Meris chuckled at the canine's feigned offense and crossed her arms thoughtfully. "This is an appropriate location for essentially cramming for an important meeting with the leaders of Faerie. So, are the members of the Court coming to meet us, or do I need to call them here?" she inquired.
***
The inner discussion between Tom and his Id marveled the roane, and she was even more amazed by his declaration to devote himself completely to her. The new tone to his voice sounded whole to her, something definitely not Quint, not quite like the original Tom or his raspy, nasally counterpart, but someone who had essentially been reborn. It fit him well, she thought.
Their kiss topped all the others they had shared. The first one in Archie's library had been great, but lustfully mechanical, a means for sustenance but likely also the seed that sowed his initial attraction for her. Others had less of the nourishment requirement and more of the yearning factor, like a thread that was leading the incubus through a maze. This one solidified his wandering through the labyrinth and to his goal of freedom, acceptance, and love. She sank into it with all the relish and care her heart could muster.
Their union built up to a sensation she had never had or could have experienced before. All of the spells, incantations, and warding could not prepare her for the surge of Life that powered through her limbs and body. The feeling went beyond all the things she associated with her identity as Aislinn McConmara. Her job, her style, her interests, her art all seemed like mere outer manifestations of who she was. It should have terrified her, yet it didn't. She knew she was safe, safe with Tom and safe in her Power. There was the incredible sense that she could do anything or oppose anything, but she realized this was where so many mages could get lost in their newfound, but illusory strength. This was what could corrupt them and consume them entirely. She didn't want that. The new Immortal wanted to share her power for the benefit of others, to protect her loved ones and the city in which she lived.
The blue-white werefire symbolized how complete she felt with Tom and with herself. All at once blazing, yet controlled and serene. Harm could have been done to her lover with the sheer amount of arcane energies filling the room and seeping into everything, but it didn't. It was held in a perfect stasis as they continued their amorous ministrations. Her mind's thoughts echoed how Tom's very cells loved her, yet they didn't combust with the pressure of so much power. She felt like they were the only ones in the world, joined together physically, mentally, and spiritually.
Her beau seemed to be in a slight daze, where she was when he had given himself to her. Clarity was starting to return to her, even if she still felt like she was on the Plane of Bliss.
By this point, Aislinn was crying tears of joy, which glimmered in the the werelight surrounding them, and chuckled at Tom's admission. "That sounds nice, but what do I do next with all of this via and Hellfire to complete the ritual?" she panted.
Chapter IV - Earthly Delights
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TennyoCeres84
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights
His chest glistening with sweat, Tom gasped and heaved for a few moments, a bewildered smile playing on his features, before he took a look outside. It soon became obvious the only source of light in the room was the plumes of werelight that surrounded them.
"Ground yourself through me," he gasped. "Let it all go - we don't want half the city up in arms about this," he said, still laughing. "I barely felt your ascension, I'll survive your giving some of that new power back to the earth."
Still lying down, he reached for one of Aislinn's hands and threaded his fingers through hers. "You're immortal, now. Nothing short of an Archmage could kill you!" he said, wonderment obvious in his voice. "It's you and me, Padawan," he said, "for as long as you'll dare."
He closed his eyes and craned his head back. "There was Meris of the Orcades, we now have Aislinn of Rhode Island, Weaver of Ink and Curselifter... This Warlock salutes you, Milady Sorceress..."
* * *
Naberius smirked. "We'll take to your offices, my dear. Once there, all you'll need is your ring and your authority. You know enough to know we will all gladly come forth."
A few corridor bends saw Meris out to a carved balcony in the mesa, the scent of vines and wildflowers along with that of a freshwater spring mixing in the air. Tapestries covered the walls and floor, most likely to contain heat during the desert's cool nights. The currently empty brasiers waited for the evening's coals, the Middle-East's mid-morning casting clear light inside the room. Apart for a few armoires and chests of drawers, the only pieces of furniture were a gigantic bronze plate balanced upon stone trestles, and high-set Greco-Roman seats. Eighteen places could be counted, including what looked like a small limestone throne at end of the table. A bronze gavel waited on the table in front of the throne, which Vernon curiously picked up. That made Naber toss his head in allowance.
"As much of a common accord as our bond to the Heiress places us in, each of us if of a different province of the Pit, originally. We may collaborate and move forwards as one, we can still be rather fractious at times. We haven't needed to come to blows in close to two thousand years and have always remained civil to one another in that time, but that does not exclude passion from our discussions."
Haskill raised an eyebrow. "So, Solomon called you to order when focus was lost, then.
- Precisely," replied Naber with a nod. "Vassago is flexible as a requirement of his posting, and so is Samigina - but Agares picks his words as carefully as Nybbas did our king's robes and perfumes. Beleth is our accountant and resident mathematician; Cartesian is his middle name - Amduscias is our makeshift Ministry of Culture and our faded rock god-cum-anthropologist, Procell was one of Matriel's assistants but fell out of favor with him during the Fall - Solomon picked him up to handle Israel's waterworks. There's Sear, our all-purpose engineer and Meris' guardian angel during her rare instances of cat burglaring..."
Benson grunted. "So there's a lot.
- Oh, quite. However, most of us tend to have our own side projects. I can't say whether or not everyone I've listed shall be present."
"Ground yourself through me," he gasped. "Let it all go - we don't want half the city up in arms about this," he said, still laughing. "I barely felt your ascension, I'll survive your giving some of that new power back to the earth."
Still lying down, he reached for one of Aislinn's hands and threaded his fingers through hers. "You're immortal, now. Nothing short of an Archmage could kill you!" he said, wonderment obvious in his voice. "It's you and me, Padawan," he said, "for as long as you'll dare."
He closed his eyes and craned his head back. "There was Meris of the Orcades, we now have Aislinn of Rhode Island, Weaver of Ink and Curselifter... This Warlock salutes you, Milady Sorceress..."
* * *
Naberius smirked. "We'll take to your offices, my dear. Once there, all you'll need is your ring and your authority. You know enough to know we will all gladly come forth."
A few corridor bends saw Meris out to a carved balcony in the mesa, the scent of vines and wildflowers along with that of a freshwater spring mixing in the air. Tapestries covered the walls and floor, most likely to contain heat during the desert's cool nights. The currently empty brasiers waited for the evening's coals, the Middle-East's mid-morning casting clear light inside the room. Apart for a few armoires and chests of drawers, the only pieces of furniture were a gigantic bronze plate balanced upon stone trestles, and high-set Greco-Roman seats. Eighteen places could be counted, including what looked like a small limestone throne at end of the table. A bronze gavel waited on the table in front of the throne, which Vernon curiously picked up. That made Naber toss his head in allowance.
"As much of a common accord as our bond to the Heiress places us in, each of us if of a different province of the Pit, originally. We may collaborate and move forwards as one, we can still be rather fractious at times. We haven't needed to come to blows in close to two thousand years and have always remained civil to one another in that time, but that does not exclude passion from our discussions."
Haskill raised an eyebrow. "So, Solomon called you to order when focus was lost, then.
- Precisely," replied Naber with a nod. "Vassago is flexible as a requirement of his posting, and so is Samigina - but Agares picks his words as carefully as Nybbas did our king's robes and perfumes. Beleth is our accountant and resident mathematician; Cartesian is his middle name - Amduscias is our makeshift Ministry of Culture and our faded rock god-cum-anthropologist, Procell was one of Matriel's assistants but fell out of favor with him during the Fall - Solomon picked him up to handle Israel's waterworks. There's Sear, our all-purpose engineer and Meris' guardian angel during her rare instances of cat burglaring..."
Benson grunted. "So there's a lot.
- Oh, quite. However, most of us tend to have our own side projects. I can't say whether or not everyone I've listed shall be present."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights
"Thank you, love," Aislinn responded, kissing him on the lips and threading her fingers with his.
She resumed her movements, this time with a different focus. So much of the ritual had been like a marathon uphill on an arcane and spiritual level. However, this trip back was like a slow sliding down the summit. As she worked at it, she envisioned the via and Hellfire gradually seeping down through her limps and torso, down through Tom's own body, and further down through the building until it would reach the ground itself and flow out from there.
Given how much energy had been soaked into their ritual, the new Immortal had a deeper understanding of how the World's Breath now worked. It flowed like water, and it made her understand why her people's words for "sea" and "magic" had similar etymologies.
***
"Right," Meris answered, figuring the limestone throne was a good place to call them from. She raised her ring-bearing hand and focused on her authority as Heiress. "I, Meris of the Orcades, Heiress of King Solomon, call the Court to this chamber to convene on important matters!" she declared, feeling her power reach out to them.
She resumed her movements, this time with a different focus. So much of the ritual had been like a marathon uphill on an arcane and spiritual level. However, this trip back was like a slow sliding down the summit. As she worked at it, she envisioned the via and Hellfire gradually seeping down through her limps and torso, down through Tom's own body, and further down through the building until it would reach the ground itself and flow out from there.
Given how much energy had been soaked into their ritual, the new Immortal had a deeper understanding of how the World's Breath now worked. It flowed like water, and it made her understand why her people's words for "sea" and "magic" had similar etymologies.
***
"Right," Meris answered, figuring the limestone throne was a good place to call them from. She raised her ring-bearing hand and focused on her authority as Heiress. "I, Meris of the Orcades, Heiress of King Solomon, call the Court to this chamber to convene on important matters!" she declared, feeling her power reach out to them.
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights
Tom's impressions were rather complementary to Aislinn's. If she later asked him to describe the experience, he would've qualified it as the warmest, kindest and most all-encompassing embrace he'd ever known. They could've made love next to a fireplace that he would've felt a fraction of what he experienced. It felt like a return to a womb he'd never known, the warm and welcoming abode he'd never been born in. In that instant, he knew that no amount of happiness would ever equal what he felt. Aidan and Lieutenant Silva had probably never been this happy, not would have been Crystal and Archie. His mind swam with contradicting, if pleasurable desires, from lifting himself up and embracing his companion to sinking ever deeper in the mattress, that single handhold of theirs now meaning more to him than any hug or caress.
"Home," he whispered, head craned as far back as he could, eyes closed and every inch of him now blissfully relaxed under the roane. "After two thousand, three hundred and seventy-five years - I've made my way home. I know it's possible, now. I can show my people home."
He sighed. "I'd cry if I wasn't so grateful. All we've ever needed, for all of my research, was to be loved..."
If Aislinn looked down, she'd realize Tom's chest had gained a slightly translucent property. The main blood vessels were dark and hazy lines burrowed deep, his shallower veins and bigger capillaries sharply underlined around his heart. The organ proper was a vaguely visible mass, beating slowly to the tune of what had to be complete relaxation - and glowing like a piece of amber in the sun. The thick and regular shadows of his ribs partially covered it, but it still could be clearly seen.
Slowly, the city's lights returned, soon, the almost imperceptible hum of power reached their ears - and so did their smartphones' delayed message alerts and ringtones. The living room's cordless phone soon chimed in. Tom groaned in response.
"Nooo, I'd been this close to nodding off without being erect, for once! We'll char-broil the meddlesome fools - you provide the liquid, I'll add fire..."
As he opened his new eyes and gave Aislinn an unusual look - gentle concern without lustful underpinnings - he carefully removed her from atop him. "Do you look different, somehow? I mean, besides the obvious A God am I undertones everyone goes through after leeching off so much via. You honestly look like you could Suplex Neasa with a single arm, right now."
He looked down on himself. "Or maybe it's me. I, uh - thinking without libido being involved feels like I've got tons of headroom up here, pun not intended; but now I actually get why men fall asleep after this. If I went through a tenth of what I felt, I'd curl up and clock out forever too - I'd be that grateful, honestly..."
Then came bewildered blinks. "Oh, right - phones are ringing. Does your head feel this echo-y after sex? Is my body undergoing a stroke without me noticing?"
He patted his own face, checking for signs of sagging facial features. Finding none, he went back to bewilderment and padded off to the cordless phone looking like a goofier and less dramatic take on a shell shock victim.
* * *
Naberius took a seat, not so much looking like Meris had summoned him - which she technically had - and more like he'd received a workplace memo about a meeting. As he sat down, however, his true self seemed to layer itself on top of his mortal body, the modern suit and tie bleeding back into the riding pants and late nineteenth-century blue morning jacket he'd initially affected, his Setter Spaniel ears morphing into his true form's more dingo-like ears, necktie traded for his white cravat and his mane of impeccably groomed head fur and odd mustache perched below his snout all reaffirming themselves. He pulled out a monocle from a front pocket, blew on it to dislodge a few specks of dirt and then crossed his legs together at the knees, exposing the top of a pair of spatterdashes. He pulled out a pocket watch, checked the time, and eyed the door they'd come through.
"Please, friends," he then added, "take a few seats! We've always kept a few extra for the occasional covert meeting with heads-of-state or various other personages of import - we don't have favorites per se."
He then canted his head in allowance. "Well. Agares and Samigina tend to pick one another's seats, jovial insults get tossed around - we needed centuries to understand what Agares meant when he said Sam was such a dimwit that his fleet's scullions would qualify for a Pulitzer before he would - but they'll know enough to avoid butting in if you happened to pick their behind's favorite resting place."
Spector and Haskill managed to sit down while looking the general picture of men who had a right to be here, while Eirean, Benson and George looked a bit more self-conscious.
A few moments later, an aging man's voice was heard in the distance, along with the slapping of soles on the stone floor.
"- no, I told you, Parker, we need to cover that angle sharper than anyone else! I want ears with the Hope Herald the moment the planes merge, comprende, kid?! Either we play this tighter than a nun's ass or the public opinion swerves on the three M's faster than you can say Fox Freaking News! We're past pussyfooting; I want men down in the Pit with recorders and cameras! I want every scrap of goodwill the portals are generating - I wanna see a Pitspawn moved to the point of tears with Hope's Municipal Council going in on some group-hug Avatar shit! Yes, Parker, I want you to go Sexy Blue Aliens on Hell's wretches, and I don't care how long it takes! The Pit needs to be a marketable brand starting yesterday, or else Hope is gonna shit hate crimes left and right! If I had a blood pressure to worry about, sport, you woulda done killed me with my having to explain everything to you!"
The voice paused, as the running, slapping footsteps grew closer. "Yes, I'm running, Parker, and yes I'm off to a meeting with the Big Cheese! Yes, she's one of the Three M's, check our Mnemonics guidelines on the server, for chrissakes! Meris, Magnus, McConmara! Meris, Magnus, McConmara! Lucifer's left fucking horn, Parker, don't make me regret your passively possessing Hunter S. Thompson for six years - that kinda training can't be bought anymore! Now it's all blogs and Joe Average yapping on his iPhone with no journalistic integrity!"
Another pause. "We're muckrakers, kid, but we're Solomon's muckrakers. Grab 'em by the balls, control the message, and you can steer the whole world to a brighter future. So yes, we're muckrakers with integrity, no matter how fucked-up that sounds to your puny mind, alright? I gotta go - you're driving me meshuggah with your intern-grade crap! Call HR if you'd rather we lobbed you back in Graphic Design's cavernous depths!"
The doors were then kicked open, as a medium-sized and aging man rushed in, arms laden with a faded messenger bag, a large manila folder bursting with hard-copy documents and a laptop's tote bag. He wore faded grey slacks and a rumbled white shirt, along with a black tie and unbuttoned charcoal vest that had clearly seen better days. He was decidedly on the hatchet-faced side of things, reptilian scales creeping over pale humanoid skin and covered by a long, white beard. His bifocals looked to be permanently askew and his eyes were an odd golden-brown shade, slitted vertically like a crocodile's. A wireless earpiece was rested against a crooked and pointed ear, its light blinking blue. His head covering was decidedly odd, looking like a bronze circlet from Antiquity crossed with a modern visor cap. He eyed the group as if he'd always known them - or was too busy to bother wish shock - and settled with wheezed and whispered Hiyas and a single, deeper nod towards Meris.
The man needed something close to two full minutes to unburden himself from what he'd carried over, sprawling his material on the table in a way that likely annoyed the other members of the Court. He then sat down, huffing out a long breath that suggested he didn't get much downtime.
"Oy, my aching back," he said, looking at nobody in particular. He then refocused on Meris. "Um - Your Highness? Hi. Agares, patron for liars and truth-makers. Pleased t'meetcha. We've got our own newsroom in a lil' pocket dimension from my office, but I'm usually warping between here and six or seven Editorial departments across the planet. Me and my guys, we're, uh, editorial slants made flesh and bone. We used to spread lies and dissent until Solomon wrangled us in and won us over with his project. We, um, basically astroturf printed news and the Web to silence hate and discord as much as possible. We're the little voices keeping the conservatives from blaming everything on mages or immigrants, and we know the enemy team's M.O. better than they do. I'd shake your hand, but I'm covered in about six different kinds of toner ink and I last showered six time zones ago."
"Home," he whispered, head craned as far back as he could, eyes closed and every inch of him now blissfully relaxed under the roane. "After two thousand, three hundred and seventy-five years - I've made my way home. I know it's possible, now. I can show my people home."
He sighed. "I'd cry if I wasn't so grateful. All we've ever needed, for all of my research, was to be loved..."
If Aislinn looked down, she'd realize Tom's chest had gained a slightly translucent property. The main blood vessels were dark and hazy lines burrowed deep, his shallower veins and bigger capillaries sharply underlined around his heart. The organ proper was a vaguely visible mass, beating slowly to the tune of what had to be complete relaxation - and glowing like a piece of amber in the sun. The thick and regular shadows of his ribs partially covered it, but it still could be clearly seen.
Slowly, the city's lights returned, soon, the almost imperceptible hum of power reached their ears - and so did their smartphones' delayed message alerts and ringtones. The living room's cordless phone soon chimed in. Tom groaned in response.
"Nooo, I'd been this close to nodding off without being erect, for once! We'll char-broil the meddlesome fools - you provide the liquid, I'll add fire..."
As he opened his new eyes and gave Aislinn an unusual look - gentle concern without lustful underpinnings - he carefully removed her from atop him. "Do you look different, somehow? I mean, besides the obvious A God am I undertones everyone goes through after leeching off so much via. You honestly look like you could Suplex Neasa with a single arm, right now."
He looked down on himself. "Or maybe it's me. I, uh - thinking without libido being involved feels like I've got tons of headroom up here, pun not intended; but now I actually get why men fall asleep after this. If I went through a tenth of what I felt, I'd curl up and clock out forever too - I'd be that grateful, honestly..."
Then came bewildered blinks. "Oh, right - phones are ringing. Does your head feel this echo-y after sex? Is my body undergoing a stroke without me noticing?"
He patted his own face, checking for signs of sagging facial features. Finding none, he went back to bewilderment and padded off to the cordless phone looking like a goofier and less dramatic take on a shell shock victim.
* * *
Naberius took a seat, not so much looking like Meris had summoned him - which she technically had - and more like he'd received a workplace memo about a meeting. As he sat down, however, his true self seemed to layer itself on top of his mortal body, the modern suit and tie bleeding back into the riding pants and late nineteenth-century blue morning jacket he'd initially affected, his Setter Spaniel ears morphing into his true form's more dingo-like ears, necktie traded for his white cravat and his mane of impeccably groomed head fur and odd mustache perched below his snout all reaffirming themselves. He pulled out a monocle from a front pocket, blew on it to dislodge a few specks of dirt and then crossed his legs together at the knees, exposing the top of a pair of spatterdashes. He pulled out a pocket watch, checked the time, and eyed the door they'd come through.
"Please, friends," he then added, "take a few seats! We've always kept a few extra for the occasional covert meeting with heads-of-state or various other personages of import - we don't have favorites per se."
He then canted his head in allowance. "Well. Agares and Samigina tend to pick one another's seats, jovial insults get tossed around - we needed centuries to understand what Agares meant when he said Sam was such a dimwit that his fleet's scullions would qualify for a Pulitzer before he would - but they'll know enough to avoid butting in if you happened to pick their behind's favorite resting place."
Spector and Haskill managed to sit down while looking the general picture of men who had a right to be here, while Eirean, Benson and George looked a bit more self-conscious.
A few moments later, an aging man's voice was heard in the distance, along with the slapping of soles on the stone floor.
"- no, I told you, Parker, we need to cover that angle sharper than anyone else! I want ears with the Hope Herald the moment the planes merge, comprende, kid?! Either we play this tighter than a nun's ass or the public opinion swerves on the three M's faster than you can say Fox Freaking News! We're past pussyfooting; I want men down in the Pit with recorders and cameras! I want every scrap of goodwill the portals are generating - I wanna see a Pitspawn moved to the point of tears with Hope's Municipal Council going in on some group-hug Avatar shit! Yes, Parker, I want you to go Sexy Blue Aliens on Hell's wretches, and I don't care how long it takes! The Pit needs to be a marketable brand starting yesterday, or else Hope is gonna shit hate crimes left and right! If I had a blood pressure to worry about, sport, you woulda done killed me with my having to explain everything to you!"
The voice paused, as the running, slapping footsteps grew closer. "Yes, I'm running, Parker, and yes I'm off to a meeting with the Big Cheese! Yes, she's one of the Three M's, check our Mnemonics guidelines on the server, for chrissakes! Meris, Magnus, McConmara! Meris, Magnus, McConmara! Lucifer's left fucking horn, Parker, don't make me regret your passively possessing Hunter S. Thompson for six years - that kinda training can't be bought anymore! Now it's all blogs and Joe Average yapping on his iPhone with no journalistic integrity!"
Another pause. "We're muckrakers, kid, but we're Solomon's muckrakers. Grab 'em by the balls, control the message, and you can steer the whole world to a brighter future. So yes, we're muckrakers with integrity, no matter how fucked-up that sounds to your puny mind, alright? I gotta go - you're driving me meshuggah with your intern-grade crap! Call HR if you'd rather we lobbed you back in Graphic Design's cavernous depths!"
The doors were then kicked open, as a medium-sized and aging man rushed in, arms laden with a faded messenger bag, a large manila folder bursting with hard-copy documents and a laptop's tote bag. He wore faded grey slacks and a rumbled white shirt, along with a black tie and unbuttoned charcoal vest that had clearly seen better days. He was decidedly on the hatchet-faced side of things, reptilian scales creeping over pale humanoid skin and covered by a long, white beard. His bifocals looked to be permanently askew and his eyes were an odd golden-brown shade, slitted vertically like a crocodile's. A wireless earpiece was rested against a crooked and pointed ear, its light blinking blue. His head covering was decidedly odd, looking like a bronze circlet from Antiquity crossed with a modern visor cap. He eyed the group as if he'd always known them - or was too busy to bother wish shock - and settled with wheezed and whispered Hiyas and a single, deeper nod towards Meris.
The man needed something close to two full minutes to unburden himself from what he'd carried over, sprawling his material on the table in a way that likely annoyed the other members of the Court. He then sat down, huffing out a long breath that suggested he didn't get much downtime.
"Oy, my aching back," he said, looking at nobody in particular. He then refocused on Meris. "Um - Your Highness? Hi. Agares, patron for liars and truth-makers. Pleased t'meetcha. We've got our own newsroom in a lil' pocket dimension from my office, but I'm usually warping between here and six or seven Editorial departments across the planet. Me and my guys, we're, uh, editorial slants made flesh and bone. We used to spread lies and dissent until Solomon wrangled us in and won us over with his project. We, um, basically astroturf printed news and the Web to silence hate and discord as much as possible. We're the little voices keeping the conservatives from blaming everything on mages or immigrants, and we know the enemy team's M.O. better than they do. I'd shake your hand, but I'm covered in about six different kinds of toner ink and I last showered six time zones ago."
-
TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights
Aislinn's mouth had partly gaped upon seeing the transformation of his heart. It no longer resembled the burning furnace associated with Asmodeus' ilk. Returning from an experience like that one was obviously make everything feel surreal. Honestly, the whole Immortal revelation seemed hard to believe, except that she did feel more energetic and clear-headed, despite the tiring aspect of shifting so much energy from the Centennial Tree, through the tower, and into the bedroom. Not to mention, a blackout that didn't originate from mundane power failure was sure to raise some eyebrows.
She looked down at her body and thought it didn't look much different than when they had started. She pawed the right side of her neck where Tom's alter had left a now purplish hickey. With the new power she had, it wouldn't be long before it was back to its normal paleness, but wearing a shirt with a high neckline or camouflaging it probably wouldn't hurt. Ritual sex or not, she knew that a shower would be in short order.
Her own phone had been ringing, the "Danse Macabre" ringtone jauntily reaching her ears. She picked it up and was surprised to see a text from Sophia.
Hi, next time tell me when you're planning a large-scale, life magic ritual, Aislinn! That much via leaving the Tree nearly gave me a heart attack, if I could have one! it snippily chided her, before continuing on in a more sincere tone. Congratulations on your success; I'm very happy for you both and glad that you're safe.
Aislinn let out a little scoff mixed with a chuckle and ventured to where Tom had gone to pick up the cordless phone.
***
Noting his warning about his ink-stained hands, Meris settled with a polite nod. "Hello, Agares. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
She then recalled back to the trio of mnemonic-sounding headlines and asked tenatively, "I take you're here to inform me on what will happen in the soon-to-be headlines?" she asked. "Magnus and McConmara, I'm assuming those two have to do with the Heiros Gamos ritual Aislinn and Tom were planning to do? I hope they're safe? And my name obviously refers to my appearance before Oberon and Titania..."
She looked down at her body and thought it didn't look much different than when they had started. She pawed the right side of her neck where Tom's alter had left a now purplish hickey. With the new power she had, it wouldn't be long before it was back to its normal paleness, but wearing a shirt with a high neckline or camouflaging it probably wouldn't hurt. Ritual sex or not, she knew that a shower would be in short order.
Her own phone had been ringing, the "Danse Macabre" ringtone jauntily reaching her ears. She picked it up and was surprised to see a text from Sophia.
Hi, next time tell me when you're planning a large-scale, life magic ritual, Aislinn! That much via leaving the Tree nearly gave me a heart attack, if I could have one! it snippily chided her, before continuing on in a more sincere tone. Congratulations on your success; I'm very happy for you both and glad that you're safe.
Aislinn let out a little scoff mixed with a chuckle and ventured to where Tom had gone to pick up the cordless phone.
***
Noting his warning about his ink-stained hands, Meris settled with a polite nod. "Hello, Agares. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
She then recalled back to the trio of mnemonic-sounding headlines and asked tenatively, "I take you're here to inform me on what will happen in the soon-to-be headlines?" she asked. "Magnus and McConmara, I'm assuming those two have to do with the Heiros Gamos ritual Aislinn and Tom were planning to do? I hope they're safe? And my name obviously refers to my appearance before Oberon and Titania..."
-
IamLEAM1983
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- Location: Quebec, Canada
Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights
Tom's side of the conversation seemed rather small. Aislinn would hear the other side of the line pop not with excess arcane potential, but from the low frequencies being pushed through the receiver's small speakers. The person on the other end sounded like a Norwegian Black Metal singer knee-deep in a series of guttural roars and snarls - more or less fury made aurally manifest.
"Paimon, I-"
More roars, followed by popping sounds - and then by a fire alarm sounding somewhere down below. Sighing, Tom hung up and stared at the phone for a few seconds. As he'd perhaps expected, it rang again. This time, he placed the call on speakerphone.
"Sariel," he asked, his tone sarcastically jaunty, "how goes it?
- I don't mean to be a pest, but it's more than a little hard to sleep when Pride's former Duke throws a temper tantrum because his enabler and employer's ritual caused a blackout.
- I don't follow," he said. "What's the issue?"
Sariel sighed. "I overstepped my bounds on a clinical and professional level and tried to bond with him. I wanted him to focus on something other than his ego, to maybe close the afternoon on a high note. So, I showed him some of the local specialized TV channels. I stopped on Forensic TV - you know, 24-hour CSI marathons, Murdoch Mysteries, the old Granada Sherlock Holmes miniseries... I didn't expect him to get engaged in CSI: Miami so quickly. I thought he'd need proper introductions, first. American culture, police procedures in the mortal plane and so on..."
Tom nodded slowly. "I see. Ais and I's ritual threw a wrench in that, I assume.
- Not that much, but he's hobbled himself fairly adequately, and he's just racked up a few thousand dollars in damages for his loaner unit. The living room's rear wall is seared right down to the insulation. He's also turned his phone into melted slag, but I gather you've heard that."
The warthog sighed. "It's, uh - it's fine. I don't have it in me to be angry for the moment. Set Paimon up in one of the other units on the same floor; I'll need a few days to come up with a way to sublimate his breath's chemical compounds on an arcane level...
- Then he'll just wheeze napalm-scented halitosis in other people's faces when angry. I think we're better off with more behavioral training."
The warthog grunted. "We'll do both. I just can't be bothered, right now. I've, uh, got a lot of reassessment and processing to handle.
- I'm sure you do," replied the Seducer, sounding slightly contrite, then perking up slightly again. "So, how's it feel?"
The Warlock looked at his lover. "I don't think I can describe it. I've changed fundamentally and so has Aislinn - but we're also exactly the same as before. Well, apart for my eyes. I've got whites, now."
Sariel having normal eyes, she sounded a bit nonplussed, if still glad for her friend. "That's, erm - that's great! I'm so happy for you, Tom!"
* * *
Agares nodded in the so-so gesture. "I'm sure you're familiar with Vassago - fella gives us intel on a coupla hundred branching paths at once, which means I gotta work on a coupla dozen simultaneous and contradicting headlines. In any case..."
He clicked through a few file folders and then rotated his laptop so Meris could see. "That's our target RSS feed for next month," he said, headlines slowly scrolling. "The planes merged safely, our minimal-casualties scenario made manifest, the Vienna Council in its first big tizzy since its inception, and some of your relatives and colleagues at the center of it all."
He then thumbed his laptop's touchscreen, a headline reading "HOLDEN HALL HAS A NEW PRODIGY!" overlaid with a green check-mark and sliding off-screen. "That one's a done deal. Spoiler alert: you've got another Archmage in the family as of our speaking. The Hope Herald's gonna put its own spin on things - all we ever do is subconsciously try and make juicy headlines look even juicier - but that's Pandemonium's editorial on the topic, written by yours truly," Agares said, flashing a grin.
Two more headlines remained, flashing onscreen even as a pale question mark lay under the text's design layer. The first one read "THE SPRING COALLITION", while the second one dramatically asked "IS QUINT REBORN?"
"Now, these two are in the higher stages of quantum flux," he said, his hand wavering as if to express uncertainty. "They're not low-order possibilities or cockamamie guesses anymore - they're hard, statistically unavoidable near-truths. We know the King and Queen sign off on your meeting even before it's happened, and we know what pushes them to accept Haskill's Lordship."
Eirean quirked an eyebrow. "Color me skeptical...
- Smart girl," replied Agares, smirking in a somewhat wolfish manner. "I can't give you specifics, but what I do know is the Queen's going to put two and two together, and she'll do it in a way that has her realize she misjudged another threat. A smaller one, something Milord here won't have any trouble handling in time for the bigger troubles."
Now Vernon looked interested. "What is it?
- You've been a hard sell to the Royals, mister Haskill. They've appointed you out of duty and convenience, expecting Shield or Meris here to do away with you if your House's more ebullient nature had you slide in line with Mab. They think you're a plant... and so does mister Spector."
William's previously invisible mouth slightly tore open again. "I'd like to see your sources.
- Of course you would," snidely replied the Editor-in-Chief. "What matters is you're wrong. Haskill claiming Lordship will draw out the plant. Your only leads involved Haskill funding Karthian research in some of the same fields as Phineas Sharpe and organizing his foundation as a sort of Eldritch Manhattan Project - made up from expats off of the rival team. He's had his Einsteins and his Werner Von Brauns, so you think he's a Nazi. Metaphorically speaking."
Agares gave Spector a level gaze. "Your research team isn't worth diddly squat. The drones do their work like drones do, but your department is leaking brainpower. You and I both know that if a local Summer gal can go Dixie, so can a few good ol' boys turn a leaf."
Benson narrowed his eyes and sniffed. "So who's the terrorist?
- Not your Mayhew guy for sure," replied the scaly humanoid, "and also not the Winter Regent during the interregnum."
He grinned. "Sucks, right? That one would've been nice and predictable.
- And the Queen is somehow going to divine my lack of involvement in this," replied Haskill, who sounded incredulous.
The muckraker chuckled. "You forget what wearing that million-year-old crown does to a gal," he said. "All the wisdom, all the sage nature of the best of Humanity's history, all of it smooshed down to fit in the heart of a little English girl with the right parentage. If Titania got out and worked with Scotland Yard, we'd have found out who Jack the Ripper was for sure. Helps that you're head over heels for Missus Riverdance, over here."
McHale smirked ruefully. "That beard looks fake, Agares. I've a mind to stand up and tug on it. Hard."
Agares hesitated and then smiled sheepishly. "That... won't be necessary, your Ladyship, ehehe..."
"Paimon, I-"
More roars, followed by popping sounds - and then by a fire alarm sounding somewhere down below. Sighing, Tom hung up and stared at the phone for a few seconds. As he'd perhaps expected, it rang again. This time, he placed the call on speakerphone.
"Sariel," he asked, his tone sarcastically jaunty, "how goes it?
- I don't mean to be a pest, but it's more than a little hard to sleep when Pride's former Duke throws a temper tantrum because his enabler and employer's ritual caused a blackout.
- I don't follow," he said. "What's the issue?"
Sariel sighed. "I overstepped my bounds on a clinical and professional level and tried to bond with him. I wanted him to focus on something other than his ego, to maybe close the afternoon on a high note. So, I showed him some of the local specialized TV channels. I stopped on Forensic TV - you know, 24-hour CSI marathons, Murdoch Mysteries, the old Granada Sherlock Holmes miniseries... I didn't expect him to get engaged in CSI: Miami so quickly. I thought he'd need proper introductions, first. American culture, police procedures in the mortal plane and so on..."
Tom nodded slowly. "I see. Ais and I's ritual threw a wrench in that, I assume.
- Not that much, but he's hobbled himself fairly adequately, and he's just racked up a few thousand dollars in damages for his loaner unit. The living room's rear wall is seared right down to the insulation. He's also turned his phone into melted slag, but I gather you've heard that."
The warthog sighed. "It's, uh - it's fine. I don't have it in me to be angry for the moment. Set Paimon up in one of the other units on the same floor; I'll need a few days to come up with a way to sublimate his breath's chemical compounds on an arcane level...
- Then he'll just wheeze napalm-scented halitosis in other people's faces when angry. I think we're better off with more behavioral training."
The warthog grunted. "We'll do both. I just can't be bothered, right now. I've, uh, got a lot of reassessment and processing to handle.
- I'm sure you do," replied the Seducer, sounding slightly contrite, then perking up slightly again. "So, how's it feel?"
The Warlock looked at his lover. "I don't think I can describe it. I've changed fundamentally and so has Aislinn - but we're also exactly the same as before. Well, apart for my eyes. I've got whites, now."
Sariel having normal eyes, she sounded a bit nonplussed, if still glad for her friend. "That's, erm - that's great! I'm so happy for you, Tom!"
* * *
Agares nodded in the so-so gesture. "I'm sure you're familiar with Vassago - fella gives us intel on a coupla hundred branching paths at once, which means I gotta work on a coupla dozen simultaneous and contradicting headlines. In any case..."
He clicked through a few file folders and then rotated his laptop so Meris could see. "That's our target RSS feed for next month," he said, headlines slowly scrolling. "The planes merged safely, our minimal-casualties scenario made manifest, the Vienna Council in its first big tizzy since its inception, and some of your relatives and colleagues at the center of it all."
He then thumbed his laptop's touchscreen, a headline reading "HOLDEN HALL HAS A NEW PRODIGY!" overlaid with a green check-mark and sliding off-screen. "That one's a done deal. Spoiler alert: you've got another Archmage in the family as of our speaking. The Hope Herald's gonna put its own spin on things - all we ever do is subconsciously try and make juicy headlines look even juicier - but that's Pandemonium's editorial on the topic, written by yours truly," Agares said, flashing a grin.
Two more headlines remained, flashing onscreen even as a pale question mark lay under the text's design layer. The first one read "THE SPRING COALLITION", while the second one dramatically asked "IS QUINT REBORN?"
"Now, these two are in the higher stages of quantum flux," he said, his hand wavering as if to express uncertainty. "They're not low-order possibilities or cockamamie guesses anymore - they're hard, statistically unavoidable near-truths. We know the King and Queen sign off on your meeting even before it's happened, and we know what pushes them to accept Haskill's Lordship."
Eirean quirked an eyebrow. "Color me skeptical...
- Smart girl," replied Agares, smirking in a somewhat wolfish manner. "I can't give you specifics, but what I do know is the Queen's going to put two and two together, and she'll do it in a way that has her realize she misjudged another threat. A smaller one, something Milord here won't have any trouble handling in time for the bigger troubles."
Now Vernon looked interested. "What is it?
- You've been a hard sell to the Royals, mister Haskill. They've appointed you out of duty and convenience, expecting Shield or Meris here to do away with you if your House's more ebullient nature had you slide in line with Mab. They think you're a plant... and so does mister Spector."
William's previously invisible mouth slightly tore open again. "I'd like to see your sources.
- Of course you would," snidely replied the Editor-in-Chief. "What matters is you're wrong. Haskill claiming Lordship will draw out the plant. Your only leads involved Haskill funding Karthian research in some of the same fields as Phineas Sharpe and organizing his foundation as a sort of Eldritch Manhattan Project - made up from expats off of the rival team. He's had his Einsteins and his Werner Von Brauns, so you think he's a Nazi. Metaphorically speaking."
Agares gave Spector a level gaze. "Your research team isn't worth diddly squat. The drones do their work like drones do, but your department is leaking brainpower. You and I both know that if a local Summer gal can go Dixie, so can a few good ol' boys turn a leaf."
Benson narrowed his eyes and sniffed. "So who's the terrorist?
- Not your Mayhew guy for sure," replied the scaly humanoid, "and also not the Winter Regent during the interregnum."
He grinned. "Sucks, right? That one would've been nice and predictable.
- And the Queen is somehow going to divine my lack of involvement in this," replied Haskill, who sounded incredulous.
The muckraker chuckled. "You forget what wearing that million-year-old crown does to a gal," he said. "All the wisdom, all the sage nature of the best of Humanity's history, all of it smooshed down to fit in the heart of a little English girl with the right parentage. If Titania got out and worked with Scotland Yard, we'd have found out who Jack the Ripper was for sure. Helps that you're head over heels for Missus Riverdance, over here."
McHale smirked ruefully. "That beard looks fake, Agares. I've a mind to stand up and tug on it. Hard."
Agares hesitated and then smiled sheepishly. "That... won't be necessary, your Ladyship, ehehe..."
-
TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights
Meris smirked lightly at the banter between Agares and Eirean, but she then returned to a thoughtful state as turned her eyes toward Haskill and speculated,"If that headline is anything to go on, the terrorist might be from Spring, so it's someone you wouldn't likely expect to have much interest in local politics. However, if your gaining Lordship brings them out of the woodwork, it might be possible it's someone right under your nose. The attacker that assaulted you, the Countess, and Mayhew was probably just a hopeful diversion for the real culprit."
Her gaze then drifted to Agares. "If the Queen will be able to discern Mr. Haskill's lack of involvement, how is our audience with Their Majesties supposed to guide Titania to that revelation?" she asked.
***
Aislinn smiled slightly in amusement. "I have to agree that words can't fully describe what's transpired, Sariel. Though, with Tom's description of his eyes, I'd have to say he's...whole. Even his voice is slightly different. He and his Id are one, and that brings a level of clarity that I think even Quint in his later years didn't have. Tom does, even if all that clarity is leaving him somewhat foggy-headed. And that's simply because no incubus or succubus has experienced this before."
"As for myself, I feel both alert and tired. I feel like I have more energy, but that's a given considering I came in contact with the local Nexus. However, I feel the same."
Her gaze then drifted to Agares. "If the Queen will be able to discern Mr. Haskill's lack of involvement, how is our audience with Their Majesties supposed to guide Titania to that revelation?" she asked.
***
Aislinn smiled slightly in amusement. "I have to agree that words can't fully describe what's transpired, Sariel. Though, with Tom's description of his eyes, I'd have to say he's...whole. Even his voice is slightly different. He and his Id are one, and that brings a level of clarity that I think even Quint in his later years didn't have. Tom does, even if all that clarity is leaving him somewhat foggy-headed. And that's simply because no incubus or succubus has experienced this before."
"As for myself, I feel both alert and tired. I feel like I have more energy, but that's a given considering I came in contact with the local Nexus. However, I feel the same."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights
Agares shrugged. "That, I don't know. I deal in information, not romance. That's why I stopped and prodded Amduscias on his way over, he always shows up late to these things..."
A few moments later, the sharp raps of booted feet were heard, followed by the doors sedately opening. The man that walked in was another mostly human-looking demon, if you'd crossed Iggy Pop with Keith Richards and added a dash of Ozzy Osbourne to the mix. He looked a bit like a more weather-worn and black-tinged Labyrinth-era David Bowie, but that didn't stop him from displaying a certain Junkie Chic thinness and a rather obscenely tight pair of black leather pants. A faintly Medieval black and charcoal shirt covered his torso, along with a long and black leather frock coat. Fingerless gloves covered his hands, and his head of hair would've given the eighties' young and hearty version of Robert Smith some rather serious conniptions. The only outward indications of his demonic nature were his eyes, which were uniformly black behind the sort of pair of round eyeglasses John Lennon would've probably worn.
Spotting Meris, he smiled roguishly, fluidly took a few steps closer and then partially mimed looking for something in his coat. A tiny arcane flourish later, a red rose waited between two fingernails he'd also covered in black nail polish. Or was it nail polish? Something to his fingernails' texture made it seem like they'd always grown black.
Bowing slightly, he offered the rose to Meris.
"'Ello, Queenie," he said, his tone fittingly Mancunian. "Amduscias at your service; Asmodeus' former King of Hearts. I teach mortals in the art o' Song whenever I'm not helping disconnected gits like Agares here understand the finer points of mortal nature. I seeded the path for Cantors and Seraphic Magic 'long with Uriel, until the guy figured I'd gotten too close to my pupils. I was Asmoday's Beta phase o' sorts - a test before he'd settle on the ruthlessly productive path offered by incubi and succubi."
His smile was sharkish as he took Meris' hand to kiss it. "I deal in beauty an' lusciousness, Milady. My, oh, billion or so little cousins from Lust's corner? They deal in flat, gray flesh. All except one, now - and he does me proud, 'e does... Centuries of work and dangerous collusion with the Cathars and the Athenians and early Phoenecians before 'em, all so someone would stumble on my cheat sheet to a lust-free diet."
Agares blanched at that. "Why wasn't my department informed, Amduscias?!
- 'Cause it wasn't ready," replied the former Lust demon as he blithely sat down and rested his feet on the table. "I couldn't serve Solomon and go through all the hardships needed for the formula to be tempered at the same time. I had to hope an incubus or succubus would eventually decide the struggle was all worthwhile and might reach the right partners and mental state. Plus, lust was never my burden, Agares. Back then, Asmodeus was stupid enough to think that someone with willful control over their supernatural libido would just fall in line and stuff him to the gills."
The Editor-in-Chief blinked. "Is that why we never...?
- Naw," replied the King of Hearts, dismissively waving the matter. "Bein' free means havin' ethics, me boy. Ask Nabby over here - we've had opportunities, but I don't like to date on the payroll. As much as I liked our first boss, all Nabs ever talks about when he's around is Solomon this and Solomon that... You're sweet, Agares, but you're too overworked for me."
He winked at the attendants. "Ask our Queen, here - and her friends. Real relationships last. Workplace flings? Eh - sometimes, but not always. Weren't the courtroom hours that made Meris and Nereus work - was all the hush-hush business that followed that lit that fire."
Amduscias then raised his finger. "Fire's exactly what's gonna do the trick for Titania. Her husband's gonna need more overt convincing, but she'll side with you as soon as it's clear you'd do anything for Hope, since it's where the latest troubles began. The Dixies decided it'd be the new nexus for their attacks and political maneuvering, so our side needs someone to push back.
- But I'm here in London," protested Vernon. "How can I do anything significant from here?"
The rock star-looking demon clicked his tongue. "You've already done it. Mayhew."
* * *
"I think you'd know if things hadn't panned out," wryly observed the Seducer. "We're not hearing you scream from three floors over, so I think that rules out the local Skull and Crossbones club getting a new member."
She then paused. "I'd be careful, especially over the next few hours. Some people like to invite themselves over, riding on the leftovers of most rituals. With two active portals a floor below you, I'd maybe postpone any further cuddling urges and focus on being presentable again. That, as well as battle-ready."
Sariel hesitated, as she obviously didn't like reducing Tom and Aislinn's moment to its immediate aftermath. "Be careful. If anything marches through to the club and manages to work through the both of you, everything you've worked for will be destroyed."
A few moments later, the sharp raps of booted feet were heard, followed by the doors sedately opening. The man that walked in was another mostly human-looking demon, if you'd crossed Iggy Pop with Keith Richards and added a dash of Ozzy Osbourne to the mix. He looked a bit like a more weather-worn and black-tinged Labyrinth-era David Bowie, but that didn't stop him from displaying a certain Junkie Chic thinness and a rather obscenely tight pair of black leather pants. A faintly Medieval black and charcoal shirt covered his torso, along with a long and black leather frock coat. Fingerless gloves covered his hands, and his head of hair would've given the eighties' young and hearty version of Robert Smith some rather serious conniptions. The only outward indications of his demonic nature were his eyes, which were uniformly black behind the sort of pair of round eyeglasses John Lennon would've probably worn.
Spotting Meris, he smiled roguishly, fluidly took a few steps closer and then partially mimed looking for something in his coat. A tiny arcane flourish later, a red rose waited between two fingernails he'd also covered in black nail polish. Or was it nail polish? Something to his fingernails' texture made it seem like they'd always grown black.
Bowing slightly, he offered the rose to Meris.
"'Ello, Queenie," he said, his tone fittingly Mancunian. "Amduscias at your service; Asmodeus' former King of Hearts. I teach mortals in the art o' Song whenever I'm not helping disconnected gits like Agares here understand the finer points of mortal nature. I seeded the path for Cantors and Seraphic Magic 'long with Uriel, until the guy figured I'd gotten too close to my pupils. I was Asmoday's Beta phase o' sorts - a test before he'd settle on the ruthlessly productive path offered by incubi and succubi."
His smile was sharkish as he took Meris' hand to kiss it. "I deal in beauty an' lusciousness, Milady. My, oh, billion or so little cousins from Lust's corner? They deal in flat, gray flesh. All except one, now - and he does me proud, 'e does... Centuries of work and dangerous collusion with the Cathars and the Athenians and early Phoenecians before 'em, all so someone would stumble on my cheat sheet to a lust-free diet."
Agares blanched at that. "Why wasn't my department informed, Amduscias?!
- 'Cause it wasn't ready," replied the former Lust demon as he blithely sat down and rested his feet on the table. "I couldn't serve Solomon and go through all the hardships needed for the formula to be tempered at the same time. I had to hope an incubus or succubus would eventually decide the struggle was all worthwhile and might reach the right partners and mental state. Plus, lust was never my burden, Agares. Back then, Asmodeus was stupid enough to think that someone with willful control over their supernatural libido would just fall in line and stuff him to the gills."
The Editor-in-Chief blinked. "Is that why we never...?
- Naw," replied the King of Hearts, dismissively waving the matter. "Bein' free means havin' ethics, me boy. Ask Nabby over here - we've had opportunities, but I don't like to date on the payroll. As much as I liked our first boss, all Nabs ever talks about when he's around is Solomon this and Solomon that... You're sweet, Agares, but you're too overworked for me."
He winked at the attendants. "Ask our Queen, here - and her friends. Real relationships last. Workplace flings? Eh - sometimes, but not always. Weren't the courtroom hours that made Meris and Nereus work - was all the hush-hush business that followed that lit that fire."
Amduscias then raised his finger. "Fire's exactly what's gonna do the trick for Titania. Her husband's gonna need more overt convincing, but she'll side with you as soon as it's clear you'd do anything for Hope, since it's where the latest troubles began. The Dixies decided it'd be the new nexus for their attacks and political maneuvering, so our side needs someone to push back.
- But I'm here in London," protested Vernon. "How can I do anything significant from here?"
The rock star-looking demon clicked his tongue. "You've already done it. Mayhew."
* * *
"I think you'd know if things hadn't panned out," wryly observed the Seducer. "We're not hearing you scream from three floors over, so I think that rules out the local Skull and Crossbones club getting a new member."
She then paused. "I'd be careful, especially over the next few hours. Some people like to invite themselves over, riding on the leftovers of most rituals. With two active portals a floor below you, I'd maybe postpone any further cuddling urges and focus on being presentable again. That, as well as battle-ready."
Sariel hesitated, as she obviously didn't like reducing Tom and Aislinn's moment to its immediate aftermath. "Be careful. If anything marches through to the club and manages to work through the both of you, everything you've worked for will be destroyed."
-
TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights
The Heiress smirked in amusement at the kiss on her hand from the former King of Hearts. "I'm pleased to meet you, Amduscias. It's belated, but thank you for devising that ritual. I'm sure Tom and Aislinn would be deeply grateful, if they were here."
Meris immediately understood Amduscias' point and conveyed her thoughts to the Haskill. "Compassion. That's how you'll win Titania over. During the assault, you gave Mayhew his new Mantle and are helping to get through his mobility issues. From what I know of Mab, she treats those beneath her as pawns. I recall Sophia telling me about the dryad Circe who was recovered from Frosthall after being strangled by Chambers."
"That's the fire Amduscias is referring to, the fire in Winter's Hearth. That's your strength, and you need to have that evident to them both," she stated.
* * *
"I'd thought about getting a shower and getting dressed, actually. Even with everything that went on, it still seems kind of early to sleep. However, with what you've told me, I think that's the best thing for us to do now. The ritual's over, but we need to clear our heads and bodies of all the conjugal stuff," Aislinn mused.
She paused and then said determinedly, "I'm not letting anybody ruin all the hard work we've done. If someone comes looking for trouble, I'll be here to defend and fight."
Meris immediately understood Amduscias' point and conveyed her thoughts to the Haskill. "Compassion. That's how you'll win Titania over. During the assault, you gave Mayhew his new Mantle and are helping to get through his mobility issues. From what I know of Mab, she treats those beneath her as pawns. I recall Sophia telling me about the dryad Circe who was recovered from Frosthall after being strangled by Chambers."
"That's the fire Amduscias is referring to, the fire in Winter's Hearth. That's your strength, and you need to have that evident to them both," she stated.
* * *
"I'd thought about getting a shower and getting dressed, actually. Even with everything that went on, it still seems kind of early to sleep. However, with what you've told me, I think that's the best thing for us to do now. The ritual's over, but we need to clear our heads and bodies of all the conjugal stuff," Aislinn mused.
She paused and then said determinedly, "I'm not letting anybody ruin all the hard work we've done. If someone comes looking for trouble, I'll be here to defend and fight."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter IV - Earthly Delights
Amduscias smiled, the gesture liquid. "Mm. Compassion's one o' the nice byproducts of what I used to work with, back when Asmo made some sort of sense. It's a nice, strong glue, it is - and it's gonna shake things up with Hope's Fae folk. Not necessarily in a good way. Good turns deserve another - and they always get a backlash. Compassion, meet passion."
He gestured. "Or, well, in this case, someone else's passion for a cause they see as worthy."
Vernon nodded. "Our King and Queen have never needed to use overt repression, but the Seasons crossing and Mayhew being what amounts to a Knight of Spring will be seen by many as being heretical. Eirean and I will be asked to condemn what we created."
The King of Hearts sniffed disdainfully. "So? You're soddin' aristocrats, for God's sake; feckin' lead the charge! The progressives'll go along and the rest... They'll have to either follow along or end up in History's annals as the losers. Can't ever please everyone at once - and our boss-man's worked his magic for six generations, tryin' to do exactly that. He did a lot o' things right, that Solomon, but our bein' here comes after the kinda sacrifices you don't see Disney's take on Merlin savvying."
Agares dug into his pants' pockets as his phone vibrated. "Sorry - I've got Vassago and my Chief of Staff on text. They say you gotta do it. The numbers look good, they say. You'll lose some to the Sharpies at the onset, but you'll find serious support in the mundane, metahuman and supernatural crowds. Definitive plusses from the Vienna Council. Vassago says that, plus a cross-clan marriage, would eventually culminate into more of a structured collaboration with the mundanes, in the wake of the planar merger.
- We've got hardcore arcane nationalists," warned Eirean.
To that, Benson shrugged. "So does every culture. If Hell comes around and the planes merge, we'll have bigger fish to fry than figuring out which Clan's got the biggest pair. The Fae were always proud and that won't change - we'll just start taking cues from the mundanes and maybe realize that you can represent Winter without needing to drag Summer down."
Spector seemed unconvinced. "From the smart mundanes, you mean. I've spent decades in the Hearth's warmth and I still haven't found signs that I could do my job without a Veil. I've bumped into other Drakes and other McConmaras, but the rule is people who can't, wouldn't and couldn't possibly understand how Oberon could want to rehabilitate someone like me."
* * *
"That'd be best," concurred Sariel.
In the background, Paimon could be heard grunting and kicking what probably amounted to his phone and TV set's slagged debris. "Can the spirit box be fixed?" he asked. "Seducer, tell the Warlock that my ire was worthy of a field commander to his general! If promotions are in order, I would recommend myself!"
The Seducer sighed. "I think I need to nix standard psychotherapy approaches for a while longer - I might need to steal a page from you two someday and go on a deep dive in our head bouncer's psyche... Benedict and I are planning on leaving you largely be for a few days, so you can both readjust. I'll help them explore the tower and the rest of the city."
He gestured. "Or, well, in this case, someone else's passion for a cause they see as worthy."
Vernon nodded. "Our King and Queen have never needed to use overt repression, but the Seasons crossing and Mayhew being what amounts to a Knight of Spring will be seen by many as being heretical. Eirean and I will be asked to condemn what we created."
The King of Hearts sniffed disdainfully. "So? You're soddin' aristocrats, for God's sake; feckin' lead the charge! The progressives'll go along and the rest... They'll have to either follow along or end up in History's annals as the losers. Can't ever please everyone at once - and our boss-man's worked his magic for six generations, tryin' to do exactly that. He did a lot o' things right, that Solomon, but our bein' here comes after the kinda sacrifices you don't see Disney's take on Merlin savvying."
Agares dug into his pants' pockets as his phone vibrated. "Sorry - I've got Vassago and my Chief of Staff on text. They say you gotta do it. The numbers look good, they say. You'll lose some to the Sharpies at the onset, but you'll find serious support in the mundane, metahuman and supernatural crowds. Definitive plusses from the Vienna Council. Vassago says that, plus a cross-clan marriage, would eventually culminate into more of a structured collaboration with the mundanes, in the wake of the planar merger.
- We've got hardcore arcane nationalists," warned Eirean.
To that, Benson shrugged. "So does every culture. If Hell comes around and the planes merge, we'll have bigger fish to fry than figuring out which Clan's got the biggest pair. The Fae were always proud and that won't change - we'll just start taking cues from the mundanes and maybe realize that you can represent Winter without needing to drag Summer down."
Spector seemed unconvinced. "From the smart mundanes, you mean. I've spent decades in the Hearth's warmth and I still haven't found signs that I could do my job without a Veil. I've bumped into other Drakes and other McConmaras, but the rule is people who can't, wouldn't and couldn't possibly understand how Oberon could want to rehabilitate someone like me."
* * *
"That'd be best," concurred Sariel.
In the background, Paimon could be heard grunting and kicking what probably amounted to his phone and TV set's slagged debris. "Can the spirit box be fixed?" he asked. "Seducer, tell the Warlock that my ire was worthy of a field commander to his general! If promotions are in order, I would recommend myself!"
The Seducer sighed. "I think I need to nix standard psychotherapy approaches for a while longer - I might need to steal a page from you two someday and go on a deep dive in our head bouncer's psyche... Benedict and I are planning on leaving you largely be for a few days, so you can both readjust. I'll help them explore the tower and the rest of the city."