it's not..."

"Your heart's uh... beating pretty fast." The werewolf said quietly, something in his expression having changed from concern to ... something else, that René didn't entirely recognise. "I ... look, I don't know if I'm getting this right or if I'm going to hate myself in a few seconds, but ... do you..?"

Oh, gods. René screwed his eyes shut, and wanted to find a hole to crawl into and die. Stupid Zexal and its stupid mind-reading, why did it have to-

His thinking was abruptly cut short when he felt warmth pressed to his lips. He opened his eyes. Elliot was kissing him. Elliot was kissing him. He tried to gasp, but ended up just letting out a horrendously embarrassing moan instead. He didn't pull back, and realising this, Elliot began to kiss him harder. More urgently. René flailed out for the coffee table to clumsily put his mug down, then let himself be drawn into it, snaking his arms around the werewolf and clutching at him, pushing back. By the time they came up for air, he was halfway onto Elliot's lap and panting for breath. They were both as red-faced as each other now, and there was a long silence in which René just stared into those blue orbs like the rest of the room didn't exist.

"I..." Elliot started, but René interrupted him by leaning in to take the initiative this time, mashing their lips together clumsily. One hand came up to brush against his face, tracing his slightly angular cheekbones and running over the light fuzz. His heart was beating in leaps and bounds, and they stayed locked together for what felt like an eternity all over again.

They finally separated, and René couldn't help but laugh at the stunned look on Elliot's face. The werewolf blinked down at him, and slowly a smile crept into its place. "I'll take that ... I'll take that as a yes, then," the werewolf murmured breathily, trailing a hand through René's hair. "Wow. We need to get mugged by werewolf hunters more often, if this is what happens after."

René snorted, and punched him in the ribs. "Shut up. Oh my god. I didn't think ..." he trailed off, failing to find words. They could talk later. There was something kind of distracting, keeping his brain from really doing its job. He gave a small, happy sigh and leaned into Elliot, breathing him in and pressing a kiss to his neck. The werewolf shivered under him. "Let's ... not talk. Uhm. Do you want to ... I mean ..."

Elliot's eyes widened. "Your gran..."

"Slept through the smoke alarm last week," René shook his head urgently. "Please. I want this. So much."

The werewolf just nodded dumbly, then leaned in to kiss him again. While their lips were pressed together, René felt Elliot's hands move down to under his legs, and he was lifted from the sofa. He started tugging at their clothes before they even reached his bedroom door.
 
OGUN gave short, suggestive replies as the driver found his way through the city. Despite being given the simple direction of Go To The Phantom Quarter, the driver had made the decision at the start not to fully take OGUN into the quarter, no matter how much money he was given. However, the driver knew of a few neighborhoods one entered prior to arriving at PQ and OGUN was aware of these and more. There were numerous paths one could take to find themselves in PQ and there were fewer paths one could easily take by road. From the start, OGUN required to be taken away from the wealthier districts and to force this, he hadn't given the driver good money. The bills were not crisp nor highly valuable, and with OGUN's secondhand armor and unintelligible demeanor, he didn't connote Aristocrat. Instead, OGUN resembled someone from a lesser quarter, so the animosity he displayed for wealth and safe areas easily guided the driver southwest through town instead of northwest, towards the parts of town that Luna had frequented.

OGUN hadn't ever in his life been to this part of Lutetia City. Between coursework and old business, the lesser buildings and dirty brick structures were completely foreign. And yet, the intensity of his preparation for today made this unfamiliarity magical, as he knew that all of these things would be here. Each building he saw, he could name, and when he didn't recognize something, he immediately found the shop sign or apartment title and committed it to memory. And whenever he saw a person he recognized from the past or found a building that seemed an improvement, he would huff or make some barely audible comment that pressured the driver to take a new turn or speed up. OGUN felt a powerful feeling in his stomach and it didn't make him sick, but nonetheless the emotion was caught and ignored, stuffed beneath his focus on the events at-hand.

Eventually, he recognized they were near Lunoveau Hill, the place he'd been aiming for from the beginning. However, this reminded him that the final phase of his movement, the most critical and important reason for taking this taxi in the first place, was upon him. OGUN reprioritized his need to reach the Phantom Quarter and began actively looking out the window, exuding just enough increase in energy that the driver was now aware of his full presence and no longer as easily suggestible. OGUN sniffed the air and inquired about how much longer until they got there. The driver didn't respond until they were now at the bottom of the hill, still a good distance from the edge of PQ.

"This is how far I take you, kid. We don't get paid enough to be taking people into the damn quarter."
"Well I gave you money."
"Yeah, but still, we don't drive into PQ. I know you Academy kids probably think it's cool to think like adults, but you're still just a kid." OGUN dug his nails into the pleather door grip, but he gripped it as though it were the hand of a friend guiding him.
"Whatever. What do I owe you?"
"30. I'll take off ten since I'm not taking you in."
"Cool." He dug into his pocket, pulled out two tens, and dropped them on the seat, giving him a glare.
"Fucking kid!"
"Huh." Closing the door behind him, OGUN stuck his hands into his pockets and began walking towards the Quarter. It was only once the driver was definitely away that he ducked away from the street and began making his way back to Lunoveau Hill. There was a pit of anxiety in his stomach as he walked; somewhere within a mile perimeter of here, someone had been killed. And Luna.. was responsible. Possibly. Gritting his teeth and bottling his doubts, OGUN marched forward towards the actual residences.
 
Walking up the hill, OGUN reconstructed what he should infer of the scene since he had time to kill.

Luna, at this time another Proselyte, was the murderer in this scenario.
The method of murder was undetermined.
The victim was Dr. Casein, a werewolf, an intellectual.

Closing his eyes, OGUN put these facts together in the method Luna had taught Hugo months ago. A proselyte murdered a werewolf, the crime went unpublicized, and the crime itself wasn't specified by the culprit nor her conspirators. It seemed obvious; xenophobia incarnate rationalized this death and it must have also been the motivation. It explained the secrecy, the lack of punishment, everything except..

Inside, Hugo held his arms around himself. This just wasn't the Luna he knew.. Luna loved everything and thought the underworld folk were cool, pleasant, good people. How could she be someone he wasn't aware of? Had he really been deceived? Why would he have been?

OGUN snorted. Avoiding a weed which had sprouted from the cracked sidewalk, he came upon the Casein Residence. Here, the next clue became clear as day.
Amidst the somewhat nice-looking homes and apartments further up the Hill, this residence was the symbol of tragedy. The place was poorly kept, definitely even before the owner was killed. The buildings material were of an ugly, peasant quality. But this wasn't what tipped him off. There was a second common entrance here.

Aside from the main walkway to the front door of the house, there was signs that another path inside was commonly taken. But, before he looked into it, he checked the front door. For now, his theories would have to be set aside. There was a profile to build and, though he didn't make this aware to himself, an excitement in his own chest developing. Hugo looked away from it as OGUN examined the door handle and the various locks attached to it, but here was his chance to prove himself, to be the intellectual Cleric that the world seemed reproachful of. He closed the door behind him as he explored the house, almost in response to the careful eyes watching his movement from afar.
 
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