"Young Madam!" The demon gleamed down from higher branches above the wooden homes and bridges, seemingly made himself at home there. The full moon that night provided sight, regardless of the speckled spots due to tree-leaves. Nonetheless, having his identity compromised deterred the demon naught as he sought to continue his conversation.
"I just knew we would meet again, miss. How are you faring? Have you been promoted? Err, no, that was there, not here, wasn't it. Ah, well! We never did get to finish our lovely talk, so! It was about the universes being linked, somehow, and I must say, your other self recalled a bit about you. Now, do you remember?"
Crazy ramblings, for sure. And from an intruder, no doubt. Yet it was all spoken with unrivaled confidence; some sort of truth in his words.
Besides-- what sort of demon with the status as a marquess would bother themselves going to Lalonia? It was a notable task for basic demons, hardly above imps-- well below himself.
Then again, Flauros could've guessed Amy wouldn't know anything about life in the Abyss. It didn't deter his smile, though, nor did it slow the swinging of his legs atop branches, waiting for their philosophical talks to resume.
If she could read anything from his aura, she should at least comprehend that his threat there was so great it threatened life on the entire mountain itself. So, perhaps she should comply, yes?
The night was quiet, and Amy had elected for a nighttime tea to calm the nerves. They had not come again and so she was alone. The weight of rejection and loss is a force so debilitating that it was often enough to cause her distortions in thought. For Amy, these distortions could manifest themselves in her vision as well. When this sort of thing happened, it was important to practice appropriate self-care techniques and for her right now, that obviously meant tea despite the hour. She gazed at the mountains themselves, crumbling down as the wails and cries of innocents crushed by the rocks below tormented her as if begging to her specifically to save them. Grant them one last chance at life. She would respond in turn: There is only one thing in every world that was ever worth loving. Thanatos, son of Nyx. Returning their souls to him. Feeding them back to Zero.
As she took her first sip of tea, a deep sigh of relief overtook her and the cries became distant, indistinguishable.
And maybe she would've thought nothing more of it until he revealed himself from above. She looked all around, but could not quite place the source of his form. A demon. A real demon. what was something like that doing here?
"Young Sir!" She mocked his tone. "I don't have a fucking clue who you are! But...sure, let us 'resume' our talk. Would you like some tea?" She could not deny the familiarity of the voice, but she would need to proceed with caution. Her knowledge of the universe was something she had believed to be exclusive to her. Until now. Could he really know anything about her? That was impossible, right? Amy Faye was a liar and a cheat; the only person she never lied to... "I'm afraid I do not recall anything you speak of. I was just sitting here enjoying my tea when an unfamiliar someone dropped upon me. Maybe you can help jog my memory? Were we childhood friends or something?"
She would begin to pour him a cup of tea if he were to accept.
He let the question sit for a moment without reply, nor stir. To pick apart his other travels, to consider her cohorts who might've fit the description she sought.
Down from the branches he fluttered, the demon landing light and graceful atop wooden planks. Flauros then gave her a proper bow, fitting that of his peers-- considering he saw her as such.
"Tea at this time of night? I'll oblige, my lady." Rising from his bow, he'd slipped a hand into his coat-pocket and pulled out a vial. Its contents were liquid, yet its color uncertain by the mix of moonlight overhead and a few candles about. Regardless, it was dumped into his cup as he also pulled out a spoon for himself, stirring it into the drink she'd been so kind as to provide for him. He took it upon himself to sit at the other end of the rounded table, crossing a leg over as he smirked.
Pinching the glass's handle, he lifted the cup to bring to his nose before taking a sip. "I don't believe I ever gave you my name. You may call me Abigor, if you'd like. Sincerest apologies for not being able to give you my name in full." While he took another sip, he gave a small wink at her. Only then did his gaze remain on the woman he so suddenly sought out. "Now, it's been some months, but I believe our last conversation involved some sort of hellfire, if that." He nodded to himself, clearing his throat as he set back down the cup.
"But I can't remember it too well now and there's no reference back to it, so! I'll ask your opinion instead, my lady. The implications of Here and There. As There no longer exists, and only remnants of Here remain: Do you think each muse is affected when those calamities occur, erasing them completely? Do they feel it, or is their consciousness transferred, somehow, given the connection? I suppose I know at least one good reference here to get answers, if you're also curious, but I'd love to hear your theories on the matter. Or if you have other topics of interest; indulge me." Crimson irises filled with intrigue, glowing as the nightlife quieted. It was as if they were in a bubble of their own, free to have the conversation at will and without prying ears around them.
"Abigor?" Amy paused and her eyes widened. The steam of the tea warmed her face as she started at it clearly recognizing the name. Someone she knew had had her eyes on this Abigor for some time now. It was a wonder how he had ended up on her doorstep instead.
...No, this was a good thing. They had met before. Somewhere else. And she was not yet dead. Her confidence was restored in an instant, and she gripped the handle of her teacup firmly with her finger. So they had met in a hellfire? It must've been at the end, then. It always ends in fire; there is no place in which it didn't.
"Oh, I haven't given it much thought," she lied plainly. "Maybe we end when the calamity begins. A more spiritual side of me suspects life after death, but...I am not so sure." She nodded to herself and would wait to see if he could call her bluff before continuing further with the subject. She had been prudent in avoiding eye contact with him since hearing that name.
Abigor.
She hears his name in Elizabeth's voice even as it comes straight from his mouth.
He would be the only one who could potentially see Amy's soul if he looked. What would he see, she wondered? The special vision she thought only she had suddenly felt commonplace and despite the solidarity and relief that might bring, it was as much a threat as it was a boon for her. Anyone who knew she wasn't just Amy Faye was an enemy. Plain and simple. It was doubtful his eyes were the exact same as hers, but could she really risk looking into them now? Maybe she ought to entertain him and see where things could go.
"As for Here and There... I see no difference between the two. I am Here and you are There. Once we die, we are everywhere. And, right now is the only time we ever won't be."
A quick transition to gauge his reaction.
"Am I making any sense? I am sorry if I am not," she laughs nervously. "To be honest, you are very attractive. It is hard to keep a conversation with someone whose eyes are as pretty as yours. A-and I am full of questions!" She took another small sip of her tea as she blushed, eyes fixed firmly on the planks of wood below her. I have really met someone interesting tonight, haven't I?
"Handsome? Please." He laughed in earnest, struggling to keep his voice down. Even if he had cast a magic unbeknownst to the clan, he wasn't as to be rude to his company by accident. "I am no incubus, my lady. Rest assured." He set down the teacup and leaned back, silently chuckling from the compliment. Relaxing his shoulders, he felt tension ebb, as it did in the mirrored world. While he was quite fond of her elsewhere-self, his first impression of this Amy was likewise a positive one.
Making her blush was quite adorable-- even if it was a feint.
"Although that is one way to derail a conversation! Miss, I only ever sang you one ballad. Not that it was ever one with romance in mind." Another chuckle, a small reveal of their former relationship. "I would offer you another one, but, dear me, the role I play now leaves no room for practice. Getting time off work is a terrible task." A sigh to accompany his lament, taking both the glass and plate back into hand as it lowered them to his lap without a sip.
"But questions, yes? Did you have something specific in mind? While I cannot give you the full details of all origins, I can at least leave you at ease with some sort of response, in return for answering my own."
"Oh, you are not? That's a relief. I was wondering what I might do if an incubus randomly showed up on my doorstep. I am a married woman you know." The power to charm was one thing but his power was no simple charm. If he was a mere incubus, she would have no problem, but someone such as him...It was best she hid as much as she knew. An entangled soul was something with far-reaching consequences. She was no fool like Elizabeth. Even the most painful of deaths was better than playing stupid games with demons. Therefore, her eyes would not meet his even if it meant tearing them out. She remained fixed on the floor below. Yet, if they had spoken amicably before... there was no need to be quite so guarded, was there?
"Some skills are not easily forgotten, Abigor," Amy chuckled back to him, "I would love to hear a ballad from you if you are willing. I sing sometimes myself. I sing to the children and they seem to like it well enough." At the thought of it, she smiles and swings her legs back and forth beneath the chair. The voices rose from behind her as though singing a wail of their own at the mention of a ballad. Her eyes flicked for a brief moment behind her to notice them so that they might shut up and go away.
"I do have questions." She paused at the thought. "Many for someone such as yourself. But here is one: what happens after death?" He had probably heard it a million times, but it was important to see his response to it before asking anything else. As she asked the question, a tiny creature made its way to the palm of her hand, causing her to set down her drink and examine it with surprise. She held it close to her eyes and smiled gently. It was a hairy little spider, overflowing with the reds of fear and the blacks of its teeny little legs. Amy likes Spiders, so she took her pinky and stroked it gently rubbing all of the red away slowly. It wrapped around her finger and slowly seeped into her blood, and the spider was calmed. In fact, it was euphoric! The human decided to let it live! It had no name, so it could not give it to her, so she decided to give it one in secret.
"You will be named Flauros," she whispered nearly inaudibly to the creature setting it gently on the cloth of the table for it to do as it pleased. Immediately, it made its way over to Abigor as if with some sort of expectation or understanding.
The spider, so insignificant. Silly humans and their insects, dumb demons and their pets. Yet names were powerful, it once was said. Flauros hadn't a clue why, if Amy recalled everything, she'd quietly name the spider that of his own. But with that name came power to the little spider. Perhaps solely in a boost of confidence, perhaps his own special entry into the darkest pit of Hell. A ticket for one itty-bitty, tiny, inconsequential thing.
Rubies would ignore the creature and their whisperings, their mutual understandings, and any hope that came with it. Flauros set out to be entertained-- sometimes that included giving in and sharing answers. It hardly ruined his fun, stealing his natural prey's expectations of the afterlife.
"Why, I thought you knew. You either go to heaven or hell. But not before going somewhere right in the middle of it all. So pray you've been good. Repent, even if that won't save you. Choose a god- or goddess. Someone to help guide you before you're hooked and bleeding, sinking down into the Abyss." His grin widened, feeling almost pleased with his explanation. "I could very well write an entire verse with all that. You should meet me down in Hell shortly to hear it."
A smug smile overtakes her face as she hears his explanation of death. Satisfied, she bobs her head back and forth and returns her attention to the tea in front of her. "Oh, there is nothing to worry about, Abigor. I have seen the list. I have nothing to repent for. I would be more worried for yourself. I am not sure the goddesses will look very favorably on a demon." But a trip to Hell would make a decent field trip. If she had not been overwhelmed by his presence alone, the entirety of Hell would most certainly do it. "It is regrettable, but I don't believe I will be going to see you in Hell any time soon," she sighed, "but I'd like to! Maybe we can coordinate a date to get together and go? I wonder if you have a humble little cottage there. Or maybe a mansion befitting your title?"
"Ah, I have a variety of residencies." He confirmed, raising his glass for another sip. "A trip to the Castle will come in time, but I could take you around the main strip. Yes, you might even enjoy yourself! There's a wonderful restaurant, you know. The Clove has a variety of dishes-- ah, but you may not be able to stomach much there. The palette of their clientele is rather..." Leaving it at that, he gave a few chuckles before returning to his tea.
"Do tell me. How is this mundane life of yours? How is the surface?" Although his hands were both in use, he attempted to gesture to their surroundings with a light shift of his head. "Are you enjoying yourself?"
She smiled at his proposition and made a note of it. If there were any place between the lands that could serve her, it was most certainly The Clove. It was a shame she might not ever be able to see it; she would likely dissolve immediately at the gate. Her chuckle proceeded his own as she brought her cup to her lips to mirror him.
"I'm enjoying it." Her flat voice would suggest otherwise. "The world has always been mundane. All of it is the same." She looked down at her feet and stared at her boots, her mouth slightly ajar. If there was anyone, ANYONE who would know, it would be him, right? Someone had to have seen it too. Someone had to have noticed. Maybe that was why he recognized her. But, wouldn't she recognize him back in that case? He was a demon, so of course he wouldn't-...was it different after all? Or, no, of course! It was because of that, of course it was. so then, she wasn't alone was she? No, of course not! Everyone was together in the end, right? So it WAS mundane after all! Of course!
She mumbled a bit as she focused on grounding herself. Deep breaths. THe tea was niCe. They hadn't had tea in awwhile, so it was good to finally have some again. It felt like the sun going down her throat and filling her body with calm. That's what she would keep saying. It was a good sorts of pain. Today is not yet tomorrow so rainbows and death haven't come for us yet.
Silence overtook Lalonia as the princess placed her cup up for good, sliding it across the table to signify she was finished. She dragged the palm of her hand across the table and, as she did so, splinters pierced her glove and filled the skin of her hand at once. The pain was enough to wince as blood began to drip from her hand. The wood she had touched rotted immediately to the shape of her hand. She focused on the blood, the sensation of the wet liquid dripping down her glove further and further. She took a small lick of it - a sample to see where she was and who she could be.
"Abigor." Her voice was full again. "You've heard of them, haven't you? You are the gatekeeper. You know."
Although he noticed her shift in tone, he couldn't place the reasoning for it. An interesting reaction to which the demon assumed he had simply asked the question wrongly, even if there was much more to it than that. He didn't know, and him being the creature of certainty that he was, he left it. His eyes tracked the lady's cup along the table, and he felt the need to set his glass down as well. All that was left for awhile was a few loose leaves, anyways.
He squinted at the table's rot, recalling an old lost and unsettling memory. For once during his time there, his expression dropped.
"'Them'?" He repeated, innocently cocking his head to the side. "There are plenty of 'them-s'. You really should specify, my lady." Unable to keep himself from teasing her, he folded his hands and leaned back into his seat, his cheerful demeanor returning. "I probably know Them. A question for a question, however- Where from did you learn of my position at the gates?"
The movements of her face were slow, her jaw relaxed and unmoving. That catatonic feeling of stupor as she embraced herself. The unapologetic seer who knew too much. Who saw too much. Unlike Amy Faye, she knew how insignificant it would be. Looking at him. The marks came from another. Lucius was his name.
So she flicked them up to meet his. They were empty, devoid of aggression, devoid of passion, devoid of hope, devoid of despair. And his were the sweet seduction of damnation. As though extending a personalized invitation to a place ripe with suffering.
A place she could not survive in.
"If you don't know who we are, then maybe you aren't paying enough attention." she scoffed. "I get it. You just work here. But you really should take your position as the keeper of Hell more seriously, you know? Who knows who holds the keys to the place?" She considered ignoring his question as she leaned forward tracing circles around the table before them. With each motion of her finger, wood spintered as the wood rotted. Loose ends penetrated her skin, but she barely reacts and simply lets the blood coat the table before them. The conversation had taken a boring turn, but even if she did not show it well, this was something of a sign of 'trust' for her. "Lucius told me," she answered. "Or, what does he go by now? Leviathan? I can't keep up when people change their identities so much. I would really prefer him to stick to a name. I heard he has a wife or something too. I am sure you all are really enjoying yourselves down there now. I would be too. We have messengers, but not Nephili. We have Lilina, but no Lilu. So, I can never really see him." But it's okay, she thought, because they could be together in the end. Some moments must be endured even if they are not pleasurable.
Something about the way she talked did not seem to make much sense. As she spoke, she continued to trace around the table changing the rhythm of her movements with the pace of her voice.
For as relaxed as the demon seemed to be, he was concerned over the circle she had been drawing. With blood, no less. Plenty of conjurations could be made from the space between them, and Flauros hadn't been planning on anything more than conversation. Confrontation was something he'd rather be avoiding. He scooted his chair back some, trying to gain better vantage of whatever symbols she had been placing. Anything that might give hint of its intentions.
She was supposed to be fun, not a threat. Neither he, either. Her idea of 'trust' was not something the demon fully understood, if even slightly.
Eyes narrowed at his master's name, the combined ruler themselves being mentioned. Although the name could've been picked up from text of old, he knew better. Her puzzling words had at least some matching tiles.
"His Majesty, Lord Leviath, yes. But if he told you, then he has too great expectations of me. For you see, I'm not the sole keeper of the gates, nor the one truly in charge. That would be my father, in actuality. One day- whenever the man is slaughtered- is when I'll be able to command rather than assist in their sortings or stealthily pass through. So, again, it is surprising my lord would speak of me at all as the gatekeeper."
