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Post by Gabriel on Sept 15, 2017 10:05:33 GMT
Gabriel nodded.
"It seems like that's how it works. Practice makes it stronger, regular use makes it second-nature. I have to work harder to turn some of my abilities off than on, now. It makes being here all the more draining." Although that wasn't really the right way of putting it, because nothing could stop the steady magical drain that occurred when any magic was being used. You could get stronger, but it was never a bottomless well. It was more of a mental drain, like trying to remember not to use a familiar gesture habitually, or say something in the way you usually would.
"What you think I look good in is less than objective. I'll choose not to push the limits of my magic in that particular way...the Daemon Lord should have some aesthetic dignity, I think." He was already glancing around the shop as he said this, still determined not to acknowledge the mannequin, which was now waving frantically at him while it's round head slowly deflated like a balloon in slow motion. He was learning it was better to just pretend he didn't notice the weird shit going on all around him in this surreal hellscape.
"Naked is good. You're not the one with the local terrorist's name carved into their chest, after all." He arched a brow, grinning, and then turned to rifle through a stack of clothing.
"I have no evidence whatsoever you know anything about putting clothes on! As far as I can tell you only deal with pulling them off." His voice echoed back through the store and the mannequin gestured rudely at him. At least, he assumed it was rude. It wasn't a gesture he knew from Litharia but the intent of the movement felt familiar. Gabriel pulled his own rude gesture before tossing aside piles of pants and shirts he deemed too formal - not entirely alien, they were much less ostentatious but otherwise not wildly different to a lot of Dream Land clothing - but stiff and uncomfortable. Eventually he selected pants made of a thick but flexible and comfortable material, unlike anything he'd found in Litharia, and a simple black t-shirt with a v-shaped neckline that wasn't wildly different to what he often wore, though the fabric was slightly off. Finally, a jacket most definitely made of animal skin caught his eye, heavy with tarnished silver zips and buttons. He shrugged it on and discovered it was comfortable, and warm, and the whole lot was black which worked nicely. The only shoes he could find that were comfortable were made of a kind of canvas, and rubber, and were a closer fit than most boots.
"Right. These pants are great. I want to take these back to Litharia...the jacket, too."
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Post by Hadjara Astaeldr Er on Sept 20, 2017 7:04:35 GMT
“Hmm?” Hadjara cocked her head before a wide grin cracked across her face. “Magic really ain't to special for daemons, huh? Ain't no different than usin' a spear or learnin' how ta swim.” She pressed closer into him, shifting her thighs further down his hips as she pressed her lips against his neck. Hadjara made a soft moaning noise into his ear as she ground her hips in small circles against him.
She popped her head back up as he firmly shut down her suggestions of clothing. “Oh c'mon, ain't it fun ta wear somethin' just ta get it torn off? The only thing that feels better 'n silk an' lace is ripped silk an' lace.”
Hadjara actually laughed and spun on her heel, flinging her wings open wide and sliding her tail around her thigh. “Ya got the name of a terrorist on ya chest but I happen ta be that particular terrorist! Don't ya think I should be lookin' nice?”
She hummed from the back of the store at his comment but otherwise ignored his teasing. She selected a red tie that took a few tries before it rested straight against her shirt, then she shouldered on a dark blue pinstripe waistcoat that hugged the curves of her torso neatly. It took a little longer to find a set of black single pleat pants that fit decently over her wide hips and muscular thighs. She cut a neat little hole in the back for her tail before doing the same to the dark suit jacket to fit her wings. The only shoes in her size were dark red with little heels that took a minute of pacing before she got used to the unstable position. To complete the look, Hadjara turned her tied hair over her shoulder and neatly sat a dark top hat. The little daemon found a filthy mirror and she spun around in front of it before she put her hands in her pants pockets. She rather liked the look, Hadjara decided.
With a bounce in her step she turned to smoke, and she raced back to where Gabriel was. “Oooh, that is a good look for ya. Though I thought ya didn't wanna bring nuthin' back from here? Not that I can blame ya, I plan ta take this with me.”
She reformed, her arms spread wide to show off her suit. “Ta-da! Ain't I cute?”
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Post by Gabriel on Sept 23, 2017 3:11:12 GMT
Gabriel's breath caught in his throat when Hadjara kissed him, the soft moaning right in his ear enough to distract him entirely for a second. Then, he frowned, and shook his head with and expression something between exasperation and pleasure.
"It's amazing I ever get anything done with you around, you know." Only when Hadjara wanted to find clothing herself was he released from the distraction. Not that he really minded - the complaint, if it could even be called that, was decidedly half-hearted.
"Tease," he added under his breath, rifling through the stacks of clothing.
Once dressed and comfortable, Gabriel dug through the stock and found several more of everything he liked in his size, dumping it in a pile on one of the tables for later. He'd make sure to swing by here again before they left, if possible, he figured, and get some extras to take back to Litharia. Travelling and fighting was hard on clothing, and being anywhere near Hadjara was even harder on it. If he wanted to wear it more than once he needed spares, and with Ahman helping to arrange a house for him in Spirit he'd even have somewhere to keep it.
"Like the tiny, adorable serial killer you are," Gabriel agreed, smiling, arms folded over his chest as he blatantly admired Hadjara and her choice of outfit. Not that the clothes were that interesting, in and of themselves, but Gabriel could definitely appreciate the person making them look so appealing.
"Okay, I'll make one concession on the Shadow world. Better clothes than Litharia. Not as good as the Dream Land, but a solid second place. I'll sacrifice my moral high ground for the sake of something great to wear." And, importantly, they weren't so alien as to be completely out of place in Litharia. Nothing like them existed but although they were relatively unique they weren't so ostentatious as to be confusing or distracting.
"Okay, local terrorist. Find me some Shadows, then. What will you do while I'm negotiating?"
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Post by Hadjara Astaeldr Er on Sept 25, 2017 9:43:19 GMT
Hadjara laughed loud and brash before she leaned her head in closer and brushed her lips over the edge of his jaw. “Why would ya wanna do anything but me? I’m way more fun, ain’t I?” She breathed.
He was just too easy to tease! Especially now that she knew so many ways to work him up. A careful trace of fingers here, an adoring moan there and he was barely able to hold back.
Hadjara folded her arms behind her back, under where the the membrane of her wings fused to human skin. “I . . . don’t know what a cereal killer is?” she said, wrinkling up her face and cocking her head. She knew what a killer was, but how that related to food she couldn’t eat was beyond her.
Hadjara misted up so she was sitting on a shelf so her knees were level with his eyes and she let her feet dangle. She fixed her cuffs, making sure the buttons were just so as she hummed in a way that very much resembled a preening bird or strutting cat. Eager for praise without directly asking because wouldn't that just be oh so gauche?
“Ya gonna take all that?” Hadjara asked nodding to the pile of clothes. “They got bags here made outta this stuff called plastic? Kinda like fabric 'cept it melts instead a burnin', though, so that might just melt in ya hands. So if ya don't wanna leave that stuff ta get back later ya gonna need ta carry it.” She made no comment as to his morality. They were unlikely to agree, and she was happier that he had stopped complaining than she was willing to follow that thread.
“Oh, one sec,” Hadjara said before she burst into smoke.
It took a moment before she raced away, although she was gone for a full minute before she returned and formed beside him, holding a folded paper to her chest. “Ta-da!” She said as she spread it open over his pile of clothes and reveled a faded city map.
“City before it was destroyed!” Hadjara said, “gotta make a few changes, though.” She took a large red marker out of her breast pocket and popped off the cap before she leaned over the sheet.
She circled a park on the far east of the city and said, “So here's where we was and we went up tooooooo here.” She drew a line up a street until she could circle the mall where they now were. If Gabriel had thought they had traveled a great distance he was sorely mistaken – the red marks were barely more than a smudge off to one side.
Hadjara set down the red pen and pulled out a brown one. “Oookaay, so see this area here?” Hadjara circled a huge range in the center of the city before she drew an X through it. “This place don't exist no more. Think of it like a pillar where the air's too thick to get through an' it crushes everything inside it. And here-” Hadjara scribbled in brown along the southern edge of town “-is where the glass fires meets the city and ain't no one dumb enough ta stay there.”
And then a new, blue pen.
“Shadows tend ta cluster in areas that used ta be residential, either for livin' in or scavengin'. I only encountered a few right 'bout here.” Hadjara poked the pen halfway between where they were and the center of town. “Ya might be able ta find some here.”
Hadjara sat back and set down her blue marker with the rest. “So here's the thing,” she said, “in this world there are . . . seals. Lines Shadows can draw that things like me can't cross. For me it'd be like walking inta a wall, or I wouldn't even be able ta focus on it enough ta realize somethin's there. So the easiest way ta find a street I can't see or ya keep goin' past where I can walk. Obviously, Nalla an' Shauri will go with ya.” Hadjara said. She declined to comment on what she would be doing, mostly because it likely involved finding shadows for a rather different purpose. “Let's get goin'!”
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Post by Gabriel on Sept 29, 2017 0:53:13 GMT
She was doing it on purpose. She was definitely doing it on purpose. Gabriel trailed light fingers across her collarbone, up the column of her throat, then cupped her jaw in one hand, holding her still with her head tilted slightly upwards to make eye contact.
"Of course you are, you ridiculous distraction." And then he was laughing, the mood shifting abruptly, as she turned to smoke and reformed looking puzzled about his serial killer comment. Sometimes he still forgot how short a time she'd been part of the real world, instead of just a world in the marshes.
"Someone who kills a series of people. At least three, I'd say, and you've clocked up far more than that." No judgement, of course; the label hadn't been intended as an insult, and his own body count was somewhere verging on uncountable if you included the war kills.
"And you look good doing it. Great, in fact. Adorably murderous."
Gabriel wandered around the shop until he found the bags Hadjara had referred to while she was gone, by this point relatively unperturbed by her habit of racing off without warning, without explaining where she was going, and without indicating how long she might be gone. The building was eerily quiet, except for a dull banging from the same mannequin, now thudding it's handless arm slowly against the glass. At least its head had reinflated, though. Gabriel ignored it. He packed the clothes away ready and then she was back, bearing a map, and he stood behind her and looked over her shoulder to watch her draw out their location in bright red ink. He stayed silent during her explanations even though he kind of wanted to say that glass fires sounded more interesting than anything else she'd said so far, because knowing the Shadow world it sounded great but would just be some other unmentionable horror. The plan, though, that sounded workable. It sounded like direction, and action, and burning through time. He was happy with that.
"Good. Yeah, let's go..." Turning her around so she was facing him again he grinned and kissed her quickly, affectionate and playful now, the gesture one of easy familiarity and simple intimacy.
"Gods, what is that thing's problem? Let's go before it really pisses me off." The mannequin, which he had stared pointedly at as he said this, had reacted to him kissing Hadjara by pressing its round featureless head to the glass and pushing until the oval shape started to distort.
"The Shadows won't mind Nalla and Shauri, then?"
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Post by Hadjara Astaeldr Er on Oct 1, 2017 11:12:11 GMT
Hadjara grinned and laughed, delighting in the way he teased her back. She leaned into his touch, and she pressed her hand over his as she closed her eyes. His hands had what would have been hard with rough callouses were he human, but instead they were smoothed and slightly raised stone pads that pressed gently into her cheekbone. She was brimming with affection, and it radiated off of her the way heat rolled off Gabriel, and she raised her chin out of his hand before she buried her face in his neck.
“Yeah,” Hadjara said thoughtfully, “I'd say I've killed more 'n three people. Eatin' more 'n three too.” She ran her tongue over her pointed fangs before she smiled, “ya think I look cute? Can't say the same thing 'bout ya, ya mostly look scary.” And wildly, wildly attractive. Like, unreasonably attractive. So attractive she wanted to – never tell him because he would absolutely use it against her.
The little crocodile sighed and leaned into him, slinging a wing over his shoulder and tying her tail around his thigh as she scribbled on the map. Really, it would be insanely faster to travel as an adumbrate, which Gabriel couldn't do, or travel by car, which Gabriel wouldn't do. Hadjara pressed her tongue into her cheek and furrowed her brow as she thought about how best to go about this. Shadows were irritatingly good at staying hidden – without the ability to reproduce that was how they managed to keep their species from extinction. Miracle of 'life' or whatever, she supposed she should be impressed by their tenacity but right now it was just making everything more complicated.
She kissed Gabriel back with a casual familiarity before she folded the map neatly and tucked it in one of the front pockets of his jacket. “This ain't like the cities ya used to where they just sorta grew up all over the place. These was built ta fit inta a grid. A lot of the roads an' buildings are in ruins now but if ya stick ta the main streets it's gonna be real hard ta get lost, even when ya go past where I can follow. I think. Please don't get lost, my vector's can't give ya directions. Ya may have noticed but they ain't exactly well put together. And ya can't read that map neither.” Hadjara rested her chin in her hands and let out a frustrated groan. “An' no, shadows ain't gonna worry too much 'bout them. Vectors are drawn ta adumbrates but unattached ones'll start followin' anything that looks like might get 'em a meal. Think of 'em like carrion birds – it's like ya got some vultures waddlin' after ya. Kinda creepy but not super threatenin'.”
She only opened one eye to look at Gabriel when he pointed out the mannequin, before she turned her head to look at it. “Well . . . I mean the thing's spent eons trapped here screamin' without no voice an' whatnot,” Hadjara shrugged, “it probably went mad a long time ago. Kinda pitiful, ta be honest.”
“Get your shit, let's go,” Hadjara said as she turned to smoke and reformed in the doorway, bouncing on her heels and folding her arms behind her back.
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Post by Gabriel on Oct 6, 2017 7:20:15 GMT
Gabriel laughed.
"Cute isn't really what I'm going for while I'm ripping someone's head off. Scary is good. I do like intimidating people." Ideally with his mere presence, but if he had to burn and slash his way to terror, so be it. This was where the chaos reigned strongest for Gabriel; the subtle shift between charm and threat, sometimes a slow simmering fury that bubbled up until it boiled over, and other times suave leader to sadistic nightmare in the time it took to blink, a dream morphing into hell between breaths.
Most of what Hadjara was saying about the city, about finding the Shadows, was meaningless to him. This world was too alien, it's inhabitants even more so. He picked out the bits he thought he could use - a grid would mean the street layout should be logical, the direction able to be puzzled out amongst ruined buildings. And main streets should be easy to identify, too, even with the city in its collapsed state.
"Vultures? Right. So, a literal alien towing around a couple of carrion...things...wandering into the midst of a people constantly threatened by things like Malak. This should go well." Gabriel could think of no analogous situation in Litharia but, from his perspective at least, the situation was crazy at best and dangerous at worst. In the Shadow's shoes he wouldn't have listened...it was going to take every ounce of diplomatic nous he could summon just to get them to talk, if he had to guess.
But, with Hadjara puzzling over how best to find the Shadows in the first place, Gabriel thought it might be time to reveal a new kind of magic he sensed brewing in some nameless place where the Daemons held their magic. He wasn't sure, yet, if it would be useful, but the familiar itch of growing power had him eager to at least try it out. He knew it was transformative, knew it felt like fire and ash, but he couldn't know more until he let the magic loose.
"Hold up a second. There's something I want to try." For a second it was like he was suddenly immersed in water, the outline of his form wavering and shimmering, and then in the blink of an eye there was a person-shaped cloud of smoke where he'd been standing. It held that shape for a moment before the edges started to bleed, and it reformed into a more abstract cloud. The colour was white, the wispy thin smoke of a clean-burning fire, the edges faintly tinted grey with ash. Another few seconds and Gabriel reformed, looking surprised and a little unsettled.
".....Weird. Very weird. Does it feel weird to you when you turn to smoke? It's like I can't tell where I stop and the world starts so clearly any more." It was nothing like turning to fire, where he was there but contained within a shell of soothing flame. It was much more ephemeral, and slightly disorienting. And, perhaps, freeing.
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Post by Hadjara Astaeldr Er on Oct 18, 2017 8:11:56 GMT
Hadjara grinned from ear to ear and let her gaze travel up his body. She licked her lips before she said, “now why ya gotta worry so much 'bout the impact ya got on people that ain't gonna live much longer?” She leaned forward a little with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “Unless ya just wanna put on a show for anyone watchin'.”
He was a show-off, after all. Not that she minded in the slightest.
“Aw, don't think too much 'bout it,” Hadjara said. She leaned back into him and raised her chin to look at him. “Ya lie well, even without no magic. Just tell whoever ya find that they just started following ya. Even if the vectors say otherwise they have a hard time getting' across ideas and tend ta babble so I doubt no shadow is gonna listen.” Even adumbrates tended to only pay mind to vectors connected to them, and the more coherent of her two wouldn't speak to anyone but Hadjara herself unless specifically asked. “It should probably go without sayin' but ignore 'em and don't say their names unless ya gonna send them ta get me. Since they can teleport I can use 'em ta get past the barrier so I can get ta ya if ya really need me to. In case ya run inta somethin' else. All kinds a big bad monsters waitin' ta gobble ya up.”
She stopped when asked and she looked at Gabriel, her face screwed up in confusion. Why on earth would they wait? They had to go, especially if they were going to be walking the whole way.
Hadjara's tail swished and she put her hands on her hips as she watched him concentrate, and she remained absolutely still as he turned into a smoke outline of himself, then changed back. Hadjara blinked a few times, tilted her head a little at his question, then turned to smoke herself.
Hadjara reformed clinking to him in an instant, her legs curled high enough around his torso that his face was level with her chest, one arm braced against his shoulder and the other one on his jaw bone, turning his head up to look her in the eye. She wasn't entirely solid - the ends of her hair, her tail, and the ends of her legs and wings all trailed off into smoke that flickered and coiled against Gabriel's skin with barely contained excitement. “. . . do it again,” she finally said.
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Post by Gabriel on Nov 5, 2017 1:02:16 GMT
Gabriel grinned.
"You know me. Of course I want to put on a show." That was how you built a reputation; the people you killed couldn't spread the information very far, after all. And reputation was power in his line of work. Whether Hadjara fully understood how intimately tied his very life was to his title or not, she definitely had his measure when it came to his flair for the dramatic.
Gabriel was not used to taking big bad monsters into account when planning, well, anything really, and having to do so now made him scowl. Back in Litharia he was the big bad monster; very few things, these days, posed any kind of meaningful threat to him. And, what's more, his magic was developed enough that getting the hell out of the way when something maybe was dangerous was as easy as blinking. True, the Dream Land was another story, with the omniscient and ever-present threat of that Daemon Lord, but it had been a long time since he'd lived anywhere that wasn't his sandbox, his playground. If only he could teleport out he'd have been completely fine with it - having an exit strategy was a soothing prospect - but Gods only knew when that power was going to be recharged. Before something ate him, hopefully.
Speaking of, he probably shouldn't be playing with magic right now. The urge, growing ever since the new power flickered into life somewhere deep in his chest, had now passed, though Hadjara's reaction made him laugh out loud. But it had seemed worth trying even with the risk because he had a question for Hadjara about it.
"I'm supposed to be not using magic, if possible," he said, a reminder to himself more than anything. It was so hard not to slip into habitual use; there were so many abilities that, by now, were as natural as breathing. This one, though, had a specific purpose.
"What do you reckon, though? Is it worth the risk to travel like that to cut down on the walking, or will I draw in too many big baddies for you to eat?" Travelling by foot would be slow, and frustrating for Hadjara, but there was no chance Gabriel was getting into any kind of vehicle with her again. Hell, he wouldn't let her drive a carriage back in Litharia right now - there was still a dull ache from the cold wrapped unpleasantly around the repaired bone of his forearm to remind him she was an absolute maniac given a free hand with something large, fast, and made of metal.
"Might speed things up, if you don't think it's too dangerous." Might. The magic was so new he might take some time to get used to it, and he envisioned crashes might be possible in the early days.
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Post by Hadjara Astaeldr Er on Dec 3, 2017 9:19:36 GMT
“I think it builds ya reputation if ya don't leave nuthin' at all. Raze the earth, scorch the sky an' all that.” Hadjara folded her arms behind her back and leaned forward conspiratorially, “Guess I do what you do too, showin' off an' all. Did I tell ya I was takin' fights in a gladiator ring over in the Spirit? I had a couple people try ta say they was stronger 'n me already. I froze 'em so good their insides turned all ta jelly and they fell outta their skin. Was kinda gross but the fights ended in only a couple seconds.”
Hadjara punched his arm in a way that was meant to be playful but could very well shatter the bone on a flimsier life form. ”Ain't no mess, 'neither, seein' as how Lev eats the daemon meat slush. You should come watch sometime! Since I'm defendin' my title an' all. By the way, what is my title? Ya got a real mouthful with 'Jhaed'z Oz Tare'.” Hadjara did actually know how to say his name, but she had never actually tried and her accent made the elvish sound thick and twangy. “Don't I get no cool ol' nickname too?”
Hadjara had never actually met another humanoid with only one name, and she didn't know how to go about collecting more. Did she take the names off the people she had defeated in combat? Because if that was how it was supposed to work then Gabriel would have an upsettingly long name.
Not that any of that was half as interesting as Gabriel turning into smoke then refusing to do it again. She pouted and wiggled her whole body in agitation. She locked her legs tighter around his waist and made a deep, unhappy noise deep in her chest as she tried to get her point across.
“Gabe,” she said firmly, “you're my best friend, I love ya, and I ain't gonna put ya in no excessive danger but I'm gonna need ya ta do that again.” She pressed her hands harder into his cheeks and leaned in so close that their foreheads were almost touching and his eyes seemed to blur together. “Please.” A desperate excitement crept into her tone and she ground into him a little. She didn't know if she expected sex, or just the delightful tingling feeling that came with interacting with a compatible magic, but good gods did she want it bad.
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Post by Gabriel on Jan 11, 2018 8:06:52 GMT
Gabriel smiled darkly.
"Sometimes I raze the earth. Ask the Fae about the times I battled alongside them." Before his fire magic Gabriel had still enjoyed wracking up a body count, and there had been something incredibly freeing about all out war. On the battlefield few rules mattered; anyone in the wrong colour was fair game, and any method went. War like that was non-existent in the Dream Land - the Daemons were too scattered and transient to form lasting loyalties. It had been a revelation. In some ways he missed those times, although the Daemons as a whole were safer for the fragile ceasefire that now prevailed between the Humans and their ancestral enemies.
"Gladiator rings?" Gabriel shook his head.
"You went back there? You could have told me, I'd have come to watch earlier." Well, maybe. The last time he'd visited the gladiator rings he'd hauled Hadjara, and Levent, out of there and wreaked some havoc in the process. There was a good chance he wasn't welcome back.
He shrugged at her next question.
"Jhaedaes Os Tar isn't a Daemon title, it's a Fae one. We don't have our own titles beyond Daemon Lord, Strongest Daemon, Eldest Daemon and Deputy. The Fae gave the Daemon Lord the title not long after the Daemons first crossed the portal. I've never asked for the title they gave the Strongest Daemon, if they ever did, because none have claimed the role before during my reign." The Strongest Daemon was arguably the least secure of the four positions, and could not be claimed by default like the title of Eldest Daemon either. It required a certain willingness to stick your neck out and invite challengers, without necessarily carrying the political responsibility of the Daemon Lord title. So, it was not always claimed, since the Daemons were few in number still and it took the right kind of person to be willing to put their hand up for the kind of life Strongest Daemon demanded. The Fae probably had a title though, harking back to early days when the Fae were eager to welcome and mingle with the alien arrivals from Dream Land, rather than find themselves embroiled in conflict with the darkly chaotic travellers.
"We can ask the Fae when we get back to Litharia if you want." Gabriel, of course, could send telepathic messages to any of his Fae contacts he wanted to, any time. It was getting a response from them that was the problem.
He couldn't help but be drawn into her excitement over the magic. It wasn't like he wanted to resist; the itch to use magic was like the urge to breathe, although perhaps not this particular magic. It was too new, and not innate, but yet still he'd love to play with it more. So he agreed, cocking his head and grinning down at her with an easy playfulness that was rare even amongst his constantly shifting moods.
"You'd better eat anything that gets interested, then," was all he said, before his form shimmered again. This time he was faster, and his solid form didn't flicker, but the smoke cloud hung still in the air a moment before slowly shifting. Not moving, when like this, felt unspeakably unnatural. Who ever saw a cloud of perfectly still smoke, after all. Gabriel curled around Hadjara, slow and sensuous, the smoke form near-translucent. And so malleable. The amount of mass this form held could not be altered, but the shape could be anything he wanted - long and thin, a dense cloud, a trickle that could float beneath a door or through a crack in the floor. The possibilities this opened up were endless. He reformed with a delighted grin on his face, eyes bright as he examined his now solid hand for a moment, marvelling at the difference between this form and the smoke.
"I don't think I'll go too high before I practice. Reforming hundreds of miles up wouldn't be fun."
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Post by Hadjara Astaeldr Er on Jan 12, 2018 3:56:34 GMT
“I don't . . . I don't wanna fight no wars, Gabe.” There was something so utterly terrifying about the idea of war. Something Hadjara didn't know how to put it into words, given how she had gone from opposing violence entirely to being . . . not opposed to violence. But there was a difference between what she did and what he was talking about. Right? There was less terror in what she did. Less of a chance of destroying more lives than she could count if she just stuck to killing people who wanted to fight her to begin with.
“An' anyway, don't seem much like I gotta worry 'bout that happening, I don't think I could be around Fae magic like that an' that's the side ya go for, ain't it?” She wasn't actually lying about her aversion to Fae magic as Gabriel was now deeply aware, but she remained ignorant about the angels and their own vendetta against daemons.
Still, she gave him a fang-y grin and nodded happily. “Different one than the last one – I ran inta a buncha people who was pissed 'cause I was hard ta find so I asked someone ta write where ta find me real big on that chalk wall next ta where ya live. This one's volunteer only an' it's got a big gamblin' thing goin' on too, an' people always end up bettin' against me.” She looked small, and for whatever reason people tended to think that meant she was frail too. “The boss adores me – he buys me stuff all the time an' he got me champion belt that's got a buncha carved gold crocodiles. Say's he ain't never had better business.” She didn't really get it, but after she said she wasn't interested in a cut the boss seemed to come to the conclusion that she was his favorite person.
Hadjara curled her tail around her though and pressed her thumb to her lips thoughtfully. “Guess that's why I didn't have ta fight no one ta take it then, huh? Most people I fight don't even seem ta want it, y'know? They mostly seem pissed that I'm the one who got the title seein' as how I don't really care much 'bout politics.” She hadn't actually decided she wanted the title to begin with. Malak had overheard a conversation about no one being the strongest Daemon and decide they'd be damned if they weren't the strongest one living. After a moment Hadjara moved her hand so it was tucked neatly against her pointed chin and took on a teasing note as she asked, “ya ever worry 'bout me, huh?”
“Yeah – I'd like ta ask someone. I mean it'd be nice ta know if I got a cool title ta use since I don't plan on dyin' any time soon.” Outside of a vague inclination to escape Litharia and stay in the Shadow World indefinably but she wasn't about to bring that up again.
“Is that somethin' any ol' elf might know or do I gotta find a specific one?”
As soon as he agreed to turn into smoke Hadjara unlocked her legs from his waist and dropped to her feet as she said, “ya know I will!” She was positively glowing and her tail was moving in a fashion vaguely akin to wagging as he finally turned to smoke around her.
There was a weight to his presence, a pressure that seemed to radiate his power. Hadjara smiled softly and raised a hand, curling her fingers around the smoke that filtered through the air before her own fingers curled into thick streams of green-black smoke and coiled through him. It was such a surreal feeling. Smoke could inhabit the same space the way a body couldn't and it felt deeply intimate in a way touching with skin wasn't. It was entrancing and she felt a stab of disappointment as he reformed back into his meat suit, and after a beat her fingers reformed from smoke as well.
“What's it feel like when ya do it?” She blurted out, “can ya move things? Wanna try? How fast can ya move in that form anyway? Ya think that'll be faster than walking?” Then she paused in her enamored gushed and knitted her brows together as a frown pressed across her lips. She remembered Gabriel being worried the first time she turned to smoke that her powers had somehow been gifted from the Dream Lord. At the time it had seemed silly to her but now she could sympathize as a seed of unease nestled in her stomach.
“Ya . . . ya did't get that power from bein' here, did'ya?” She asked nervously. He hadn't done anything she had that made her lose part of herself and become a denizen of the Shadow World. She had made sure he didn't. But she didn't know everything about how it worked – hell, Malak didn't even know all of what it took for the Shadow World to start infecting someone – and the possibility of it changing Gabriel made her nervous. “This is a fire thing, right?”
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Post by Gabriel on Jan 13, 2018 4:03:22 GMT
That surprised him, actually. Ever since Malak had come along Hadjara had all but plunged into hedonistic villainy, and it couldn't be the killing or death that had her spooked. She killed at the time, even if she was still conflicted about it. He appraised her silently for a moment as he tried to figure this out - her conscience, still? He wondered if when Malak was back she would feel differently, prompted to greater violence by his mere presence. In the end though, he just shrugged.
"The Fae mostly, yes. We may have our own war coming up, though, if the Angels continue to cause trouble." As Strongest Daemon she might have a hard time avoiding that one. Any army he pulled together would expect her to be there. Did he? He wasn't sure, yet. He'd always had Calandra, his deputy, before. That position remained unfilled and maybe it wasn't fair to ask Hajdara, holding a different title, to try and plug the gap.
He arched a brow at Hadjara's description of the gladiator rings she'd fallen in with, deeply amused. Hadjara, probably the least materialistic person he knew (although Malak certainly wasn't), lounging around surrounded by gold and wealth that she wouldn't appreciate in the slightest, was quite the image. The owner must have thought he'd won the lottery.
"Worry about you? I'm sure you're perfectly capable of crushing anything that crosses you these days. You're very different from the human that followed me out of that swamp." No, organised fighting for money and glory - and titles - didn't worry him much. Malak worried him. The idea of Hadjara coming here forever was still plaguing his thoughts, a dark spot on his otherwise jubilant mood. Like her, though, he wasn't about to bring that up in conversation again.
"Most of them will know. The Elves, anyway, they're all such bookworms." It would be recorded in their library, that much was certain, but plenty of the Elves were active scholars. Plenty of the other Fae, too. It wouldn't be hard to find out.
The feeling of Hadjara's physical form, when he turned to smoke, was not too odd. There was no ability to sense warmth but he could still tell alive from non-alive. For that matter, he could still see, which was a weird sensation when he realised he had no eyes. It was a different transfer of energy but the magic turned it into something he could recognise, even when ephemeral. When Hadjara turned into her own smoke form, though, he recoiled at first - magic crackling against magic. He could tell, much more clearly, that Hadjara's magic came from a different place than his own. After he got used to it, realised he was able to hold the form without it bleeding into and mingling with hers, it felt less alien. He was grinning when he reformed.
"I don't know. I don't know anything about it yet, it's new. I'm sure it's faster than walking, but it's also a higher level ability. It's probably thrown off a beacon of energy whenever I use it."
Gabriel had not known that becoming infected by the Shadow World was something he might possibly have to worry about. Hadjara didn't say it, but it wasn't hard to read between the lines of her questions and her sudden nervousness. Gabriel's eyes narrowed for a moment, an instinctive desire to rid himself of the contamination of this world putting him on edge, but he managed not to snap and ruin the light-hearted mood. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment, feeling for the magic, making sure.
"No. It's fire, I can feel it. Brand new, but definitely fire." He opened his eyes again, expression wry.
"I'd better not pick up anything from this place. You might be okay with parasites, but I'm definitely not."
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Post by Hadjara Astaeldr Er on Jan 14, 2018 5:17:06 GMT
Hadjara felt him staring at her as she looked at her fingers, and she squirmed a little under his gaze. She tapped her thumbs together and looked down, then up at his face, then off to the middle distance, looking at a deep crack in the pavement without really seeing it. “That's part of what happened here,” She finally blurted out. She glanced rapidly between him and the very interesting break in the pavement as she elaborated, “to this place. Towards the end – the last decade or two the whole world was at war. I don't think that's what ended the world but it didn't help. I mean I didn't exist during it and it was probably millions of years ago but this world still remembers it so I – well – I've seen some of those memories and . . .” Hadjara suddenly opened her arms wide to gesture at everything around them. “Look at what happened! How could I – why would I ever want ta participate in somethin' that could do this?”
She drew back into herself, and rubbed her arms. “Mal says what you – what we do back home ain't the same. Says they can't be compared 'cause we look like children fightin' with sticks an the weapons they made here were – there ain't nuthin' comparable on Litharia. But I seen what Mal remembers before he died and it's things that should never happen to no one.”
Bringing up Malak was always dangerous, but talking about what he remembered, not what he was or his opinions seemed like a decent way to get around it. How else was she supposed to talk about it, 'oh I know this because I ate the memories of someone who saw this happening?' Going off Malak's own personal recollections seemed more reliable than a nameless dead rando.
After a moment her shoulders slumped into a more relaxed posture before she fell back into her usual displays of affection. Namely, she curled both her arms around his and pushed her hip against his as her tail hooked around his knee. She actually laughed when he said she wasn't the human he knew anymore and she said, “did my tail give it away? Or was it the wings?” Her tail squeezed his leg a little tighter and she stood on tip toe so she could kiss the side of his neck. “An' if I recall, I didn't follow ya, all ya did was give me directions out of the swamps.”
She chewed on her lip when he brought up the fact that maybe this was a good way to get in over her head. Because he was right. That was a good way to get them both eaten. “Well if it's faster than walkin' we could outpace a lotta the bigger predators. Really the biggest threat is other Adumbrates an' they ain't gonna fall for my bluffin'.” Then she shrugged as she decided, “It'll be worth it. Adumbrates are pretty rare and I'll be able ta detect most of 'em before they get the jump on us.” She thumped a hand on his shoulder before she turned into smoke herself and coiled past him in angular, unnatural motions then reformed on his other sides with an arm around his waist and her head tucked against his ribs.
Hadjara sighed in relief when he confirmed that it was his own magic, and she shook her head lightly at his casual jab. “I didn't get these powers from Malak or any other parasite. Don't worry 'bout it – since ya ain't just an exposed soul with no body I think ya immune ta this place's corruption.”
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Post by Gabriel on Feb 5, 2018 4:57:48 GMT
He knew she was uncomfortable whenever he tried to puzzle her out. Gabriel could be self-absorbed, but he was also often fascinated by others, especially where they differed from him. Finding a battle anything but thrilling, or perhaps rage inspiring, was a strange thought to him - and, entrenched as he was in the world of Daemons, sometimes he assumed his own experiences were universal to his kind. Not so.
He glanced around when she gestured at the dead, broken world. He could agree with her there; Gabriel loved Litharia, genuinely and without reproach, but then again that had been why the Fae and the Humans were fighting in the first place. His motivation in joining the war hadn't been to protect a world he felt like was home - less nobly, he'd been interested in securing the strength of the Daemons and an alliance was important in aiding that - but seeing Litharia turned to this would be devastating. There, maybe, lay the point.
"Sometimes you don't have a choice. We were fighting to stop the Humans doing this to Litharia, and wiping out the Fae in the first place. For the Fae it was war or annihilation." Whether Litharia would survive the loss of the Fae, whether it would persist in a changed form, whether there was a way for both Humans and Fae to live the way they wanted without crushing the other...Gabriel didn't care about those questions so much.
"Maybe everyone thinks they're on the right side. The Humans have their reasons for living the way they do too, I'm sure." A fatal mismatch in a world that couldn't sustain two such different forces, perhaps? Gabriel longed to know what had happened here in more detail, but he wasn't going to stay any longer than he had to either. Either way, Malak was wrong. If Gabriel's own magic could raze towns, murder hundreds, then the combined forces of the magic-wielding Fae against the Human's numbers and stolen artefacts was perfectly capable of destroying the world. Maybe all that stopped it was that both sides wanted the world to live in after the other side was dead. Maybe if you overstepped, you destroyed the world itself by accident.
Gabriel didn't think war was a choice for them against the Angels, either, but he didn't say that for now.
"You should have followed me. The trees wouldn't have smacked you in the face, then." He still felt a little guilty about that to this day, even though Hadjara's eye was long-since fixed. Less guilty, though, when he considered the fact he was hanging out in a wasteland planet that Hadjara only thought wouldn't infect him with some kind of unexplained "corruption". Still, he changed wordlessly to smoke, mimicking Hadjara and altering parts of his body in sequence before his entire form became ephemeral. Where she was dark and dramatic, though, he was so insubstantial as to be nearly invisible. The form could be altered between different types of smoke - thick, choking and black, from a coal fire, to clear and pale white from clean-burning flames. Gabriel hadn't quite gotten a handle on control yet, though.
Also, he couldn't speak in this form, so he tried telepathy.
Can...you hear me? Lead the way, I guess. I'll try not to crash into anything.
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