Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Saint Lemeux

As written by CaerJester, Knosis, and Krysis

If his eyes had already been wide, they now stretched the limit of what they could, for lack of a better word, stretch. So simple a thing as waving his hand, and his blood settled, and It went back to sleep. His teeth practically began to grind painfully against one another, his true fangs sometimes snapping and breaking against each other.

"I apologize for your fair skin, dear Zanzibar." He'd attempted to pull his hand away then, if the shedevil did not return the gentle, apologetic squeeze he'd given her fingers. "I fear I am well outclassed here...and this is not a feeling I like."

The little spell had no effect on the demon, although she had felt what he had done and knew he had been given some hint of her status. Still, her eyes narrowed on the devil at hand, clearly displeased. "I do not need permission from you, Fannar." She stressed. "Should I give him an offer, there is no way you could stop me should we come to an agreement."

She was able to pull her heated gaze away from the devil to turn her attention to Nox. "No apology needed, m'dear. Was not but a scratch, either way." She smiled sweetly, the wounds already sealing as if nothing had happened. "Perhaps it would be more comfortable for you to know that.. I am on your side?" She smirked slightly. "I couldn't let him harm such an adorable little catch like you.."

Fannar laughed at her saying that she was on the Caeruleum's side, leaning forward as he hastily put his cup on the saucer. "Oh, my! I'm so glad demons can lie, or I'd marvel at such a whopper." His pale eyes sparkled merrily as he shook his head at Zanzibar, "You do need permission, or it would be an act of war. As the representative of the Eth`Calis on this plane, I am to give or deny this permission."

Then he turned his attention to Nox again, "Do you understand, Caer lord? You can deal with this demon if it is of profit to you, but you can't sell your soul twice." He lifted his hand to ask for a moment's forbearance, "I do not seek to exert my will on you. This is only to make sure you are aware of the rules, and what is waiting if you should break them."

"I completely understand. My father was not a fool, raising me. He warned me of the dangers and the like. Any deal I make with fair Zanzibar will be strictly carnal and joyous in nature, I assure you." To his best credit, Nox spoke very fairly, without a trace a fear, despite the bubbling thoughts pulling at his mind. Flight or fight, kill or be killed. It was a hard feeling to keep under wraps.

"Still, how is it that two demons find themselves in my city? My father told me how hard it was for him to get a foot inside these boundaries, in a spiritual sense, and that I'd probably never meet one of my 'relatives' in my eternal life."

The woman's jaw clenched. As much as she wanted to test this devil's limit, she was on a time limit. So she remained quiet on the subject of permissions.

"I do not know about your.. relative.." She used the term Nox had used last. "But the barrier is weakening." She said quietly. "I'd imagine with all the chaos this city is in, the church has been neglecting some of their normal duties." She leaned back against the couch, folding her arms across her chest. "I was sent ahead. To my surprise, I wasn't the only one, and I doubt that he came through the same crack that I did." She glared accusingly.

"It is more than that, and less. To wit, the 'church' here is corrupt at the core. A wooden gate covered in filth will rot. An iron gate will rust. A human gate will sin, age, and die. The one that is meant to be the gate sees it now as an empty honor and habors depravity in his heart. The gates elsewhere on this planet stand wide, and traveling to this place was no difficulty when one used physical means instead of the more direct methods." Fannar didn't seem to mind telling what he knew, smiling in a superior way without intending to.

"I was also asked to look at the situation, and make a claim on the whole city if possible, to avoid it becoming an invitation instead of just a gap. Having hundreds of demons rampaging on this world would be-- bad for business." He lifted his tea cup at that point, though he would grimace at it having gone tepid.

"Seems that I alone can't lay a claim to this city anymore. My father made it clear it was more the haggling with fel powers than the curse itself that made us the top of the food chain in this city, and that more than a fair share of our...your kind, the True Born,...would fair outrank our meger by comparisson power."

Nox would stare into the stale tea, hands steepled across to catch his chin, elbows resting on his legs. "Its a very hard pill to swallow, in truth. Imagine being the top predator in your territory, only to one day discover not one, but two seemingly insurmountable foes..."

"Depends on whom you ask." The woman said, raising a brow. She slowly shifted and lifted Nox's tea from his knee and placed it down on the low table before gently encouraging the Caer lord to shift so that she could slip onto his lap. "Some would say that you attempting to hinder the entrance of the lords into this realm would be blasphemous. And yes, there are other places where the gates have opened but this area has remained closed for way too long." She smiled at the devil.

"Some are here for the souls to collect. Some to make deals. Others.. For the chaos and hatred that they can inspire. I at least know which one you're from now."

"But I'm not seeking claim over the territory for myself." She said, looking back towards Nox. "I've specific reasons I sought out you, m'dear."

Fannar rolled his eyes at Zanzibar before pointing out patiently, "Too much chaos and the cattle remember their righteousness. They would close the gates in a hurry then, no matter how much blood and bone they'd have to use to stem that tide. No, there is more profit if sin is rampant and those collecting are behind the scenes."

Then he turned towards Nox again, which was a matter of angling his gaze only a few inches differently. "Your contract can be revisited, if you need more power." Fannar offered with a sly smirk, pretty sure that the vampire would refuse.

Fannar wasn't far off the mark either. Nox would turn his nose up at the offer, distracted away from the puzzling statement the shedevil had made. "I am not the legal contractor. That was Father's mess and burden. My education never covered with haggling fel pacts with devils." Still, it was a good idea to put a pin in for later. A potential ally of this caliber far outstripped those he'd turned to so far, as far as he could tell with merely a surface judgement.

Now his attention couldn't help but be drawn to Zanzibar, his eyes narrowed. "And what do you mean...you sought me out? You were looking for me...?" A hard edge crept onto those blue orbs, lined with paranoid anger. "Why?"

"Yes, but like the forbidden box that was opened. Once opened, it is very difficult to put all the spilt items back into the box. However, if the church realizes a devil is behind the chaos, you're doing it wrong, Dear Fannar." She rolled her eyes in return to the Devil. "Besides, you benefit for the occasional hell breaking loose yourself."

The woman matched Nox's coldness with warmth and pleasantries. "Yes, I sought you specifically." She admitted again. "I wish to further your cause. Your goal. So I am here to offer my services to you." She said, her words like silk. "Details of this discussion, should you like to know further, will wait until we can speak more.. Privately.."

"Your father and mine." Fannar murmured, "Yet, you have the contract and I have the pen, so now we are the main parties of the deal. For the moment, at least." The checkered devil gave a slow smile at the thought that crossed his devious mind.

"Lord Caer, I would urge you to demand answers from her while you still have a true ally at hand. After all, we helped your father and the debt he owed is now on your shoulders. I actually need you alive to fufill it, while she might wish to spite us and prevent us from collecting." He sat back then, folding his hands on his stomach as he considered the tree of cakes and pondered if he wanted a sweet morsel or was content to wait.

"It...is true I owe a certain debt to your Father. I accept that responsibility, and yet, I do find myself drawn to the idea of having the two of you...seemingly...fighting over me, especially considering my soul is already bought. Lord Nito taught me your kind were haughty and greedy, selfish, but I did not expect the in-fighting and politics to be this cut throat. Its almost to the level of our nosferatu courts and families here."

It was a mouthful, but Nox liked to hear himself talk, especially if he had something scathing to say. Finally, he was beginning to get his own foot into the door around these two, and with that realization, his confidence was beginning to flood back into the undead noble.
 
As written by CaerJester, Knosis, and Krysis

"True ally?" The woman chuckled darkly, her violet eyes blazing at the humor in that. "You weren't even aware of his existance until he walked into your shop a short while ago. About as true an ally as I am an angel." She snorted. "But if you truly don't believe I do not wish to start a war with you or prevent your collection of what is.. 'rightfully' yours.. There are certain measures I can take to ensure your trust."

The shedevil grinned at Nox. "Not everything needs a price tag, m'dear."

"If we were fighting, the building wouldn't still be standing." Fannar grinned at Nox, then gave a speculative look at Zanzi, "The question would be about whether the city would still be standing, should she and I come to blows."

His eyes sparkled with mirth as he gave an elegant gesture of his long fingered hands, brushing aside the accusation of unawareness, "Come now, my dear. Just tell us what it is you want, and even if the Caer patriarch here can not provide, perhaps I can help you out instead. I've started buying up all sorts of things, to insure my foothold here is a good one, and I can always use an enforcer to keep the pawns in line."

"I too am very curious as to why its me you want. I understand my connection with your kind...the True Born...but my family has only ever had ties with one clan of devils." A nod towards Fannar, now that his suspicions had long since been proven true. "Who sent you to find me? If no one did, why seek me out on your own. And who...who managed to pull you through the gap...I was not aware of any particularly powerful conjurers in this city. If I had such knowledge, I would've sought them out ages ago."

It was troubling news. So many players in this city that Nox knew so little of. His fifty years of isolation had not frozen the city as it had him. It had kept moving, and more and more interesting pieces were joining the board every day.

The woman's smile fell slightly and she let a sigh escape her lips. "I sought you out on my own accord." She informed. "There is a few warlocks within the city, none of them strong enough to pull much more than minor demons from the void..." She smirked. "Unless, a stronger demon comes through the gap, riding on that minor demon's summon." She shrugged slightly.

Her glowing gaze was cold as she shifted to those damned blue eyes of the devil's. It was a slight what he had suggested. To become his underling. A footman, at best. The shedevil's smile returned and the coldness left her eyes, but the edge was still there. "I've already stated, that I merely wish to offer my services to the young Caer Lord. A little birdy mentioned his name, and as my nature.. I was curious. But seeing out utterly adorable he is, and how troubled he was before entering this store.. I felt a tug on my conciousness. Call it motherly instincts, or something. I wish to make it better for him."

"And as I said. Not everything comes with a price tag."

Fannar couldn't help a scrap of laughter, hidden behind his hand as he smiled at Zanzi and Nox. Then he toyed with his cane as he considered the problem from his point of view. "You wish to serve my servant, but not me. How curious. Well, I do have a policy of non-interference with my associates. I will not force my will on you, either of you."

Then he pointed the foot of the cane at them each in turn, "Best to settle the details soon, to avoid misunderstandings. Feel free to call on me for anything at all. I do not charge for my time." But then he whispered, like cold lips on Nox's ear, straight into his mind, a final warning before he'd start to make preparations to leave them to their dealing.

Nox slowly blinked both his eyes at Fannar, understanding the gesture and the meaning behind it. In truth, the Caer was growing less worried by the second. The lessons from his lord father had taught him that these were creatures that would take long before making negotiable deals. These two however seemed far more...bureaucratic? Perhaps they were not as powerful as he'd thought. Perhaps they were on more equal footing that he would've ever guessed. Nox would not foolish enough to voice these doubts outloud, but still, just thinking them eased even more of the tension and worry from the nosferatu.

"So you keep saying, Zanzibar. But I'm curious what you actually had in mind." A nod to their host. "Should we leave the store, or are you fine with us having a little chat in this impromptu parlor?"

The woman's gaze followed Fannar and remained silent for the time being.

Fannar shrugged and headed out, waving one hand as the other was occupied with the jaunty way he handled his cane. As he walked, the white 'velvet' drapes seemed to melt like a snowbank, revealing the far more prosaic walls and shelves they had covered. The carpet also melted away to the dirty linoleum underneath. The couches and table were the last to change back to their original state, back to plastic chairs around a shabby metal table, and the cake tree back to the condiment caddy that was actually adorning the table. Nothing replaced the read cups and pot though, so one might assume they were far more real than anything else that the devil had shown them. Or less real, depending on one's point of view.

The door would lock after he let it close, providing them with whatever privacy they might desire as it merely kept anyone from walking in on the pair that remained, and provided no barrier to leaving.

Zanzi frowned as the room returned to the original state of being and slowly stood from the Caer Lord's lap. "I knew the bastard would do something like this. That irksome devil..." She muttered under her breath. "Very well then..." She turned around to gaze over the current state of the room with a judging eye. She nodded once, and she unveiled some of her powers as she lifted her hand to snap her fingers together. The shadows began to move funnily through the room, expanding to cover the entire room including the metal chair Nox had settled on.

When she snapped her fingers again, the shadows retracted, leaving a much cozier room than what Fannar had left them. Two of the chairs were gone, but now Nox sat upon a rather large and rather fluffy couch. The linoleum had been covered at least, with a rather elegant rug. The metal table was replaced with an antique looking wooden table, its short legs elegantly carved into lion claws towards the bottom. The walls were recolored to match a color of the rug, and bookshelves now lined the walls. Even the cups and pot had been replaced to suit the shedevil's taste and the pot had been refreshed with her own blend of tea.

But more importantly was the barrier that very easily allowed beings to leave the room, but not enter it that easily. The other part was the barrier kept from prying eyes or ears from eavesdropping on either side unless the barrier was broken.

"Ah. That will do it I suppose." She pursed her lips still not happy with the state of things, but returned to sit beside the Caer Lord this time. "I've a feeling that you and I will be well made for each other, My young lord. Now that we've gotten.. More privacy, ask away at what ever you feel like asking."

The Caer merely watched in awe once more. These were parlor tricks, no pun intended, but the magic behind them was real alright. Real and powerful, to do such changes so casually. A part of him began to wonder if his father truly had been human at one point in his life. Until this day, Nito Caer had been the only one Nox had ever met who could channel the fel arcanas so effortlessly.

Still, it was a shame to be without a lap buddy.

"I certainly hope you're right, Zanzibar. May I call you Zanzi? In either case, what makes you think so? Part of me disagrees. My family and our blood will forever be tied to that...man...Fannar. Theres no getting around that. But still, you could be on to something. Right now...after certain events...more allies could help." The nosferatu then would extend a clawed hand to his compatriot, as if asking her to take it, to rejoin him back on the new, much roomier couch.

"Tell me. Did you have some ideas in mind? On my own end, I need those gifted in magic now more than ever. I assumed my largest opponent would be the Church, but I was wrong. Already the other vampire houses have moved on me, scared like rats at the prospect of my family's return. And while useful...very few of my allies are what I would call...powerful."
 
As written by CaerJester and Knosis


The woman smiled and tenderly took his hand, scooting closer to the Caer to where there was very little personal space left. She leaned in to where where her lips nearly touched his cheek and his ear. "Well.. Since you asked nicely, you may. You see.. Just because of your ties with Fannar bind you to him and his.. Doesn't mean you have to have only one tie." She nuzzled his cheek softly. "As long as my motives don't cross his or his families, you're more than welcome to have as many ties that are willing to tie to you."

"I can help you with your foes.. I can lend you my own strength, my minions, my protection. I can be your eyes, your ears when you need to focus on other things. To make your enemies fear you again, your family again and find the respect that you deserve."

"Of course, our common enemy is the Church but.. Your enemies will be mine."

Multiple ties were nothing new to the nosferatu, and he'd raise a hand to gently cup Zanzi's cheek, putting a momentary halt to her affections. While much appreciated, the vampire couldn't help but feel they were meant to distract him. "If you bring others to my cause...these minions you speak of...That would be glorious. A spy network and foot soldiers. You're making it very hard for me to turn this offer down."

Then, a pause, not being able to feel the incredibly temperature contrast between the shedevil and himself. "I know you said no price tags but I can't help but feel like I won't be getting off completely free here. Am I wrong?"

The woman's grin widened slightly. "Mmm.." She leaned her cheek against his hand. "Well.. You see, I could ask a favor in return. Should you care to hear a woman's problems.."

She pouted slightly. "You see.. I'm only here because of a contract that I forced upon the summoner.." She murmured. "And my time here is limited, so once he decides my contract is up, I'll be forced to return back home, and quite honestly.. I don't feel like going back for a while yet." She sighed softly.

"So.. I am looking for a backup contract holder. Someone who can.. Hold my leash, so to speak. Make me bark, occasionally cause mayhem.. You know, that sort of thing. So when my contract is up through the summoner, I will remain here still. Does that sound so bad..?"

Nox raised a brow, unsure if the assumption forming in his mind was correct or not. "You're saying...you want to bind yourself to me. Assumingly free of charge, if what my gut is telling me is right. If I'm wrong, so be it, but more than anything, you just want to be out of the cage." Somewhere deep down, he could identify, sympathize, even empathize with the demoness's problem. The undead noble had spent fifty years living off of vagrants and rats, hiding in the most desolate part of this hellbound city.

"Despite whatever twists and betrayals and fine print I'm sure will be in the future...I see no reason to deny you such a simple requests. If all I have to do is sign my name to get such a gorgeously dangerous ally in my lap, consider the deal done...for now."

"Well.. It can't be completely for nothing, I'm afraid. There is the little bit of signing the pact. You see,.. The one I make the deal with has to provide a catalyst so to speak. But in this case, anything that I agree to is fine."

She took the vampire's cold hand from her cheek into her own hands. "But it also must be potent enough to keep the bond. The simplest offer, the easiest offer I can give is that I can contract myself to you for two drops of your blood."

She smiled sweetly, pulling away to look Nox in the eyes, her violet hues swirling with light. "Do we have a bargain, my lord?"

"I am curious as to what you mean, demon. What do you mean by a catalyst? And my blood? Mortals I could understand such a practice for but...my blood spoken for. Claimed. What could you accomplish with it?" The growl that accompanied those words was an equal mix playful and threatening. Which spoke volumes about his current mood.

His own eyes were ablaze with cold, cyan fire, returning the almost arcane feeling those purple eyes gave off. Nox would not be taken for a fool. Not this day. Not ever again.

"Your soul is claimed, my dear. Your blood is perfectly in your right to give and take as you please. As you have probably done so to your counterparts. And its not like I'm asking for ALL of your blood. Just two drops as a token of our agreement." She grinned softly. "The catalyst.. Is more to make sure I keep my end of the deal. Should I not hold up my end of the bargain, or enforce me to keep my end of the deal." She explained, although leaving out a good part of the explanation out.

"My need to be free from my cage is greater than my need for anything else, my dear Caer lord. And I need a more earthly anchor for that to happen. I am offering all my power to you, my complete and utter cooperation to do whatever you wish for my freedom. The only thing that needs, is to put the leash on me through your blood."

"If that is all true...Of course I accept. It would be foolish of me not to at this point in the game. However, I want to make one thing perfectly clear, right now, before I sign anything, or you take the blood. My children, those from my loins, are completely off limits. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

That fire turned from a blaze into an inferno behind those words, Nox's bluer-than-blue eyes fixing onto her face, moreso her neck, hand gripping Zanzi's knee tightly. This was a fierce determination from a hellsworn, an issue it was obvious he wouldn't budge on.

The woman's face softened slightly, and her smile grew genuine. She looked at him with a mild respect, a minor awe. Her own violet responded in kind, soft flicker of light dancing in her eyes.

"Your children are completely off limits for me. I will not harm them, nor will I try to bargain with them unless with explicit instruction that will come from you and only you, m'lord. I give my word." She held out her hand to the man cooly. "Do I have yours?"

His massive powerful claws would leave her fair skin to give the offered hand a firm shake. "I am glad that we've met then, Zanzibar. I know names mean quite a bit to you and your kin, but I'd prefer it if truly knew what to call you." He'd lick his lips then, tongue dancing across his shark like teeth.

"As I said though. It is acceptable if you decide to keep your tongue still. For now."

She shook his hand once before turning it over. He would feel the slightest stings as her nail poked down on his index finger, producing the two drops of black blood. The two droplets floated from his finger to the air, forming and shaping slightly. As the two drops formed, Nox would feel as though he had something tug on his hand in her direction.

She slowly lifted her eyes to her new master, a nonchalant look upon her face. "Should you truly wish to know my name, then you merely have to demand it. But, I will warn you.. We may not be the only ears listening in, and I'm not sure you would want everyone knowing my true name, m'lord." She said. The two drops of blood had formed to look like gemstones, which she took and placed in her ears above the red ones she wore.

The hand his new partner had no hold over would reach up and caress the demon's cheek. Yes. This would do very nicely. "I believe you may be right. I am terribly possessive at times, and I'd hate it if some one tried to steal my beautiful new pet." To his credit, the very minor pain didn't even draw a wince or cause his skin to jump. In fact, Nox seemed to very much welcome the uncomfortability, thrive on it. Even purr. A massive, undead, demonbound nosferatu, purring at being cut and bled, even so minorly.

The devil nuzzled into his hand gently. "It would make things.. Awkward, certainly." She said, a soft grin spreading across her lips as he began to purr. "When was the last time you've not had to hold back your full desires, m'lord?" She asked quietly, her words carrying more meaning than she let on. "What is it you wish for me to do for you?"

"Oh? Well we already have a pretty good start. And plenty of time to make real plans. For now...And perhaps not here...But I'd like to get to know you. Like a lord should know his servant." It was beyond obvious as to what Nox truly meant. Considering Zanzibar was cradled into his lap, it only became more obvious. "However, if you're that curious about my plans...well...you mentioned minions?"

She chuckled softly and leaned close to his ear. "Discussions of my minions can wait, m'lord.. You have a more urgent need, I think. And it what kind of servant would I be if I kept my lord waiting?" She asked before nuzzling his neck softly.

"Where is it you wish to go, m'lord, to allow you to get better acquainted with your new pet? Just say the word, and we'll be off."

For a moment, Nox lost track of where he was, and what manner of creature he was dealing with. Even compared to mortals, her touch set him on fire, the sheer warmth of her almost painful. And Nox genuinely invited the pain in. The purr would turn into a growl as the Caer pulled the demon into a more compromising position on his lap.

"My safehouse. Incredibly well hidden, but I'm sure you can find it." Nox breathed out, his words coming in sharp hisses as he barely held onto the will to contain himself. Besides, the anti-divination spells his Father had placed on the underground bunker were more to keep the old Hunters and the Church from finding them, not so much creatures of Zanzibar's...caliber.

She allowed her new master to maneuver her around, even welcomed it. Her eyes teased him as she leaned in again, nipping softly at his flesh. "As.." She nipped again lightly. "..you command.." She murmured in his ear. The pair of them was surrounded by shadows as she ported them away.

As the two disappeared, the room began to reform its former shape, her decorations and furniture disappearing with the demoness herself. All except, of course, her own teapot and cups to replace Fannar's.
 
Vernon felt eyes on the back of his neck wherever he went, now - a journal full of frantically scrawled notes saw to that - but he wasn't feeling too nervous, or afraid. It was hard to fear when the puzzle thrummed at the base of his skull, reverberating around his brain like a laser beam in a hall of mirrors. It was hard to eat, to sleep, knowing that one of your own could be wrapped up in a nightmare - a case so thick with bad premonitions, ugly insinuations, foreshadowing of something dark to come.

Vernon tapped his ring finger against the callouses of his thumb - second knuckle, third knuckle, twice on pad, repeat - as he walked, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Beneath the black shirt was a medallion he hadn't bothered to pull out for a long time - a medallion ripe with memory, with purpose. He'd put down the circle in his own apartment, carefully chanted the incantation, marked the circle as a waypoint. The simplest task in the world took him nearly six hours and almost all of the magical ability he posessed, but he'd done it.

His little escape route.

Jogging across a busy road, he came to a stop near a brick apartment building, checking the faded brass numbers with the ones he'd written down in his journal. The clouds, heavy with the promise of rain, began to deliver with light drizzles, matting his dirty-blonde hair to his skull, wetting the pencil marks, smudging the ink. He stepped into the lobby, flipped the journal around to reveal the badge he clutched in the same hand to the elderly security guard, nodded his way into the building.

He always took the stairs - elevators were too unpredictable - and had to jiggle the door to the stairwell three times to ensure it didn't stick. Paused, jiggled it thrice again.

No sticking, Vernon. It's fine, it'll open - you're not trapped. Move along.

...Jiggled it another three times, nodded deeply to himself, thought of the little orange bottle of pills in the passenger seat of his car. Made him less aware, and now there were things out there that made that unacceptable. He'd need all the help he could get.

He took the stairs two at a time, all the while tapping at his thumb - second knuckle, third knuckle, twice on pad, repeat - with his brow furrowed. Every eighth stair, he'd pause and listen. Every landing he'd check the door handles to see if they'd stick. All the while, second knuckle, third knuckle, twice on pad.

Repeat.

When Vernon made it to Officer Moreau's door, he paused to listen, brow furrowing. It hadn't been sold yet, as it was part of an ongoing investigation, but the landlord was making unhappy noises about the status of it. Vernon had the key, could walk right in.

He tested the space in front of the door with his boot, lightly pressing to see if the floorboards creaked. When they didn't, he reached into his bag, pulled out some powdered glass, and sprinkled it on the ground.

It made a satisfying crunch as he stepped into the apartment, re-pocketed his journal, his badge. Jiggled the doorknob as he closed it behind him.

Once inside, he began his work.
 
With a name like 'Noctis', it wasn't surprising that the bar-come-nightclub that took prime position on the edge of Saint Lemeux was a step up from the hazy, sweaty atmosphere common to entertainment venues in the less reputable parts of the city. Here was where many of high society's young and adventurous came to get drunk, do drugs (the expensive kind), and abandon etiquette in the bump and grind of bodies on the dance floor. The pretence of superiority could be felt in everything from the decor, to the light effects, to the music choices - Noctis's patrons liked to think that their debauchery was a step above that of the unwashed masses, and so it was all the more important that the club gave at least the impression of class, whilst still providing an escape from the starchy norms of their home lives. The furnishings were as designer as the drugs being smuggled through the doors and the suits that the bouncers wore whilst their palms were greased to look the other way.

All in all, it was Arien's kind of place. Whilst his regular haunts in Vargeras and Merveilleux held their own unpretentious, sordid charm, since arriving in the city he'd been developing a newfound taste for luxury. It was an inevitable side effect of having firmly integrated himself into the lives of some of the city's richest youths, a lover to many and friend to a few. You could only sip twenty-dollar cocktails for so long before you started to miss them when they weren't on the menu.

It was certainly a step up from Gambit's Bar, if nothing else.

The only way his newfound lifestyle could have been improved, in his view, would have been to surgically remove the barest hint of Nox from it. That murderous rabid dog was going to bring nothing but trouble for him, and the sooner someone put him down, the sooner Arien would be able to enjoy a night out without having to worry whether a looming figure dressed all in white was going to ruin his evening, or break his favourite toys.

Still, such worries were only minor distractions. Most nights, he had plenty of far more pleasant distractions to keep his mind off of them.

Tonight, those distractions were named Théo and Evelyn. The first, a fair-haired young man whose father was a high court judge, and the second a red-headed beauty and professional catwalk model. Propped up against the bar, he was half-listening to Eve on one side, talking about her next show, whilst on the other Théo was idly playing with his auburn hair. They were on a break from the dance floor, each with a fresh drink in hand and slightly flushed from their earlier exertions. Whilst he listened, he was deliberating on which - if either - of them he would let take him home tonight. If he pushed it, he could probably have both... But there was also an intriguing brunette girl at a table across the room that he'd been making irregular, prolonged eye contact with since they got back to the bar... and there was always the ever-appealing option of going back to the twins' home instead.

These were the kind of struggles and deliberations that he wanted to be dealing with. Not would-be wars, rampaging monsters and danger of death.

Just sex, alcohol and freedom.
 
Rain​

On the Friday of the Aurellae's first week.

The pattering of raindrops against the window, interposed with the gentle rattle of the old glass panes in their latticed frame, struck a tranquil rhythm unique to the little window seat in Aunt Florianne’s attic room. It had always been Inarin’s favourite place to read, and rainy days his favourite time. The soothing percussion had a way of carrying his troubles away with the trickles of water running down the glass, and helping his mind focus on his reading.

It wasn’t working, today.

His book lay ignored in his lap as he watched the rain roll by, brow resting on the cool glass. It was still soothing, but it would take more than a single tranquil moment to push his troubles away. In the excitement of the festival, and the exertion of his training, he could distract himself. But in moments alone, the loss came creeping back in. A quiet presence, seldom pushing him to tears, but aching all the same.

It was his mother’s birthday.

Birthdays were one of the few days when their family reliably came together, whether for a few hours for a meal, or for a weekend. Today, they would have gone to the festival together. Mother had always enjoyed the Aurellae. Not the crowds, or the carnival games, or the music (they were all far too crude), but the church gatherings, and the tournaments. The latter all the more so since Aurelion took up competing in many of them.

The gatherings had been subdued this year. Mrs. Clarelle, the woman who regularly organised them had been killed earlier in the week, in the attack on St. Claron’s. There had been a lot of empty chairs after that.

He couldn’t help but wonder what his parents would have made of his taking part in the tournaments, now. Would they have been proud? He wasn’t as good as Aurelion. He wasn’t going to win. But would they have been proud that he was trying? He was trying to be the man they wanted him to be. Like Aurelion. Like a paladin.

After the festival, they probably would have eaten out. His parents were fond of a particular restaurant in Saint Lemeux. A traditional Lutetian venue (of course), Le Grand Sauveterre had hosted their fine dining exploits for years. He wondered if the owner remembered that they should have been there today, or if they would just be another cancelled reservation.

Footsteps coming up the creaky staircase drew him out of his reverie, but he didn’t move. They were heavier than Aunt Florianne’s. Aurelion.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

He watched his brother’s reflection in the window as he made his way across the room, pulling one of the chairs from the clutter over to beside the window seat and sitting down.

“Today’s been rough, huh?” Aurelion didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t speaking. He tilted his head in something approximating a nod, instead. “Yeah. It wasn’t until Master Rosseaux told me this morning that I’d booked today off that I realised. Full armour and everything. I stood there like an idiot for the longest time…”

He trailed off, running a hand through his hair and sighing. “I’ve been so busy lately with the expanded patrols and the investigations… The days just slipped away from me.”

Another nod. It was all he could think to give, really. What was there to say?

“You know, we still have the reservation at Le Grand. We could go, if you wanted…”

Inarin almost smiled. “I … don’t think so, Leon,” he finally pushed himself to speak, lifting his head from the glass. “I don’t think I’m up to it.”

Leon smiled sadly, nodding. “I thought you might not be. Don’t worry about it. Not sure I am either, if I’m honest.”

There was a lengthy silence, but it didn’t feel like an awkward one. It was a silence of mutual appreciation that there wasn’t anything to say. The rain continued to splash against the window, and the wind to rattle its frame. Eventually, Leon broke the quiet.

“Everything’s ready for next Wednesday. The … the priest wanted me to ask you if you wanted to speak, at all. I said you probably wouldn’t, but I feel like I should ask anyway.”

The funeral. Inarin bit his lip. Just the thought of it made him feel queasy. Something about the funeral would make it all too final, all too real. Spending however many hours surrounded by family friends he barely recognised, let alone knew the names of, drowning in condolences and well-wishes. “No. I … I might … write something, though. Would you mind..?”

“Of course not!” Leon shook his head, smiling. “If you want me to, I’ll read anything you want. Or the priest can, or Aunt Florianne.”

Inarin nodded, returning the smile weakly. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’ll write, but… I feel like I should.”

“Only do it if you want, In. Nobody’s going to think any less of you if you don’t.”

He nodded again. Was that true? Would nobody think it inappropriate that he had nothing to say? He doubted it. But he did have things to say. It would just take … time to figure out what they were. He could make that time, though. It felt important. “I do,” he said softly.

Leon smiled. “Alright, then.”

After a moment, he rose, sitting himself on the window-seat in front of Inarin and looking out at the rain. “You know, mother always hated rain.”

“Yeah…” Inarin managed a small laugh. “She said it was dreary. But I think it’s nice, when you’re inside. It makes you feel even more cosy where you are.”

“Tea always tastes better when it’s raining, too,” Leon noted idly. “And hot chocolate.”

Inarin nodded. His eyes drifted down from watching Leon, to his lap. After a moment, he shoved the book aside and pushed off of the window, shuffling over to where Leon was sitting and leaning on him. “Remember when we were little, and Argus broke his leg? I thought father was going to shoot him, like he did one of the horses.”

Leon found a smile, looking down at him. “You ran up to the library and hid in the window there, behind the curtains. Mother was going crazy looking for you. I think she thought you’d run off into the fields. Like a little wildman.” He laughed, shaking his head at the memory.

“Yeah,” Inarin snickered. “But you can’t blame me for her being upset. You just came straight up to find me, without telling her.”

“I figured you’d prefer it if I didn’t.”

He nodded. “You just sat there and told me you’d make father shoot you before he shot Argus. And I kept crying on you until father came home, and Christine found us, and obviously father didn’t even want to shoot him anyway.” He laughed again, shaking his head. “It was so stupid.”

“I do recall thinking that it was kind of stupid at the time, but you were beyond convincing…” Leon grinned, ruffling his hair. “Argus was a good dog. I still can’t believe he lived till twenty. Border collies normally only live till sixteen at most.”

“It was ‘cause I spoiled him, obviously. All those extra dog treats made him strong.” Inarin giggled.

“Yeah, right. Made him disobedient, more like. Why bother doing what he was told when he knew he could just go snuggle you for a treat? And I was the one who had to train him out of it. Little bastard, you were.”

Inarin sighed, smiling happily. It was good to think back on those days. Even if it was a little painful, now. Knowing that their home was gone, and their parents…

No. They were still happy memories. The rain still beat on the window, as they lapsed into another, more comfortable silence. And Inarin let his mind wander.

And this time, the gentle pattering was finally able to carry him away.
 
I'd hate to see it all go.

Aurelie had worn the same coat she had on Genarium, when she had spoken to the priest. Just thinking about it gave her pangs of regret, ones she thought died a century previous. Memories flooded her mind with every building she saw, old or new, a reminder of why she refused to come here whenever possible. Reminded her too much of what could have been. She could have lived and died as nobility, likely died before or during the skirmishes. Instead, she was forced to watch those she knew fade away, never to speak with them again as they grew old, forgot about her, and eventually died.

Instead, she was here, with a suitcase of explosives in her cold, dead hands.

"It's honestly sick," Lacroix scowled at the ground, then her expression softened as she looked up to Harik, "to make me come here like this."
 
"Our glorious Father certainly does have a twisted sense of humor, on that we can both agree." Harik replied, his own face far from pleased. The night seemed to more or less wrap around his visage, as if the shadows wanted to keep him all for themselves. "I don't see why uncle wants such a gorgeous place reduced to rubble. Seems a waste, but questioning him isn't something I'd advise. But I'm sure you already knew that."

The Caldonian native would crouch down, hands a subtle blur as one of those were plucked from the briefcase, planted underneath a sewer drain on the edge of the sidewalk.

The two moved through alleys and across rooftops as they works, only stepping onto the street proper when it called for it. Most of their parcels, in this district at least, would be placed in gutters, on the underside of overhangs, or, like the most recent, just below the walk paths. "Trust me, fair lady, this doesn't sit incredibly well with me either, though Nox keeps promising that will pass. Unlike you however...I don't have much of a choice. I can't disobey him. Winter won't allow it."

Another explosive placed, in the rain catch of a rather fanciful boutique. A popular one, if memory served Harik correct. At least a dozen would die as a result of this one...All for the sake of his Blood's revenge...
 
Even if Aurelie could not prevent their destruction, she brought a pen and paper with her, and took countless pictures with her cellphone of everywhere they tread, and recorded what they were, and any relevant memories Lacroix might have had of them. If it were all to be destroyed, some semblance of Lutetia's beauty needed to be remembered, even if simply the notes and photographs of its new Queen. "Unlike me? What do you mean?" She looked towards him again. Was he seriously suggesting what she thought he was, or was this feeble 'plotting' of hers simply driving her mad?
 
Harik turned to look at the soon to be First Wife, biting down on his tongue. He'd said too much, but all the while, she was dumb to not realize. She was the only one of them who could openly defy Nox and get away with it. His uncle would be furious, yes, but even if he wanted to, theres no way their god would allow the Patriarch to harm the mother of its child. She alone was truly safe from any sort of wrath or punishment their mutual lord would turn about her, no matter how much he might rage or threaten.

The pyromancer, instead of replying, took a look inside the brief case. A little less than two-thirds remained. Perhaps one more, here in this district, before they moved on to the others. "...You choose where the last one goes before we head over to Lumenia Square..."
 
Their quiet conversation would be interrupted, then, by the sound of raucous laughter. A pair of figures stumbled into view at the end of the alleyway where the two were walking, obviously drunk by their unsteady footsteps. One of the two youths would likely be somewhat familiar to Harik: it was Will, the young man who had helped show him around the city on his first day after arriving (and had shown him a few more things besides). The other was a pink-haired girl of similar age, and was doubling over with laughter at something that Will had just said.

With one hand over his mouth suppressing his own snickering, Will turned to lean against the wall, only to lay eyes on the unusual pair down the alleyway. He squinted for a moment against the dark, and then his face brightened in recognition. "Haaariik!" he called with a delighted grin, waving enthusiastically. "Hooooly shit, it's been like, weeks. Where did you disappear to? Oh my god, Viv, this is the Caldonian guy I was telling you about."

The pink haired girl, Viv, straightened and peered down the alleyway at Harik skeptically. "Reeally? Reallllly?" she narrowed her eyes at Harik, then looked back at Will. Then looked back at Harik, then back at Will. "I thought he'd be taller. That's disproportionate."

"Viv. PLEASE. Oh my god. Don't just- NO." Will snorted with laughter, batting at the girl's arm. "You're terrible. Go away forever, 'kay thanks." Still grinning, he turned his attention back to Harik and beckoned him over. "Heeey, you and your friend should come with us, we were just about to hit up Noctis. That club I said I wanted to take you to, but then you evaporated? Also, hi Harik's friend! I'm Will, his sexy tour guide. And this is Viv, my marginally less sexy partner in cr... in guide? Does that work?"

"No, and I'm gonna hit you for implying I'm less sexy than you. I'm the sexiest. Ever." Viv very seriously lifted one hand and pushed her fist into Will's arm. "There. You've been hit. Take it like the bitch you are."

Will giggled, flashing a sultry grin in Harik's direction. "Maybe later."

"Not what I meant! Aaah, you sluuuutt..." Viv groaned.
 
"Very well," Aurelie picked up the piece of plastic explosive and left the man behind with the briefcase, only offering a half-wave and a quick "Hello" to Viv and Will. She slipped the charge into her jacket and headed towards the Cathedral of Verre Manies. If the church was going to crumble, that damnable building was the place to go. She remembered the picture someone had taken of her, of Lacroix on its very steps. She was going to make sure to record the cathedral's beauty, such glorious architecture was not to be wasted.
 
Harik blinked rapidly, both at the sudden arrival of an old bed mate, and at Aurelie's swift departure. The last thing the pyromancer wanted was a situation like this. The frown alone would probably be evidence enough. "Ah. Well. Excuse my friend Will. She has pressing business elsewhere, and shes pregnant aside. Its best she leaves anyway." Who could tell? Harik might have to get violent to get rid of these two. Something he was loathe to do. Will had been an amiable fellow, and a fun one at that. Between the clothes shopping and the two nights in the hotel, there weren't enough unpleasant memories to warrant harming him.

"If I had to be honest, I prefer what our mutual friend has to offer, sweet lady. Not that what you might bring to the table is any less appealing, but..." A shrug, cocksure and suggestive. "Still. Its rather late for you two to be out. Intoxicated, no less. From what I've learned of these streets, this city gets real dangerous once the sun goes down."

It was then, if Will could muster up the concentration to notice, that the changes Harik had undergone since their last meeting begun to stand out. His eyes, which had always been blue, now seemed to shine from the darkness of the alleyway. His bronze skin, still without much flaw, now seemed to have a sickly pallor to it, though from the way he spoke and carried himself, he seemed anything but infirm. On top of this, the Caldonian seemed content to sit in the darkness of the side-street, just barely in view.
 
Will grinned, shrugging. "No skin off my back," he remarked, watching Aurelie go with a bemused look. "But she doesn't seem your type..." A smirk, and he turned his attention back to the Caldonian. Beside him, Viv snorted in mock offence at Harik's comment towards her, and he snickered. "See, Viv, Harik knows what's up."

"Biased sampling," the girl declared, folding her arms. "That's all this is."

"Keep telling yourself that," Will jabbed her in the ribs, then looked at Harik. "And hey, Saint Lemeux is like ... the not dangerous part. Besides, I am a skiiilled and powerful wiiitch," the teen waved his hands dramatically, sauntering a few steps closer to Harik. "I can take care of myself..." He trailed off, then, frowning as he drew close enough to make out the oddities in Harik's appearance. "Youu... look ill... I think." He squinted slightly. "Are you okay? You're not lookin' so hot..." A pause, and a smirk. "I mean, you are... but also pale. D'you need to lie down?" Another pause, and the smirk broadened into a grin. "Cause I have a comfy bed back at my place with your name on it."

"Uhhhg." Viv rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm going to Noctis. I'll tell Arien you were sidetracked, Will. Have fun!"

With that, the pink haired girl spun around and strode off down the street.

Will glanced after her, snorting. "Don't be jelly, Viv! Talk t'ya tomorrow!"
 
Harik grimaced. This...could be bad. He made a quick point to memorize her name, her figure, everything he could about her, in case he...or his uncle...needed to track her down later. "I'm...I'm fine Will. A tad out of sorts, but other than that, I swear I'm okay."

The Caldonian would retreat another step back into the cloying dark of the alleyway. Truly, Will had been the last person, of all the possibilities, that he'd wanted to run into. It didn't help matters that he was peckish. For now, the raven haired youth couldn't tell if Winter demanded flesh or strong emotions, and he desperately hoped for the latter if it came to it at all. "Look...Will...It was nice seeing you, but I can't really talk. Not right now. Maybe not for a long, long while. Just...do me a favor, would you?"

Biting his lip, Harik would struggle to find the words, and to control his less savory desires. It was a losing battle, the hunger quickly evolving from the need for a nibble or two into a gnawing, ravenous desire. "I...Don't go outside tomorrow. At all. Something might happen to you if you do." Pale fire began to bloom behind the pyromancer's eyes, causing the desperate foreigner to turn his back to Will. He appeared to be shaking, voice raw with emotion, but in reality, he was simply clinging to himself, forcing himself to stay still. To not go after the entrails and bones of the closest thing he could call a friend in this city. Teeth began to chatter and gnash against each other, prompting the fledgling Noble Caer to slap a taloned hand across his grinning maw.

Muffled though they were, his next words were clear as crystal. "And don't approach me anymore. Its not safe for you."
 
Will stopped in his tracks, frowning at the obvious change in the Caldonian's manner. Something was wrong. Badly wrong. Something was pricking at his magical senses, which meant that whatever it was was significant, because Will's magical awareness was far from honed or sensitive. "What d'you mean..?" his frown deepened as he brought a hand up to his mouth to cover a yawn. That was odd. He'd been filled with energy just a moment ago. "Not safe..? What's going on?"

As he asked, Will made what was liable to be a significant mistake. He tapped into his magic, attempting to use it to figure out just what he was picking up on. And he did. The young witch's eyes widened and he took an involuntary, unsteady step backwards. The aura of lethargy projecting from the Caldonian was intense, but that wasn't what was alarming... it was what was behind it. There was a darkness there that overshadowed its effects, sending a spike of fear through Will's chest. "I ... Light, Harik, what..? What's happened to you?"

He took another step back, and then another, slowly backing away towards the mouth of the alley with steadily rising fear. Something had happened to his friend, something bad. Something that had changed him.
 
There was a sound like breaking bones and horrible laughter. Pale blue light, flickering like fire, began to pour from Harik's hands and snapping jaws, and horrible, monstrous eyes, though he still refused to face Will. Even speaking now was beyond him, though he desperately tried to.

The terrible noise would continue as he jerked and twisted around like a sick, twisted marionette. The air around them would seemingly freeze in place, as if every mote of heat was draining from it in an instant. Indeed, the puddles around their feet froze over with a snap. When Harik's features were actually exposed to the young witch, there would be little, if anything, left of the Caldonian. Brilliant cyan flame smoldered in once kind if arrogant eyes. Hands that once caressed and explored so earnestly were now butcher's hooks, dribbling the same fel conflagration that afflicted his unblinking orbs. The mouth was the worst of all. Gone were all traces of lips, or gums. Instead, in their place, an inferno of sapphire and a whirlwind of obsidian fangs, some as small as an arrow head but others as long as steak knives.

Words floated through the air, hungry insidious whispers. "I found that family I was talking about Will...A loving Uncle who showed me what I really was..." Behind the unfortunate soul, a blazing pillar of the same fire filled the only exit, giving off no heat but stealing it worse than whatever aura Harik was projecting ever could, so frigid it might as well burn.

The Caer from Caldonian took a single menacing step forward. "What I was meant to be..."
 
"Fuck!" Will's eyes widened as the fel noises began to pour from his friend's body, his jaw dropping in horror. "Fuck! Holy fuck!" The teen was shaking, and how much of it was shivering at the cold and how much of it was terror was difficult even for him to determine. "Harik... Wick!"

He screamed, the sound echoing through the street behind him, and turned to run, but he was too late. Blue flames poured from the ground to block his path and he let out a plaintive, terrified whimper, stumbling back and turning again to face Harik. "D-don't do this. Harik, please, j-just let me go." Tears of panic were starting to form in his eyes, as he desperately sought an escape route. "We-we're friends."

In the moments after he spoke, there was the sound of an engine revving a few streets away. It seemed that Will's scream hadn't gone unheard.
 
At first, Harik responded to neither the rapid pleas from Will nor the blaring siren growing ever closer. A step forward, followed by another, and then another, with each his visage growing more twisted, less and less human.

Maybe about a meter or so before reaching his prey, the Caeruleum-possessed pyromancer would halt, and his body would grow slack. The nightmarish features would seemingly pull back onto themselves, disappearing like they'd never existed. When the eyes of the Caldonian, no longer spewing forth scintillating lapis flame, found the cowering, trapped witch's, they were still not the eyes of his one time friend. There was a presence there, formidable and ancient, a palpable malice indescribable to the mortal mind. The stare alone was far colder than anything else Will might have experienced in this terrifying span of minutes thus far.

Then, in a voice that certainly did not belong to Harik, a single word was spoken. Incomprehensible, eldritch, with an unfathomable depth of will and force behind it. "Sleep..."
 
By the time Harik drew close, Will was openly sobbing with fear, pressed up and cowering against the wall of the alley as far back as his body could bear to go with the wall of flame barring his path. When the pyromancer stopped moving, he blinked, eyes flicking back up from where he'd been cringing away. "H-harik..?" he ventured, his voice shaking.

Then those terrible eyes met his, and the spectre of hope that had begun to form when Harik's monstrous features had receded was snuffed out. He whimpered, and then at the voice's command... slumped against the wall, unconscious.

The roaring of what was now clearly identifiable as a motorbike engine drew closer, as the Destrier rounded the corner onto the street that the alleyway opened onto. It wasn't the only one, but it was the closest. Saint Lemeux was the most heavily patrolled area of the city, and the order's arrival was imminent.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top