Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

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The mirror panel was then finished, whole and complete as though Volker had never been tossed into it. She delicately lifted it and pressed it into the wood panel, allowing her heat to meld it into the backing. As she worked, she responded, "You're right; you're trying, and that's incredibly significant. Without your tenacity to try, you wouldn't be here. None of this would be possible, but here it is. Matriel, Gabriel, and I, along with your many other friends and allies, are by your side because you try to do your best and avoid the mistakes your father has made. Congratulations, for all intents and purposes, you're as close to a mortal as can be. You have more humanity in you than some of the birdbrains in the Choirs do, and that's worth something. Treasure that ability to try, as much as you do Aislinn or anybody else."

Seeing that the mirror had remained in place, Abdiel nodded approvingly and turned to the warthog while also looking at Aislinn. "Another matter worth congratulations is Aislinn's becoming an archmage. Archmages are rare enough, but one of her age is practically unheard of. They're usually in their hundreds, not their twenties! And there was no physical death, other than the many petite morts she likely experienced," she noted good-naturedly. "Some of my brethren might disagree, but what you did could be considered a miracle."

By now, Aislinn was blushing with pride and some shyness. "Thank you, Abdiel," she replied.

The Throne sighed. "While I get that it's easy to mull and stew over your perceived weaknesses, it might be more worthwhile to focus on your new family and the wonderful things that go along with it."

*~*~*

Meris leaned back in her seat, crossed her arms, and shook her head. "No, he hasn't. He's entirely sane, but that's the kind of determination and tenacity that gets missions completed. That kind of determination comes off as madness, but it indicates Mr. Haskill's dedication to the Countess, the citizens, and Hope," she said quietly, nodding her impressed mood to him.
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

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Tom's shoulders heaved, his cloud of glumness at least reduced, if not entirely removed. "Thanks," he said. "I appreciate the encouragement, it's just -"

He hesitated, looking for the exact words he required. "Things like this hurt a lot, when you've hoped for them to turn out differently for so long. I don't have any illusions as to whether or not my father can be saved - I honestly doubt he can be saved, he's not forced to take up Lust inasmuch as he was compelled - it's just that I hoped we'd at least reach some sort of détente. A working truce, more or less. You let those who want out, out; and I'll leave you to your meaningless cavalcade of sybaritic excesses. Fair and square."

Draining his glass with a grunt, he fished out his pack of Russian cigarettes from his jacket and lit one up with a tiny tongue of Hellfire perched atop a raised thumb. He dragged on it the way lifelong smokers did to dispel aggravations or sources of stress, twin fat plumes of smoke exiting his nostrils.

"That'll teach me - having human expectations of Lust incarnate; what the Hell was I thinking?!"

The elevator's doors produced a warbling ding and opened just short of the club's actual floor, leaving a slightly bemused-looking Mel Othstein to negotiate a careful hop to the floor. The resulting grunt made him drop his lit cigar, both hands fumbling for it before it reached the ground. Having been caught off-guard, he needed to uncurl from his picking up his stogie to notice the extent of the damage the club had endured.

"Jeez Louise," he swore, his demonic self fading into view atop his human features, "who'd you hire to take care of the renovations; Tim Taylor?!"

Tom smiled and barked out a laugh, both gestures still containing some measure of bile. "Good one, Mel! I figure Home Improvement never packed in intense supernatural family drama, right?'

Mel picked up the joke as he gave his extinguished cigar a disappointed look. "Eh, the spats could get interesting, but they always started off of what basically was Buster Keaton with a reciprocating saw. Speaking of, if you're inviting me over for some extensive DIY post-trauma remodeling, the mundane approach isn't exactly my forte."

As he sat down, he gave Abdiel a rather blank glance, seeing as only Aislinn and Tom would currently see him as he truly was. He quite likely only saw "Abbie" as an appealing foreign beauty, someone Tom's new mob contacts could've ferreted out as a reasonably fetching barmaid. However blank it was, it wasn't unkind. A smile stretched out on his homely features.

"Miss," he said, nodding, "I hope you weren't down here when shit hit the fan. I imagine you bein' here means you've got the basics on Mister Magnus here, but his father's not nearly as nice, lemme tell ya."

He pouted in allowance. "Well - not as much as me, anyway," he said, chuckling. "Got a light?"

Tom rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest, in a surprisingly McConmara-like fashion. "That's Abdiel, Melmoth. The Primordial Fires made flesh, Throne of Fire, Source of All Embers, yadda yadda..."

That understandably made the Infernal Broker freeze. "Wait - really?" he said, then squinting at Abdiel like someone who would've forgotten their glasses at home. "Oy gevalt," he swore, "you weren't kiddin' when you said you were up in the big leagues!"

Something then made him grow silent, freeze and give Abdiel an uncertain side-eye. If she'd met with other demons in Limbo during Gabriel's ceaseless campaigning, she might remember it coming out of spies that entered the Archangel's camp to issue reports. It was a look that rather plainly asked if he was in any trouble. Having spent time around zealots and crusaders had probably scared Melmoth enough to not have him consider collaborating directly with angels without some careful consideration...

* * *

"Well, in any case," retorted Langdon after some silence, "it's my kind of madness. I've never stopped a member of the Fair Folk from standing by their Oaths, no matter how dangerous or foolhardy. I'm not about to start, either.
- I doubt mere allowance will suffice, husband," noted Danvers. "That said, we do have an Archmage here to vouch for the both of them."

She nodded. "An Archmage, our own Archduke, two scions of Solomon, a Knight of Summer and the spokesman for Hope's unseen and forgotten."

Surprised at the inclusion, George clumsily nodded in thanks. "That I do, Your Highness. I may not have engaged with either Milord or Milady, but Lady Eirean's stewardship of Hope has greatly contributed to my own business endeavors. I know sound tacticians when I see them, and I can appreciate the occasional daredevil's moxie."

Jane nodded again, smiling a bit more brightly this time around. "I'm sure you do, mister Gammell. If our new Fauns have given Humanity a treasure trove's worth of cures and treatments, I have scarcely begun to imagine what your Animates could offer us, were we to collaborate."

That left Gammmel to blink, inasmuch as he could. Folds in the otherwise uninterrupted curve of his upper jaw shifted, the corners of his lips working nervously. "What, if I may ask, would you propose?
- Something simple, to begin with," she said. "This isn't an Oath, mind you; merely an offer I consider timely, circumstances being what they are. I'd like to collect some biological material from you, mister Gammell, and put those facilities I have financed in order to unlock the Fauns' secrets and grant them full inclusion in our society. Originally, this began with Faun-specific medicinal compounds, many of which are now commonplace in the average medicine cabinet."

Gammell blinked again. "You wish to sequence my DNA.
- As much as possible, given your nature," allowed the Queen. "My kind have had run-ins with Void Weavers before, and their own genetic structure is a marvel of engineering. While we keep to Milady Archmage's policy of keeping their existence a secret, even to our own subjects, we've done our part in studying the enemy. Their defectors and your allies were instrumental in this: had Lucian Rothchild never bled against one of his mad spectres or insane ectoplastic beings, we never would have found a base on which to work."

George clicked his tongue. "Before we go back to our business, I noticed you not referring to the Blue Chimeras as such. Why is that?"

Titania lightly shook her head and parted her hands. "How should I refer to them? Is that not what they are? The flesh may not have realized, the Choice may not have wormed its way into any Elysium-borne consciousness for the moment, but our world's laws are quite clear: those of the Wylds who are born Lost must Choose, and Choose they will. I care not how many designer peptides and nucleotide sequences Rupert Isaacs has stuffed into those like Asapasia Robertson, she is of the Wylds, and to the Wylds she must return! It is only a matter of-"

Something made her stop and look to the side, where a rapt-looking Nybbas had scooped up one of her hands, looking rather choked up. "Your Highness, I believe I speak for the droves of my cloven-hoooved brethren who still lie alseep in the shackles of a mundane existence if I thank you with all my heart for this endorsement! Crocodile tears I may wield expertly, but none has managed to touch my heart so genuinely in over two thousand years!"

Titania looked a little taken aback, understandably. "Er - thank you, good sir? I simply fail to understand how anyone could reason otherwise, given my experiences."

That stab of naiveté seemed to further delight Nybbas, who somehow devolved into a cascade of Italian superlatives. Titania looked alternatively pleased, taken aback, amused as well as generally confused - something which left Oberon to silently snicker, one hand stroking his mustache as he observed the spectacle.
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

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Meris smiled warmly at the Queen's use of the word for Aspasia and her brethren. "While Aspasia isn't here, I think she would be deeply touched by your words, and I agree that it's only a matter of time until the Fauns start to awaken. Aspasia's mentioned others she's known who have at least temporarily gotten in touch with that part of themselves, Aspasia included. I think that's part of why things went as they did when Mr. Haskill permitted Archibald to go to Eien-no-Yuki, as that was where Aspasia first acknowledged that her Wyldfae side is waiting for her."

She looked over at her old friend. "What are your thoughts on having your DNA sequenced? While I was treating Nereus and other Void Weavers, I essentially had on the job training and learned the anatomy. However, your immune system is unpredictable as they come, so some of the remedies I'd given you would be hit or miss," she noted. "It'd give any geneticist a run for their money."

*~*~*

Abdiel sighed lightly. "You can relax, Melmoth. I'm not here for you; you're in no trouble. Mr. Magnus has hired me on as a bartender while I keep an eye on one of our more zealous types who is on probation. Mr. Magnus has the approval of Gabriel, Matriel, and me, with Hesediel throwing in his support, too."

The Fire Throne then flicked her right thumb, similar to the motion of a lighter, and presented a small, dancing flame on the tip of her thumb. She placed it near his cigar, no heavenly auras or purity emanating from the little fire. "Still need a light?" she offered with a hopeful smile. She understood that the Broker had every reason to be leery of her, but she was sincerely demonstrating that she meant no harm.

"Mr. Volker called me after Asmodeus'...display, and I came to help them clean up what can be repaired," she explained, gesturing to the good-as-new mirror as an example. "By the way, it's nice to meet you."
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

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George shrugged lightly. "Well, if the Queen of Faerie is convinced she might allow us Animates to better understand ourselves..."

Jane smiled amenably. "I'm no geneticist, mind you - merely a patron of various causes and sciences. I've financed a number of research groups over the recent decades, some of which I've needed to keep away from the purview of mortal laws. England and the United States have very limiting policies concerning genetic experimentation, and these policies counteract our efforts to understand our roots as the dragons' own Animates. While Summer and Winter might disagree on several fundamental aspects, we both tend to exist as staunchly pro-choice societies. Embryos have been fertilized, frozen and dissected in the name of our meagre advancements against the Bane, for instance. Considering, I know a number of lab coats who would consider your genetic makeup as more of a challenge than an obstacle, mister Gammell."

That made the toymaker chuckle. "I tend to prefer to stick to chess or cribbage as my chosen forms of competition...
- There is a first time for everything," mused the Queen.

Oberon then cleared his throat. "As for the object of your visit... Considering what's been said, I'm willing to officially vouch for the Lord and Lady. Vernon's Oath effectively frees us of all responsibility or potential reprisal, and our approval won't be readily apparent until they both effectively pronounce the Oath of Marriage."

He quirked an eyebrow. "What say you, wife?"

Titania's smile grew more reserved, and she nodded. "I would have preferred to offer a more tacit endorsement, but our politics are as they've always been."

Vernon looked like he barely could keep himself from sweeping Eirean off her chair. Still, it was with a dignified sigh that he recomposed himself, considered the way Oberon's approval sounded more like a political calculation than a show of goodwill, and then smiled.

"That would suffice, Your Highness. These risks are ours to take."

The Queen eyed her husband and then returned her gaze back to the couple and Archmage. "Let it be known, then: the King and Queen of Faerie approve of the union between the one Vernon Upton Haskill of House Christmas, and Eirean Deirdre ap Beltane, daughter of the Ulaidh."

Vernon looked to what now effectively was his fiancée with a surprised look. "You can trace your lineage back to one of the later Celtic tribes?"

The red-haired woman smirked. "I might've lost the accent, but you can't lose tattoos. You haven't seen me with my arms bare yet..."

The old lilt and brogue then returned to her lips. "Who knows, boyo; I might've found someone worthy of soundin' old-fashioned far..."

Vernon's response was an all-too-brief flash of passion, followed by self-conscious blushing and his nervously adjusting his gibus atop his head.

* * *

Melmoth gingerly approached his dead stogie to the offered light and took a few priming puffs, never once breaking eye contact with Abdiel. It was only as he recoiled and plucked the cigar from his mouth that he seemed to work up the nerve to relax.

"Pleasure's all mine," he replied, nodding, then glancing at the mirror. Not seeing any outward signs of damage, he briefly looked puzzled.

"Trust me," added Tom, "it was a complete loss. She even managed the silver coating and the electrolysis, somehow."

That left the Broker to scoff uneasily. "Welp, you do have yourself a Throne, Tommy... Makes me wonder what I could do to help, honestly. Anything I'd toss in would be chump change in comparison.
- You don't have enough arcane capital stocked aside to generally un-messify the rest of the place for us?"

Othstein pointed at a reconstituted bottle of Scotch behind Abdiel and shrugged. "Well, I could, but it'd only solidify my sliding down the Good Guy slope. If you let me toss in some bad mojo in for good measure, like a generally oppressive pall or some random evil cackles, I'd at least get the Goat to look aside for five minutes."

He then glanced at Abdiel. "I mean, unless you've got a professional guard detail involved, seein' as I'm one or two Boy Scout turns from gettin' kicked out of my own power base. If you know me, you know I can't do much if I don't have the Goat or Mammon's say-so. Could be that I'd help you, then end up stuck in the flesh until I find ten or twenty Princeton preppies to financially doom."

That made Tom sigh. "Aren't you tired of this, honestly?
- Heck yeah, I am!" replied Melmoth. "Problem is, it's the only way I've survived since you fleshies figured out bartering was neat!" he said, gesturing with his glass in Aislinn's direction. "One century I'm hot shit, the next one I'm scraping cigarette butts off the pavement. S'always been like this, what with fickle financiers like mine."
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

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Meris chuckled and amusedly shook her head. "The chemistry between you two... It's no wonder Neasa picked up on it when she met with you both," she commented. "In any regard, I wish you the best in this relationship and union."

*~*~*

Abdiel returned her gaze to the damage and glanced over at Tom. "I can help with the structural issues to the building by heating the atoms just enough to pull them back into shape. Like the mirror, I could reconstitute the bottles; however, I can't do much about the alcohol, as it's already evaporated to the point of being sticky. I might be able to meet you halfway on the matter."

She quietly mulled the dilemma over for a few minutes and then contemplatively looked down on her arm. "You could add in the maniacal, evil laughter and the generally oppressive atmosphere, but is there any way you could trick the the Goat or Mammon into thinking you did something genuinely evil? Let's say, spill some angel blood? That might give you some breathing room, Melmoth, and enough capital to help Mr. Magnus with the renovations."

The Throne's suggestion made Aislinn gape momentarily and exclaim, "What?! You don't have to do that, Ab-!" She was silenced by the other woman's headshake.

"Consider it some payback for not being here when you were in trouble," she answered. "You need to get this place back into shape before the opening date. All that I ask is that you both use more caution in the future. Gabriel already saved you from that Duke; now I can help you with this," she stated.

Her reply seemed sound to the selkie, despite her reluctance to have the angel do that. She looked over at the warthog and limestone-skinned demon. "Well, what do you think?"
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

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"And you'll need the best," opined Oberon, "as the chips fall where they may when it comes to relationships like this once they leak out into the Fae's greater public awareness," he said, as he pulled out his smartphone, an expensive-looking calf leather and diamond-screen based affair. He gave the phone a single push of a button that had gleamed like a tiny ruby, his thumbs then flying across the screen in a display modern tech-obsessed mundanes would've had trouble keeping up with.

"I've just fired off a note to Rupert's desk," he then said, looking up. "You'll find our official writ waiting in both your email inboxes, back home."

Vernon seemed amused by that. "In my day, a gentleman of quality wasn't much without a decent batman or butler. Nowadays, all one needs is Google Assistant. Seeing Aidan Drake use ride-hailing applications back home seemed rather striking: the concierge of old is back, only he now lives between sillicon wafers and is accessible to even the least-remunerated individual."

Eir smirked at that, having gone back to her coastal American accent. "I'm an Apple girl, myself. I know, shoot me - but the ecosystem's easy when you're too busy to learn to put everything together on your own. Siri's turned into the helpful little sister I never knew I had. I don't mean to pressure Your Highnesses, but isn't there any tangible immediate guarantee you can offer us? We both have close staffs and they'll take to the news of our engagement fairly well, but not all my subjects are known for their level-headedness. Not all of Vernon's, either, especially now."

Oberon and Titania exchanged a look and then looked back to Meris. Titania's smile gained a slightly beckoning allure. "Milady Meris, could I possibly impose on you to use your vast resources to bestow my friends and justifiable worry-warts with some token of protection? Oaths would be detected instantly, but polite requests are as stealthy as can be."

Hexes tended to serve as the more recognizable facet of causality-alteration magic, but arcane reserves didn't necessarily need to be used to make someone's life worse. Blessings were usually associated to priests, Cantors in their full fervor or angels, but Meris would've been around the block a few times by now, enough to understand that carefully-constructed songs weren't always necessary. Sometimes, a bit of inner harmony and outward focus did the job perfectly well.

* * *

Melmoth hesitated. "Well, thanks, I guess. That'd be the first time an angel would willingly bleed for me and the first time I'd actually harm one of you folks," he said, gesturing at Abdiel, "but..."

He took a drag and exhaled. "The thing is, you haven't earned it. You're not some Ivy League doucher with a superiority complex; you're the Throne of Fire. You're someone who's known her place in the grand scheme of things for millennia, and who's never, not once, let it go to her head. The Goat hates your guts precisely 'cause of that weird, contradictory mix of control and destructive force; he thinks you're one of the first hypocrites to ever see stars go nuclear."

He gestured to Tom and Aislinn. "I can't hate the kid here, I can't hate Magnus, I can't hate you, Abbie, and I know enough about resignation to not hate myself overly much. If I don't have a good reason, how am I supposed to go Czernabog?"

He then reached over the bar, fished out an ashtray at random and rested his cigar in it. He then unbuttoned his jacket, stood up and raised a finger. "See, this is what I've been doing in front of a mirror when nobody's around, for the past few weeks. It's like a muscle that I've pulled and I can barely just-"

More smoke exited Melmoth's mouth and nostrils than the cigar should have allowed, now that it wasn't in his mouth, and he slowly raised his arms, a bit like a conductor commanding a crescendo. As he did, however, he seemed to both grow and sink down into a pool of extending shadows. His jacket, vest, shirt and tie seemed to be swallowed in gloom, letting his features to distort until he effectively looked like a ten feet-tall horned being crafted entirely out of smoke and shadow, arms raised as if to howl in challenge or victory. For a brief moment, the negative pall of a demonic manifestation again permeated the club. Unlike Asmodeus', however, Melmoth's felt like a firecracker of pure darkness: intense, superficially impressive, and quickly expended. As he did, his voice grew and distorted, going for the kind of Chtonian basso you would've stuck to a late-sixties Ray Harryhausen stop-motion demon.

"I can... BARELY... JUST... BULK OUT..."

Just as Melmoth briefly reached his peak as a savagely muscled mass of oily smoke, biceps curled as if under extreme duress, he seemed to collapse in on himself like a deflated balloon. All pretenses of primal evil pulled back along with his efforts, like water circling down the drain. Said noxious vibes quickly revealed themselves to be the trumped-up version of his basic and fairly sympathetic sense of presence - a rather literal smokescreen exposing that he wasn't much more than a likeable schmoe stuck trying to pretend being evil. What emerged out of the dissipating smoke was a more disheveled-looking Infernal Broker, his tie now crooked and his clothes looking frumpy. Beads of sweat shone across his face, his jowls working as wheezing inhales and exhales left him hanging onto the bar for dear life.

"I can't... I couldn't... Corrupt a single... choir boy even if I... tried. It's been bottom-feeders for months, now... and it's hurting my bottom line..."

He wheezed for a few more seconds. "Anyone got... coffee? Or an asthma inhaler?"

Tom blinked. "This is serious, then. How do you think you could help us, considering?"

Still wheezing, Melmoth settled with making a little spiral with a finger and mouthing the words. I'm backwards, now. Like my mojo pool's gotten used to being tapped for Good.

He'd then recovered enough to speak a bit. "By Pitspawn standards, I'm turning into food for the bigger fish. I'm still not human, I'm sure as shit not a Celestial either... I'm taking your route, Magnus, only I'm taking it too quickly for my body to follow suit!"

He shook his head and chuckled, giving Aislinn a look of mock anger. "This is all your goddamn fault, you fleshbags; what with your empathy, your mercy, your compassion and that inventiveness of yours. I was twice damned the moment I set eyes on the first Italian money-lending bench! Who am I kidding, though, I sure as shit ain't gonna resent you for my own stupid luck and my own hard times!"
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

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The Archmage nodded. "Of course I can. That should be easy enough," she replied, then eyeing the pair of engaged Fae. "Give me your hands, please," she directed.

Once they would have done so, Meris closed her eyes and breathed deeply, gathering herself into a centered frame of mind. She envisioned bonds of energetic ribbon intricately weaving around their hands, like in an old-fashioned handfasting. Power subtly filled her voice as she began to gently sing the blessing,

"Thrice-entwined by the World's Breath,
by rowan, ash, and alder,
may this joined union know safety,
may they know comfort,
may they know the blessing of the home.

No mortal, no Fae, nor being from beyond
shall tear this bond asunder,
every day and every night,
protected by their shields of love.

May you know the blessing of each other's presence,
may it surround and keep you,
every day and every night,
from those who would try to steal it away."

As per the norm, a faint hum and blue glow surrounded the Heiress and the couple as the blessing-song wove around them and took effect. Eirean and Vernon would feel the strength and power seep into them like a gentle breeze. They would feel it personally, but it would certainly not be as obvious as an Oath, yet it was silently there warding them.

*~*~*

Aislinn scoffed nervously, as she was rather stumped as to how they could help him.

Melmoth's mouthed words immediately got the Throne thinking how they could work around his impediment. She recalled Heathcliff's repayment request for earthly asylum via the Vienna Accords, but that time was still weeks or even months away, There had to be some method she devise to give the Broker another means to use his power to benefit good while keeping him safe from Mammon or the Goat, as they were sure to not take kindly to his dealings with them anyway.

An idea, a very unorthodox one, dawned on her. Her gleaming eyes slid over other to the worn out demon as she brought him some water to ease his exhaustion. "I think I have a possible work-around to your problem, Melmoth."

She seated herself beside him and explained her proposal, "I'm thinking that I could form a sort of bond with you, most likely a temporary one until you're granted asylum. It'd be something like what we do when we assign angels to look after certain mortals, only with the caveat you'd be able to access a tiny bit of my power. In comparison what you normally have with Hellfire, it'd still be a lot. This potential bond has no precedent, so I'm working as I go here. With what's coming and the Goat being a pissy git, you're probably going to need some help with protection anyway. I'm moving into one of the apartments soon enough, so I'll be here and not in Heaven for quite a while. You'd be able to tap into the Good power while not being a Celestial but also not really a Pitspawn, either."

Given how peculiar this prospective link sounded to even her, Abdiel lightly bit her bottom lip and shrugged. "Would you be willing to accept that? I know it's sudden and a lot to take in, since you just got here and all, but that's what I have at the moment."
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

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Vernon and Eir both looked slightly self-conscious as Meris began, but that impression soon faded. The Archmage seemed to fade from their lines of sight and they locked eyes together. By the last verses, they'd quietly joined the roane in her words and then bowed their heads, basking in the blessing's afterglow for a few seconds.

Titania had stood up since then, and looked like empathy threatened to peel off some of her perfected layers of composure. A pinky finger lightly dabbed on the corner of one eye, and she joined her hands together in front of herself.

"Thank you, Milady Archmage," she then softly said. "Would that I could have done more, but our Oaths would have attracted the attention of those very enemies that so recently made an attempt on their lives. Your blessing was deeply moving; would that I could weave Oaths with as much poetic fervor."

Oberon had remained seated and settled with a light shrug. "Different needs for different situations, love. Neither of us have ever needed to shoulder an awen before, while I'd wager our illustrious guest could give our people's bànfaiths pause."

Titania opted to fill that in for the benefit of the others. "Bànfaiths are priestesses and seeresses to our Banshees. Female druids, more or less, with a focus on Divination."

"I've never met a Banshee before," idly noted Nybbas, sounding like he expected the encounter to be delightful. That left a now-recomposed Haskill to lightly scoff.

"Pray, my friend, that you never do. Or at the very least, that your run-ins with Weasel Biggs' personal secretary are kept to a strict minimum.
- What's she like?" asked the Faun.

Vernon canted his head aside. "Charming enough, I'd say. Well-spoken and in clear possession and control of her Mantle; but with a core of dark ice where some of her human qualities would lie. She assesses every single situation tactically and doles out smiles like a seasoned battlefield sniper does his rifle rounds. Silve is not Riona, not by a long shot - but she is no small part of the Biggs empire's continued existence and success in North America. Weasel seems an adequate manager, but his milder take on mob law has earned him enemies both near and far."

* * *

As Abdiel talked, Mel settled with slowly, gratefully gulping down the glass' contents. He finished just as she did, which left him to give her a slightly bleary-eyed look.

"I'm sorry, I must've missed a page, here. Are you suggesting that I, a Pitspawn, tap into your power to survive? 'Cause if this is it, I might as well stick a neon sign around my neck, something that'd flash and say Come and get me, you bleating son of a bitch."

Tom offered a lopsided pout as he now paced behind the bar, cigarette poking out from his lips at an odd upwards angle. "I agree it's not subtle, Melmoth, but I'm used to ignoring subtlety, myself. I could give a summons a fair shot and pay you the best tribute I possibly could as a summoner, but that wouldn't be much more than a patch-up job. That's without mentioning how I don't really want extra wealth or power. Any bartering rounds we'd consider wouldn't feel genuine to you."

Still, Melmoth smiled. "The fact that you'd do that means the world to me right now, so thank you - but Abbie's right on the money. She's the only choice I've got right now, which is kinda scary. There ain't a single demon that channelled a chunk of Light or Fire that actually survived. Last guy who tried going Antichrist happened right after the first one kicked the bucket, and he didn't make it past cornering Abbie here in some dark corner of the galaxy. Of course, he was black as sin and I'm just..."

He ran a finger along his own cheek and then inspected the oily run-off that clung to the limb's pad. "Sympathy's made it hard for me to pull off the Goat's Exquisite Evil nonsense," he said, pulling air-quotes. "I'm not even Mammon's all-consuming Greed - I'm your pedestrian take on Greed. I'm all the shit people do to shore themselves up because they're afraid or they've got loved ones to take care of. Every decent excuse, every white lie used in the name of supposedly righteous wealth..."

Tom shrugged. "You're not nearly as punchable as my father, but I don't exactly condone anyone who actually champions deregulation because some asshats with an Ivy League diploma deserve to eat crow."

Melmoth also shrugged that off. "Be that as it may, some of those Ivy League asshats need me, or else they couldn't justify their everyday little evils. They wouldn't have someone to torture them, make 'em look off to what it is they're missing out on while I'm dragging them out to fast cars, supermodels, drug abuse and Louis Vuitton suits. Everyone else?"

The Broker smirked at that. "Heck, you know me - I got zero problems with anyone else. No cause whatsoever to damn anyone who doesn't go for self-serving cheap thrills marketed a coupla Ks a shot.
- The problem is you can't tap into these types anymore, right? You're literally too good for it?"

Melmoth sighed at that, giving Abdiel a dismayed look. "Fuck, I had to head back to enabling the Trumps again, for Lu's sake! The Trumps, Abbie, the biggest losers of the 2017 primaries! I was the one who cooked up that Romanian hooker scandal, actually, all so Dafyd Jones' landslide victory would turn into a mudslide. There's no meal ticket with that disgraced Manhattan cabal, not when their collective souls weigh less than a nun's fart!"
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

Post by TennyoCeres84 »

Meris hummed thoughtfully as she pondered over the chances of someone within her circle meeting Silve. "The only opportunity for anybody that I know to meet with her might be in the case of my granddaughter Aislinn's partnership with Tom. However, I don't see them interacting much for other than simple business matters," she said.

*~*~*

At the mention of the depths Melmoth had needed to sink to, her nose wrinkled slightly. Abdiel then sighed and stated further, "The main reason that previous demons died when they tried to take Celestial fire is because it was by force and in a much larger quantity than what I'm going to give to you. I know you were once approached by Gabriel to potentially Ascend, but you declined. Despite that, I think you can handle receiving that power; I have enough confidence and faith in you that such a process won't hurt you."

She then looked down at her hand as she thought over how it would actually work. "I'd say a blood oath would be the best way to do it. It's a strong connection, but without the depth of ritual similar to what Tom and Aislinn did earlier. We would be bonded, and you'd receive some of my power."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

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"That seems likely to change quickly," noted Titania. "With the Lord and Lady now blessed and guaranteed our diplomatic approval, Rhode Island may yet avoid at least some measure of what seems like a grisly fate to follow."

Eirean nodded. "That brings us to the second object of our visit. I would like to request the permission to relocate parts of my official functions to Frosthall, Holden Hall's Faerie twin. The Greenvale is still adequate when public events are in need of consideration, but those audiences I share with my subjects tend to irritate my customers on occasion. Rarely have I ever been able to fully open the hotel to outside guests."

Judging by their looks, Jane and Langdon both found this matter to be far simpler to handle. "Agreed," said Oberon. "Our enemies respond well to displays of force, and it simply doesn't do well for one of my Lords to hold office from Evergloam's Winter quarter. As populist as it might be, I think you've convinced those that needed convincing by now," he said to Vernon.

Haskill settled with an uncertain half-pout and half-smirk. "'Mantle notwithstanding, I am not nearly as mercurial as some of my subjects would prefer. It stands to reason Eirean and I both moving will earn me new allies and enemies - at least within my Court."

Miles smiled at that. "You can handle a few dropped monocles, Haskill. With our writ in hand, all you'll need is a decent Chamberlain to screen complaints for the both of you."

The elfin-eared Fae nodded. "That might require some research; I've always kept a minimal attendance."

Again, Oberon chuckled. "Not much for pie-tailed hanger-ons, eh? Pardon that bit of a Yankee outburst, but you always did strike me as the type to have a Jeeves for your Bertie."

Haskill's eyes twinkled as he smiled, the insults of earlier now at least brushed aside. "I might have appreciated having one, a few centuries ago... Before Choosing, back when things were altogether more grim for me."

Langdon nodded. "Right. I never had the chance to ask you before, but what's it like? Choosing as an old man, I mean."

Vernon chuckled knowingly. "One moment, I was a withered old man with plaque-riddled arteries, a horrible case of sleep apnea, as well as the kind of crippling depression my native society naively confused for a phlegmatic temper. I got up in the morning to be dressed by a fussing housekeeper, only to collapse in my living room's easy chair and nod off again. The next instant, I could run a mile flat-out without being winded. No aches, no pains - and a clarity of thought the likes of which I hadn't enjoyed since before those events you are already familiar with."

Naberius managed to make his curiosity look as genteel as he usually was. Vernon responded to the raised eyebrow with a wizened smirk.

"I... lost my wife and child to cholera. I had married old and would have joined them, had I not picked the strangest moment to have an epiphany. A stroke would have done me in within the week - of that I am convinced."

Benson's ears quirked. "So, wait. You spend over sixty years as a Changeling?!"

Vernon shrugged. "Not everyone ends up Choosing in their prime, Lieutenant. The irony of it all is that my now staggeringly youthful companion is factually older than me by several centuries."

Eir smiled at that. "May-December works both ways, in our case."

* * *

Melmoth looked understandably overwhelmed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa - time out, let's back up: you barely know me, and you're giving me access to even just a smidge of the Primordial Flames?!"

He blinked his eyes a few times. "That's not just worth a handshake, darling, or a wine bottle or diamonds! I just-"

The Broker scoffed, shook his head and smiled incredulously. "I can't process that! No one's ever-"

Melmoth's eyes went wide as he stared at a startling realization. "No one's ever offered to help me," he said, his voice quiet. "It's always been two thumbs for This Guy, self-reliance or bust..."

The demon more or less slumped on the nearest bar stool and stared at a random spot between Abdiel and the wall. "I'm a worthless schmuck of a Fiend with barely enough power to keep my surface-level luck running, I'm weeks away from mundane-level insolvency, all I've got left is that Desperate Bargaining slush fund I mentioned around Gabriel, Heathcliff is basically working for free on the arcane level - and you wanna help me."

A few seconds passed, and he then gave another bleary-eyed look to Abdiel. "Seriously - can I hug you?"
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