Demiurge imagines introducing Fiat Daimon and HW Daimon. Imagines them staring at each other.
Daimon laughs.
Daimon says "HW Daimon is a little more, I dunno, bizarre."
Demiurge | Daimonique, you need to travel to another universe... to save it from the evils of Dominic.
Sarah giggles.
Fiat Daimon blinks. "But Dominic is Good, I tell you."
Demiurge says "Alternate IN Universe Travel!"
Sarah just fears all of you. :)
Fiat Daimon just looks at Raphael and says "I want nothing to do with you, man."
Demiurge laughs.
Raphael attempts to trigger a DaimonGeas. It fails to work on FiatDaimon. Raphael holds it up to his ear and taps it. Shakes it. Fiddles with it. "Just a moment, this one has a blown fuse."
Fiat Sarah blinks mildly and does *not* say out loud, "Daimon, did you just actually do something wise?"
Fiat Daimon says, "Gosh, I hope not."
Demiurge snickers.
Raphael sighs. "Just a moment, I need to go kill Yves. Be right back."
Fiat Daimon just _looks_ at Fiat Sarah. "This universe is bad and wrong."
Fiat Sarah looks at Fiat Daimon. "I agree. And just a tad out of our league, I suspect."
Overhead, the First Trumpet ripples through the air like fire.
Fiat Sarah says, "Perhaps more than a tad."
Fiat Daimon looks up at the sky. "This is just bad and wrong. I'm getting scared."
Maxwell and Blitzen charge past, in Full Enthusiasm Mode.
Fiat Sarah looks after Maxwell and Blitzen. "I /am/ scared."
Star pauses. "Either of you any good with Ethereal Healing? We've got problems with Laurence, since Dominic drove him discordant and insane..."
Fiat Daimon says, "I want to go home, Sarah."
The shining Transworld Portal glitters behind them in the evening light, tinted by the flames of the burning Groves.
Fiat Sarah suggests, "Why don't you go home, and I'll lend what help I can, then join you?"
Fiat Daimon says "Um, are you sure?"
Fiat Sarah nods solemnly.
From the distance drifts the massed scream of thousands of Angels of Trade, as Marc's Tower crumbles.
Fiat Sarah suggests, "... Why don't you hurry?"
Fiat Daimon gulps, and runs for the portal.
The portal flickers. An unbiased observer might consider it an ominous flicker.
Sarah scampers to lend the help of her miniscule chip at the insanity of an Archangel.
Fiat Daimon runs through the portal. Zip.
The portal remains spinning in the air, ready for Sarah.
<
<
<
<
<
As Sarah follows the purposeful angels, she is led towards the Cathedral of the Sword - which
seems in disarray.
Fiat Sarah tries very hard not to think about that, and follows the yellow brick angels. Er,
wait.
In the centre of the great hall of the Cathedral lies the prostrate figure of Laurence, several angels
on their knees around him. He seems unconscious. Blood marks his body from a thousand tiny
wounds, stippling his wings.
Fiat Sarah . o O ( Oh, dear. )
Fiat Sarah tags along after Star, who seems to have some idea of what's going on.
<
Star returns to singing Ethereal Healing, joined in a chorus by other angels. From outside, comes
the sound of Archangels fighting.
<
<
Fiat Sarah tries to ignore sound and environment, and joins in said chorus, lifting lion-head in
Ethereal Song.
Another angel - with a shock, Sarah would recognise it as Shannen - comes winging in. "Can I
help? Michael's fighting David outside..."
Fiat Sarah . o O ( This place is just bad and wrong. )
Crashes and screams come from outside.
Star breaks away for a moment to sniffle. "If only Dominic hadn't Fallen, if only he weren't the
Prince of Corruption..."
Laurence begins to wake. He doesn't look happy. He looks like a discordant Malakite trapped in
his worst nightmare.
Sarah pauses to stroke Star's wings with the tip of her own. "If-onlies won't help, dear." . o O (
_WHAT_?!? ) "And perhaps we ..." She blinks at Laurence. "Still can. I'd suggest singing your
best. Quickly."
The massed angels join in a Song to heal and soothe. It helps. A little. But Sarah can tell that there
is very little that she, on her own, can do.
Fiat Sarah helps, nonetheless, and keeps herding other angels into helping when and where
possible. And, when and where it is not possible, slinks out and then runs full-tilt for the Portal.
Zoom!
<
<
<
Daimon appears... in a bright, beautiful, wonderful Heaven, where the Spires rise in gold and
ebony against the sky. A Kyriotate is drifting nearby, thoughtfully.
<
Daimon goes running for help.
Hitherby brightens. "Hello, dear sister!"
<
Hitherby shines with a transcendent, faintly glittery glow, save where the sunglasses perch on a
dozen pairs of eyes.
Angels fly overhead, in this happy Heaven, serpentine Seraphim, bright-winged Lilim, skimming
Wheels and dazzling Kyriotates.
Daimon says "Hitherby, Hitherby! It's terrible! I went throught his portal, and it took me to this
Heaven where Dominic was Bad and Laurence was Sick and Gabriel just blew her trumpet and
I left Sarah. They need help! Lots of Help!"
Daimon says "You gotta come and bring people and wait... there's like Lilim flying up there.
Wacky."
Hitherby takes Daimon's shoulders in her hands.
Hitherby looks seriously into Daimon's eyes, lifting a pair of sunglasses for a moment with another
hand.
Daimon says "Um, we gotta go. The portal might close."
Hitherby says, "Baby, the Fall is *old* news."
Daimon says "Wha?"
<
Daimon looks baffled.
Hitherby says "We've got to think *upbeat* now."
Daimon says "But this other heaven --- they're all sick, and they need Help, like now..."
Hitherby says "Focus on the positive! Forget the negative! Dear sister, have you heard the Word?
The Lord will triumph! Even Dominic will be Redeemed, in time." She reflects. "In a *long*
time." She reflects. "In a ... anyway. Have *faith*, baby.""
Hitherby says "Come on, let me see that Lilim-pure smile."
Hitherby reaches out with two more hands and pulls up at the corners of Daimon's mouth.
<
<
<
Sarah stumbles.
Sarah beats her wings to regain balance.
Hitherby says, "*That's* better. Now, why don't you come to the Radio Towers and have some
tea and scones? You're obviously confused."
Hitherby lifts a hand. "Hey, Sarah!"
Daimon starts away from Hitherby. "Um, um... "
Daimon says "Sarah, I think I liked that other Heaven better."
Sarah waves a wing, and paces to Daimon's side. And pauses.
Sarah says "Oh, dear."
Hitherby sighs. "Baby, there ain't *no* place better than Heaven. That's why God wants everyone
to come here in the end."
Sarah pauses and blinks once or twice. "Hitherby? When did you start wearing sunglasses?"
Hitherby says "He tries! He strives! It's not his fault some people don't listen, but there's always
time! Sarah there -- *she* knows."
Sarah murmurs aside to Daimon, "And talking like your friend of the Media?"
Hitherby blinks at Sarah. "Hey, the future's so bright, I just *gotta*."
Sarah says "Daimon?"
Sarah says "Are we lost?"
Hitherby says "By the way, you're on in," She lifts up a wrist, checks a plastic Mickey Mouse
watch. "Two hours, Sarah, so I think you'd better start getting ready."
Daimon nods to Sarah. "I think we're lost."
Sarah pauses.
Sarah says "On?"
A Seraph emerges from the Spires of gold and ebony, pale gold wings rippling. He inclines his
wings in a formal salute to the three angels.
Daimon ums.
Sarah bows her head and moves her wings in a like gesture.
Daimon whispers to Sarah, "I think I liked the destruction better."
Hitherby rolls several hands, eyes, and sunglasses completely around in a Kyriotate bow. "Most
Holy! You look *mahvelous*."
The Seraph sings, "Thank you, my friend. Daimonique, Chephirah, you seem troubled."
Hitherby blinks.
Sarah blinks at the Seraph, and tries to identify him, her, or it.
Daimon says "No no, we're not troubled. We're just fine."
Hitherby peers. "Yah, hey, you *do* sort of look like Daimonique. Hey, baby, you didn't eat
something bad for you, did you?"
The Seraph sings, "You are troubled, but I trust you to maintain the Promise." He spreads his
wings, rising into the sky.
Hitherby says "I mean, all things are of the Lord, but poisonous fruit is, well, sort of shuffling its
feet about it."
Daimon says "The, um. Promise?"
Sarah blinks slowly. Pauses.
Hitherby waves. "Ciao, Focs!"
The Seraph pauses, mid-air. He says, patiently, "The Promise which my Archangel upholds."
Daimon looks at Sarah. He looks... confused.
Sarah paces forward, puts a wing between Daimon and the biggest chunk of Heaven she can, and
starts edging back toward the Portal.
Daimon gets edged backwards.
Sarah tries, however briefly, to look positive about Time and patient with this Lilim.
Daimon just looks spooked.
Hitherby says, "Dears, if you need *that* explained to you, you skipped elementary school."
Sarah says "It's all right. Daimonique just had a little... shock. She'll be perfectly fine, given a little
time."
Daimon says "We, um.... I'm going to do a little research on this portal thing."
Hitherby says "I hope so! We don't *get* many Bright Malakim, and we can't afford to have them
turning green."
Hitherby says "I mean, talk about loss of PR value, baby."
Hitherby says "Not that you don't look *good*. It's just, well."
Daimon says "Bright Malakim?"
Hitherby shrugs many shoulders.
Sarah edge. Edge edge. "Don't worry." She pats Daimon with a wingtip. "I'm keeping an eye on
her."
Daimon looks very confused.
Hitherby peers at Daimon, and then suddenly brightens. "I'm on camera, aren't I."
Hitherby spins around, looking in every direction. "Okay, okay, I've figured it out. Come on out,
guys."
Daimon whispers to Sarah, "I'm confused."
Hitherby sort of reflexively poses for best advantage at various points on the spin.
Sarah takes advantage of the distraction to make a RUN for the Portal.
Daimon RUNS, as well.
The portal shimmers, as they plunge through...
<
... and they stand before the high Judgement Spires, all elegant in gold and rainbow crystal.
Sarah shudders, and tells Daimon, "Nybbas as an Archangel. The Promise, the Bright version of
the Game."
A Kyriotate floats nearby.
Sarah tries to keep this down well enough not to be overheard.
Daimon says "That's really bizarre. Scary."
Hitherby's cold metal eyes brighten ever-so-slightly as she sees her friends emerge.
Hitherby blinks. *click*
Daimon looks around, and then looks at Hitherby. When did Hitherby get... oh no.
Hitherby says, multitonally, "Daimon! Sarah! Hey there."
Sarah twitches. Wings and all.
Sarah says "Ah... hello, dear."
Daimon says "Um, hi Hitherby."
Hitherby says "What brings you up to Heaven?"
Daimon says "We're trying to get, um, home. Yeah. That."
Hitherby's hands, underneath her body, are reflexively sorting through a large pile of papers,
bringing each one up to a pair of eyes for a moment, then setting it down. Another hand, one
finger replaced by a metal prosthesis, touches various buttons on a black box that flickers with
lights.
Hitherby smiles slowly. "Well, here you are."
Hitherby blinks a few times. *clickclickclick*
Sarah murmurs, "In a manner of speaking."
Hitherby tidies the papers, *shuffshuff*, and then floats over towards the portal.
Hitherby says, with exquisite calm, "Fascinating."
Daimon peers at the papers.
<
Hitherby consults her memory on portal discs.
Hitherby's papers appear to be summaries of the information gathered thus far by Our Heroes,
although it would take a more detailed look to determine degree of correspondence.
Daimon picks up a paper and reads it.
The paper appears to be a report of how Phineas, Servitor of Yves, investigated a Tether of
Nightmares.
Daimon puts the paper down, and scoots back toward Sarah.
Sarah offers Daimon a wing.
Hitherby says, precisely, "Please move away from the phenomenon. These artifacts are highly
dangerous." She tilts one eye sideways, studying it. "Lightning has forbidden experimentation.
Perhaps you could come with me to inform my Bright Lord."
Sarah says "Yes, we've become aware of just how dangerous they can be."
Daimon whispers to Sarah, "In this universe, Phineas might actually be cool."
Sarah whispers back to Daimon, "Are you sure that you'd like to take the risk, given a prosthetic
Hitherby?"
Daimon whispers to Sarah, "I want to go home."
Sarah whispers to Daimon, "We could try..."
Daimon nods. Is going to follow Sarah's lead.
Hitherby gives off a melodic ticking, like a metronome. "I do not wish to waste time; this is a
matter of some urgency."
Daimon says "You want us to see... Jordi?"
Hitherby bobs in the air. "If you are not busy, I would appreciate the company. I also must
consider the possibility that the phenomenon was associated with you, or that you were
experimenting therewith; while I have no jurisdiction over you, I would nevertheless appreciate
cooperation.
Daimon says "What is Jordi the Archangel... of?"
Hitherby's metronome ticking grows slightly faster. "His Word is a broad one, governing many
natural processes and most artificial ones; it is most commonly rendered as Lightning."
Daimon looks at Sarah.
Sarah looks back at Daimon.
Hitherby moves towards the two, and reaches out one hand to take each one by theirs.
Daimon says "I... guess we can go see Jordi..."
Sarah fortunately does not have hands to be taken.
Daimon does. A hand is taken.
Sarah says "It might be advisable."
Hitherby sets her hand on Sarah's neck, and brushes backwards for a moment; save for the metal
finger, it is as warm and affectionate as the last Heavenly cuddlepile. "Come, then."
Daimon is lead by Hitherby.
Hitherby moves her hand away from Sarah, having no grip -- it would be insulting to hold her
wing -- and drifts towards the Halls of Progress.
It is not hard to reach the Halls of Progress. Heaven seems much as ever. The Halls of Creation,
as they are passed, are pure ivory and gold, high and beautiful.
Hitherby stops a reliever, en route, and sends it back to pick up her papers and black box.
Sarah purrs a little at the brush, and gives in enough to touch Hitherby's hand with a wing before
following.
The reliever darts off cheerfully on the task.
Daimon looks at the Halls of Creation when they pass.
Hitherby says, casually, "I am surprised I had not mentioned my affiliation heretofore."
At the Halls of Progress, there is a Seraph sitting at the position of appointment secretary - a
familiar Seraph.
Daimon . o O ( ? )
<
<
The Seraph says, briskly, "Names and Archangels, please."
Hitherby bows in rotation, while a mouth off to the side murmurs, "Oboth, of Lightning."
Daimon says "Daimonique of Creation. I'm an Eli hanger-on. I hope."
Hitherby glances at Daimon, oddly approving.
The Seraph triple-blinks rapidly. "You are in service to Judgement?"
Daimon says "Right now I am."
The Seraph nods, and murmurs, "In service to Eli," as it taps the computer keys.
Daimon says "No no no no. I'm a Creationer in the service to Judgment. I know it's WEIRD, but
it's how it is."
Sarah says mildly, "Chephirah of Destiny," and offers up a small player and does not mention any
names.
Sarah taps Daimon with a wingtip.
Daimon hushes.
The Seraph blinks at Daimon again. "Yes, Daimonique. Bright Lilim of Creation in service to
Judgement. As I have said."
Daimon . o O ( Uh oh. )
Daimon bites a lower lip. Chew chew chew.
Hitherby says, calmly, "I believe Daimonique is suffering from the malign effects of a portal
disc."
The Seraph nods to Sarah, and taps into the computer. "Thank you very much."
Hitherby adds, "I was not aware of these, but I am not normally cleared for such
investigations."
The Seraph blinks again. "I thought that our Bright Lord had forbidden such
experimentation!"
Daimon doesn't say anything. Is too busy chewing a lip. Chew chew.
Hitherby inclines several eyes. "Someone has broken that prohibition, I believe."
Daimon says "We, um...."
Daimon looks at Sarah.
The Seraph nods, and taps the keys. "I will add that datum to the request for audience." A
moment later, she says, "You have clearance. Please go in."
Hitherby blinks, *click*, bows, says, "Most Holy," and drifts forward.
The blank white door in the wall slides open.
Sarah looks back at Daimon, mildly helpless, and folds her wings and tries not to slink.
Daimon follows Hitherby... tentatively, while holding onto Sarah.
Hitherby coughs once, and then taps hard on her chest several times. Something hums, building
up to a steady purr, and then quiets.
Hitherby looks faintly embarrassed.
Inside is a wide and airy room, filled with complicated and intricate keyboards and experiments.
A Kyriotate drifts at the centre, haloed and iridescing with lightning.
Hitherby sinks to the floor and lowers all save two eyes. "Great One."
Sarah is held on to. She is somewhat cheered by this, in typical Cherub fashion. And she tries
/hard/ not to stare at seeing a Kyrio rather than an Elohite.
Daimon just stares.
Sarah remembers to wing-bow, but it takes a moment.
The Kyriotate turns a pair of eyes towards the angels. Then more, and more, till a dozen eyes are
regarding them. There is a faint air of curiosity.
The Kyriotate says, voice heavy with the crackle of lightning, "While you resemble the Servitors
Daimonique and Chephirah, certain factors make it evident that you are not of our universe. An
explanation is required."
Daimon says "We fell through a portal! Um.... Great One."
Hitherby blinks the two upheld eyes. *click-click*.
Sarah says softly, "Essentially so."
Hitherby . o O ( Once again, I am insufficiently perceptive. A terrible embarrassment. )
<
Jordi says, "Interesting and fascinating. However, I deduce that you find certain matters
unexpected here, from your demeanour."
Daimon . o O ( It's better then where we've been. )
Hitherby notes, "For reference, Great One, they appeared where I was working, coordinates
A254-372-FA-3754. The portal was local."
Daimon says "Yes, sir."
A pair of hands extrude from Jordi to manipulate a set of keyboards. Lights flicker on the
screen.
Jordi says, "Interesting. My calculations hypothesise that any journey of this nature must be
circular. You would have to move through more than one potentiality to reach your own
universe."
Sarah shivers.
Sarah says, naively, "I suppose they can't be worse than the last two."
Jordi quotes a mathematical formula. "How many have you traversed thus far?"
Daimon says "But can we ever go home?"
<
Daimon counts. "Three."
<
Jordi blinks several eyes. "Certainly it is within your capabilities. I would hypothesise a minimum
of one universe and a probable average maximum of a dozen or so before you should reach your
own again."
Daimon looks at Sarah. "So we have to go through a few more times, sir?"
Jordi says, "It would appear probable. Do you feel able to do this?"
Hitherby . o O ( Blue smoke. I possess key cosmological information, which may revolutionize
Daimon holds onto Sarah.
Jordi says, "As Oboth has been made aware of this, I will second it to the theoretical team
investigating the subject."
Daimon says "Yes, sir. I think we can go through again."
Pat has connected.
Jordi says, "It is likely to dissipate from this universe after you have passed through. You should
probably not need to fear followers from universes already traversed."
<
Sarah leans her head toward Daimon. "As long as we do not again encounter an Archangel of the
Media, I think we'll be fine."
Hitherby bobs slightly, scraping the floor with the faint crish of metal on metal, heavily muffled
by Kyriotate-stuff. "Great One," she acknowledges; thanking him for a logical decision would be
insulting, tempting as it is.
Jordi says, "Oboth, you may escort them to the portal disc."
Hitherby begins busily recording notes on what she has already observed on the magnetic tape
that runs through her Ethereal Forces.
Hitherby bobs again, takes Daimon's hand, and leads them outside.
Daimon gets a hand taken, and goes willingly.
Sarah goes with the Attuned. Cherubim are /fine/ as long as they have One Thing or Person to
stick with.
Hitherby reflects, as she leads them unerringly back to the portal, "I wonder what would happen
if you were to meet yourself."
<
<
Sarah says "I'd probably have a minor fit."
Hitherby clicks. "If by some means you have supplanted the Daimon and Chephirah of this world,"
she says, "so that I will not be seeing them again in three and a half days, please fare thee
well."
Hitherby stops by the portal.
Daimon says "What's with three and a half days?"
The portal continues to flicker and glow.
Hitherby blinks. *click* "It is my scheduled time to return to Earth. My new assignment will not
interfere, although it may briefen the event. Three days, ten hours, forty-two minutes,
seventy-eight seconds."
Daimon says "Oh. Cool."
Sarah says "I do hope you'll see them again then."
Daimon tugs on Sarah. Let's go.
Sarah is tugged, and goes.
And the portal spins...
... and they are elsewhere. Standing in front of the Judgement Spires, high in stark gold and ivory.
An Elohite and a Kyriotate are nearby, perhaps in conversation.
Daimon peers, and peers at Sarah, and then peers at people again.
<
Sarah blinks at Elohite and Kyriotate, puts a paw up to the scarf about her throat, and keeps
within arm's reach of Daimon.
Hitherby says, reflectively, "Chlorine gas has many advantages, agreed; still, I think that the old
methods -- fire and flood -- work the best."
Daimon waves tentatively. "Hi."
Hitherby glances up at Sarah and Daimon. "Greetings in God," she says, and smiles.
Daimon looks around for weirdness.
Mazpatiel turns to face the two and looks at Daimon for a very long time. "Where have you
been?"
Daimon . o O ( Is this home, or the Twilight Zone? )
<
Daimon says "We've, um, been in other dimensions."
Hitherby is pretty much the same old Hitherby, although a blade sheathed in an ornate scrolled
leather case rests within arm's reach on the gleaming Heaven ground.
Hitherby says, amused, "What, depth?"
Sarah blinks toward Hitherby, blade, and Mazpatiel. "One... might say."
Daimon says "Um, Hitherby? Um, why do you have a sword?"
Hitherby says, "Breadth was always my favorite."
Hitherby's side eye meets one of Mazpatiel's. In orientation, not tactilely.
Mazpatiel says "Other dimensions. I see. Daimonique, we're very late for the briefing, you know.
Chephirah, I suggest you return to the Groves as well."
Sarah says, cautiously, "To the... Groves?"
Daimon says "Groves?"
Hitherby says, "You know. With the trees and stuff."
Daimon says "I've never been to the Groves before. Er, why are we going to the Groves,
Pat?"
Mazpatiel considers Hitherby for a moment, a hand falling to the blade at its own hip. It turns
back to Daimon. "You are not. You and I are returning to the Spires. Chephirah reports to the
Groves, as is normal. Are you feeling alright?"
Hitherby assesses angles. The eye facing Pat flicks sharply downwards, in the general direction
of Daimon's lower legs. Then it returns up, and blinks cutely.
Daimon looks for a long time at Pat's sword. "Sarah?"
Sarah says aside to Daimon, "An average maximum of eleven to go?"
Daimon starts inching back toward the portal. "Uh... it's been nice seeing you guys... really..."
Mazpatiel tilts its head. "I beg your pardon?"
Daimon walks backward faster to the portal, tugging on Sarah.
Hitherby, in a single motion, the instant Daimon inches back, picks up her sword and tosses it
*hard* to foul his legs and trip him. If it does some minor damage, well, this is an emergency.
Daimon falls over. Wumph.
Sarah leaps to guard him!
Hitherby's sword is sheathed, of course, so it doesn't cut.
Mazpatiel rises up into the air, Singing out what sounds like a warning as it moves towards Sarah
and Daimon.
Daimon starts crawling backwards toward the portal. "Sarah! Run!"
Sarah stands her ground between Mazpatiel and Daimon. "There's no need for this!"
Hitherby tumbles, rolling, towards Sarah, in an attempt to knock her off-balance. Although, of
course, Hitherby is not the fastest soul when not on Earth.
Dark-winged forms come drifting from a higher window of the Spires, their distance making their
movement seem almost leisurely as they drift downwards.
Daimon scrambles to get up.
Mazpatiel says "Of course there's not." It draws the sword, but holds it low as the Malakim
descend behind. "All you need do is confess, and explain how the Adversary inserted you within
Heaven."
Hitherby sings calmly, as she tumbles -- Kyriotates multiprocess well, by definition -- "I think
some sort of mental control is more likely; observe the still-Cherubic behavior."
Daimon tugs Sarah backwards toward the portal.
Hitherby then slams into Sarah, unless avoided; and she *is* strong, if slow-moving.
Sarah paces back, if and as she can. "No mental control is involved. And, given half an
opportunity, we'll be out of your way."
Mazpatiel ponders this. "True. In that case, we may be able to rescue you. Please, just
cooperate."
The Malakim drop closer now, swords drawn, great black wings outspread. They hover, waiting
on Mazpatiel's word.
<
Daimon starts to run for the portal again.
<
Mazpatiel lifts a radiant hand to gesture to the portal. "Don't let them leave."
A Malakite drops directly between Daimon and the portal, sword aflame. Her eyes are cold and
hard.
<
Sarah is, thus, knocked. "Daimon!"
Daimon runs right into the Malakite, and all the air is knocked out of her little Lilim body.
Wumph.
Mazpatiel directs two Malakim to assist Hitherby if she requires it, and paces towards
Daimonique, sword still held low.
Hitherby attempts to get a grip on Sarah; this Hitherby does *not* hesitate to grab the sensitive
wings.
The Malakite stands over Daimon, sword still drawn. Two other Malakim follow Pat's directions,
moving to encircle Sarah.
Daimon gulps.
Sarah looks over to the Malakite standing ominously over Daimon, and ceases any struggle.
Mazpatiel slides its sword into the sheath. "Daimonique."
Daimon is looking up at the scary Malakite with the burning sword.
Daimon says "Yes, Pat?"
Mazpatiel says "How, precisely, did you get here?"
Daimon says "Through the portal."
Hitherby billows out momentarily, then shrinks back in, the sign of a Kyriotate momentarily
forgetting that their resonance is useless in Heaven. Then she settles by Sarah, and another hand
feels an apparently random spot of fur. "No scar," she murmurs thoughtfully. "Of course, one
never knows when Shannen will decide to waste Essence on a healing."
Mazpatiel says "And the portal came from where, precisely?"
Sarah says aside to Hitherby, "I don't have any scars that I can think of offhand."
Daimon says "Another universe. We're trying to get _home_."
Hitherby reflects. "Most Holy," she says, towards one of the Malakim, "could you study her
honor?"
Sarah /blinks/.
The Malakite bows his head, and paces round to look Sarah in the eyes.
Sarah's eyes are very very wide.
Mazpatiel looks down at Daimonique, thoughtfully. "Good Lord. What have they done to
you?"
The Malakite says, his voice like smooth edged glass, "I can sense little, but I see her honourable
protection of this Lilim, and of others. She has not as yet committed any great sin."
Daimon says "No one has done anything to us! We fell through this portal, and it took us to a
universe where it was ending, and then another where Nybbas was an Archangel, and then were
Jordi was the Archangel of Lightning and now.... here."
The Malakim exchange glances.
Daimon says "And it's very scary here. We'd like to try again, please."
Mazpatiel says "I'm afraid we can't allow that, my friend."
Daimon says "Why not? We don't belong here."
Hitherby frowns with many mouths. "An enigma. Perhaps extensive Habbalite and Balseraph
work, the healing of which also removed the scars from -- well -- the previous
Habbalite/Balseraph work?
Mazpatiel says "That can be corrected, Daimonique. But we cannot allow this portal to be used
until Jean's troops have had a chance to properly investigate. We cannot allow the Adversary to
locate a possible weakness within Heaven."
Hitherby says, as if parroting something, "There are no weaknesses in Heaven."
Daimon looks confused.
Sarah attempts, successful or no, to edge toward Daimon. She shivers.
Mazpatiel says "Through our vigilance, Oboth."
The Malakim bar Sarah's way, though not unkindly.
Daimon says "Jean's troops?"
Hitherby grins here and there. "And that of the Most Holy. But yes; Jean," a faint hiccough, as
if the word were objectionable, "should be consulted."
Mazpatiel nods. "We will contact Sephar. Its brigade is specialized in such business."
Sarah says, faintly, "Sephar has a... brigade?"
Daimon imagines Sephar with a brigade.
Daimon gets as far as SepharMouse with a bucket.
Hitherby stretches out across the distance and retrieves her sword with the tips of her fingers.
Daimon tries to crawl over to Sarah.
Mazpatiel allows Daimon to crawl.
Sarah reaches a wing toward Daimon, presuming the Malakim do not intercept.
The Malakite standing over Daimon sheathes her sword, watching.
The two Malakim let Sarah extend a wing towards Daimon. All, however, have half an eye
towards the portal disc, in the case of attempted bolts for it.
Hitherby says, "The Sword favors Sephar well; Laurence can always use tacticians with an
understanding of the modern world."
Daimon finishes crawling over to Sarah, and curls up behind the wing. She whispers, "We gotta
make it to that portal."
Daimon feels around in pockets, and has a pad of paper, three pens, a paper clip, and two
beanies.
<
Sarah wraps her wing around Daimon, gentle, and murmurs back, "Perhaps we can arrange
something with Sephar."
Hitherby hears nothing of Daimon's whisper.
<
Mazpatiel likewise hears nothing.
One of the Malakim turns to Mazpatiel. "Should we take them to the holding cells to await
examination, sir?"
Mazpatiel says "We have as yet no confirmation that we have anything but an addled agent before
us, Most Holy. A cell is not yet necessary."
Mazpatiel says "To do so would be an insult to Daimonique's previous accomplishments."
Sarah's wing stays wrapped. Oh yes.
The Malakite nods, folding its wings. "Then the hospitals of the Great Healer?"
Daimon doesn't even want to know.
Mazpatiel nods. "That will suit."
The Malakite jerks his head towards the floating portal disc. "And... that?"
The Malakite says, "Should we attempt to destroy it?"
Sarah says "It might be more efficient to keep us moderately close, should Sephar wish
information from us. I understand, however, your worries."
Mazpatiel says "Guard it well. I do not presume to understand it, though Lightning may."
Hitherby rummages around in her cloud-mass, and pulls out a book. "Salting the Earth: the
Unwounded Stone," it reads, with the author being Terethel. She passes it to Sarah. "I understand
that you would feel lost without reading material, if you should be confined."
The Malakite nods to Mazpatiel. Two others step to either side of the portal, postures wary.
Hitherby adds, "Or hospitalized," thoughtfully.
Mazpatiel walks back to Daimonique and Sarah. "Come along."
Daimon says "I don't want to go to the hospital! I'm not crazy! Well, not any more crazy then I
was last week! I want to stay here with Sarah!"
Daimon clutches Sarah.
Mazpatiel says "You'll be with Chephirah. But we cannot allow you to stay here."
Daimon says "But but but-"
Sarah takes it, cautiously. "Thank you, Oboth." She keeps her wing firmly and warmly about
Daimon. "It will be all right, dear."
Mazpatiel says "This is not open for debate, Daimonique."
Daimon says "I'm _not_ crazy."
Mazpatiel says "That will be ascertained by the Healers."
Hitherby says, thoughtfully, "I will report to the Sword, Mazpatiel?"
One of the Malakim gives Mazpatiel a "shall we pick him up and carry him?" look.
Mazpatiel nods to Hitherby.
Sarah says, gently, "Come along, Daimon."
Hitherby releases Sarah's wing and darts off into the distance. Well, darts at Hitherspeeds.
Sarah says "I'll be right here."
Daimon bites her lower lip. Chew chew chew.
Sarah nudges very gently.
Mazpatiel says "Daimonique. I would not wish to demean your name or position by requesting
that you be carried to the Glade."
Daimon slowly gets out of the curled up position behind Sarah's wing and stands, brushing off her
grey suit.
Sarah keeps her wing around Daimon, even standing.
Mazpatiel nods, and guides the two in the direction of the Glade, on hand still on its sword.
Sarah keeps a wing curled about Daimon, reassuringly.
As you travel through the Eternal City, the occasional well-disciplined group of angels or blessed
souls passes you, step firm and decisive.
Daimon looks around as they pass.
Mazpatiel nods curtly to an officer-looking Seraph.
The Seraph returns the nod, precisely.
The Glade looks - reassuringly normal. Green, luxuriant, healthy. The Malakim move through it
toward a pavilion-like building in marble that stands near the centre, looped and latticed with
roses and vines.
<
Daimon keeps a hand on Sarah.
<
<
Two Cherubim at the door straighten briskly. One inquires of Mazpatiel, "How many wounded,
sir?"
Sarah shifts her head, once or twice, to peer down at her scarf, then back to Mazpatiel.
Daimon chews a lip. Chew chew chew.
Mazpatiel says "Two, unwounded but in an uncertain state. Daimonique of Judgment, and her
Guardian. I fear they may have been...polluted."
The Cherub nods. "We have some spaces in the security quarters, sir, if that would be
adequate?"
Mazpatiel says "That would suit, yes."
The Cherub nods, and whistles. A small reliever comes fluttering, and hovers in the air, clearly
ready to act as a guide.
Daimon holds onto Sarah more tightly.
Sarah shifts this time to lean her head against Daimon, with a low, reassuring purr.
Mazpatiel nods to the Cherub, and directs the Malakim to escort Daimon and Sarah after the
reliever.
Hitherby appears in the sky in the distance, moving along a long speedy arc at speeds somewhat
faster than Hitherby is nominally capable of. Perhaps Heaven is just being congenial on that
speed/distance thing, or perhaps she has been catapulted as a time-saving measure.
<
Daimon looks to either side at the Malakim. They don't seem so sexy anymore.
<
The reliever leads the way through the marble corridors, to a door set into the wall. There is no
lock on the outside visible. The Malakim follow behind, not pressing their presence, but ...
there.
Sarah says quietly, "Thank you," to the reliever.
The reliever bobs its head with a little musical gurgle, and flutters away.
Daimon looks at the door. "Is this a hospital room?"
Mazpatiel says "In a way." It pushes open the door, and gestures inside. "Please."
The reliever pauses. It sings, in a high fluty voice, "It is, sir."
Daimon pauses. Closed locked doors are bad news for Lilim.
Hitherby flutters into view down the hall, looking somewhat flat.
<
Inside it is light and airy. Wide glass windows look out on the Glade beyond. There are big
squishy chairs, a large squishy bed, smooth-cornered bookcases, and a jug with something
alcoholic-looking.
Daimon hesitates.
Sarah peeks back at the Kyrio.
Mazpatiel looks at Hitherby. "You have reported to the Sword?"
The Malakim wait patiently.
Hitherby brakes by Mazpatiel. "I have," she flutes, trying to catch her breath via other mouths.
"I have been requested to observe, in the Sword's name. In case the -- in case the effect on them
represents something unusual that should be prepared for."
Daimon, not knowing what to do, enters the room and settles in one of hte big squishy chairs.
The reliever flutters off down the corridor again.
Sarah twitches a wing, not /quite/ shivering, and paces in to join Daimon, settling down beside
him.
Mazpatiel lets Hitherby enter, then walks into the room last, closing the door.
Hitherby finishes catching her breath, and then sucks in a really really big breath, until she inflates
back to full roundness with a *pop* noise.
Daimon looks up at Mazpatiel.
Sarah rubs the side of her head against Daimon's knee.
<
<
<
Mazpatiel sits down, resting the sword across its lap.
Daimon attains the patented Daimonique arms crossed across the chest, looking upset Look.
Mazpatiel says "Now. Would you care to talk about what happened?"
Daimon says "Not really."
Mazpatiel says "Why not?"
Daimon says "What is there to say?"
Mazpatiel says "I am unconvinced that your last assignment didn't affect you unduly."
Daimon says "My last assignment?"
Sarah murmurs, "One might say that," and fluffs her wings.
Hitherby says, "Are you concerned about observation? I assure you, only the highest authorities
have access to the listening devices."
Daimon looks around. Oh man, this sucks.
Sarah says "Shall I tell you what our last assignment was, then?"
Sabriel has connected.
Mazpatiel says "That would be a start, yes."
Daimon hopes that Sarah can make something cool up.
Sarah settles, folding her wings more securely. "We went out from Heaven - a Heaven that was
not this Heaven - to give aid to a - place - on the verge of the final battles of the War."
Mazpatiel listens, neutral.
Daimon nods at what Sarah says.
Mazpatiel says "And Nightmare?"
Sarah twitches a wing. "We have not, to our knowledge, so far encountered them. On this
particular journey."
Mazpatiel says "Then your assignment was completely neglected?"
Daimon says "Pat, can you tell us what the assignment was?"
Mazpatiel says "Nothing that should have been beyond your capabilities, Daimon."
Sarah murmurs, "That was our most recent assignment. The aid, not Nightmare." Wing-twitch.
"You see, perhaps, the problem."
Daimon says "We came through the portal. If you'd let us go back through, then there would be
no problems."
Mazpatiel says "I see the discrepancies, yes."
Daimon says "I bet that your own Daimon and Sarah might pop up, mission complete, at any
second."
Mazpatiel says "Our own?"
Sarah says "Yes."
Hitherby stiffens slightly, perhaps. It's difficult to tell, with Kyriotates.
Daimon says "I think that, in every universe we go to, there's likely another one of us running
around. The right one of us. Unless.... we displace them."
Hitherby says, "One of you in Hell, one of you in the Marches, one of you on Earth ... one of you
in Heaven?"
Sarah blinks slowly. "Not quite, Hitherby."
Mazpatiel's hand slides quietly onto its sword. "Please explain."
Sarah says "We in our own Heaven, which is like this Heaven and unlike. Less regimented,
perhaps; less martial."
Daimon says "We keep passing through this gate, and it takes us to other universes. We're trying
to get home, which is not here. We were told by the Jordi in the last universe that if we keep on
trying it, we'll eventually get home."
Sarah pauses, and nods to Daimon.
Hitherby says, slowly, "Jordi told you this."
Hitherby says, "You work for Jordi, then, in this -- 'your own Heaven'?"
Sarah says "No."
Sarah says "I am a servitor of Destiny; Daimonique, of Creation, in service to Judgment."
Daimon nods at this.
Mazpatiel says "Destiny relinquished your service to War some time ago, Chephirah."
Sarah says quietly, "Not where I am from. It was not necessary, and it would not have been
objectively useful."
Daimon says "Sarah working for War?"
There is a rap at the door.
Mazpatiel says "You realize that you are confessing to dup..."
Mazpatiel turns to the door. "Come in."
The door swings open, and a Seraph enters, wings riffling the air behind him. It is Jordan - but
Jordan in armour, and with a cool bleakness in his eyes that was never there in Sarah and
Daimon's world.
Jordan says, calmly, "I had your message, Mazpatiel."
Daimon opens eyes wide, looking, well, disturbed.
Sarah blinks at Jordan, slow, and leans her head closer against Daimon's legs.
Mazpatiel nods. "I had considered your interest in the subject, Jordan. Please, join us."
Jordan inclines his head, and slips into a slow curl around one of the beanbags, as the door closes
quietly.
Jordan says, "Daimonique. I understand that we have a matter of altered memories?"
<
<
<
Daimon says "Um, no one has altered my memories Jordan. Are you okay?"
<
Jordan's eyes abruptly all go wide, and his wings fan out in a sudden stir. One might almost think
he were afraid.
Jordan says, voice very sharp, like crystal and glass, "Daimonique, where are you from? Who do
you serve?"
Sarah lifts her head, startled. "Jordan, are you all right?"
Mazpatiel frowns, very faintly.
Daimon says "I'm from, er, Hell originally, actually. Shal-Mari, Guildhall district. I've still got my
address laying around, although it's not valid anymore. I serve Creation, and I'm in the service to
Judgment."
Jordan's wings keep twitching in the air, back and forth.
Daimon says "I've finally figured out that I don't actually serve Eli, I serve Creation as a whole,
but I'm sort of new at this still."
Jordan says, to Mazpatiel, "The Symphony declares that he speaks truth - but that it was not
_our_ Shal-Mari."
Mazpatiel says "I'm afraid I don't follow, Jordan."
Jordan says, voice like breaking glass, "The Symphony declares that he is not of our world. This
cannot be." He hesitates. "Perhaps it is the influence of a Balseraph Prince..."
Mazpatiel rises, very slowly. "I see."
Daimon says "Er, I'm allergic to Balseraph Princes. I break out in running very fast."
Jordan says, "This must be brought to the attention of the Most Just. For one of our highest
agents to be in such a position..."
Mazpatiel nods. "She may be compromised. I am sorry, Jordan. I know this cannot be easy for
you."
Sarah blinks, slowly. "Highest? In three weeks? I am im..."
Sarah blinks at Mazpatiel, and tries not to stare.
Daimon is totally confused.
Jordan says, voice becoming more calm, "I have always understood that personal considerations
could not affect my duty. I will bear word to the Most Just, and beg his presence."
Mazpatiel nods. "Go, then."
Daimon chews a lip. Chew chew chew chew chew.
Jordan nods, and turns to the door. It closes behind him silently.
Daimon would bamf out of here, but that would leave Sarah behind, a serious no-go.
Mazpatiel turns back to Daimon and Sarah.
Daimon says "Pat, what is going on?"
Mazpatiel says "We are concerned, Daimonique. You may have been compromised while
infiltrating Bellman's."
Daimon says "Pat, I got into Bellman's and out just fine. I was with Aron. Although this was in
a different universe."
Mazpatiel blinks. "Taroniel has not been to Earth in some time. A member of Laurence's honour
guard does not have the time for such assignments."
Daimon blinks. Woah. That's one to bring back to Aron, for sure. "Then, um, I don't know what
to tell you."
Mazpatiel nods. "I expected as much."
Hitherby floats placidly. "Seraphim perceive the truth directly from the Symphony, as I understand
it?"
Sarah nods toward Hitherby, slowly. "As I understand it, as well."
Daimon sinks into the poofy squishy chair a little more. "This is a room designed so I don't hurt
myself, isn't it."
Mazpatiel says "At least one of the Adversary has demonstrated the ability to alter the Symphony.
And yes, it is."
Hitherby says "Is it possible for there to be some sort of Symphonic corruption around them? That
this is what they perceive as travel between universes, and what confused the Inquisitor?"
Daimon hrms. "You think I'm gonna get the depression again?"
Hitherby says "The effect on their minds would then be a side effect of long term exposure."
Sarah nudges Daimon's leg. "No, dear. At least, I sincerely hope not."
Hitherby says "Or, perhaps, short-term."
Mazpatiel says "It's possible. The Most Just will be able to settle the matter."
Sarah says "It would have to be long-term indeed; my memories are consistent, and I am not
particularly newly-fledged."
Hitherby says, "Oddly enough, a reflection in a warped mirror looks to be of a piece."
Daimon says "Look, we haven't made anything up. We're telling the truth."
Sarah nudges Daimon's knee again. "It's all right, dear. The Most Just will."
<
<
Mazpatiel says "Daimonique. I have no doubts that you believe your words. But they quite simply
do not fit into reality."
Mazpatiel says "Something is misaligned. There is no balance."
Sarah concedes, "And it is simpler to believe that two angels have been deceived than that one's
picture of reality is incomplete."
Hitherby says, calmly, "We have simple solutions to such things in the wild."
Mazpatiel says "Simpler, and far more likely. Oboth, we are not /in/ the wild. Need I remind you
of your current service?"
Daimon says "Or you can wait until Sephar's report on the portal shows up, and proves we're not
crazy."
Sarah smiles to Hitherby, utterly warm.
Hitherby says, seriously, "I am well aware of my current service. Yet I am also aware of my
nature. I am nature, hammered into a sword. The nonessential bits -- the fluffy little puppies -- I
accept that those are winnowed away. But I assure you, the ways
of the wild also serve the War."
Mazpatiel nods, apparently satisfied.
Daimon blinks at Hitherby.
Daimon says "Where I come from Hitherby, you serve Jordi of Animals. You are one with the
beasts and the creatures. And it's pretty goddamn cool."
Sarah murmurs, "Dragonflies."
Hitherby looks faintly amused.
Daimon says "Our Hitherby wants to become the Angel of Dragonflies."
Hitherby says "What, I'm supposed to mob the Calabim with dragonflies? And what then?
*Headbutt* them?"
Mazpatiel chuckles, looking at Hitherby. "It sounds very cute."
Hitherby says "Plink-plink-plink-plink... well, lots of plinks?"
Daimon says "Um.... I dunno. It seems to work well there, though."
Sarah says "More, if I recall, like one very, very powerful plink. I believe you broke its neck, if
I remember correctly."
Hitherby says "I have hopes of becoming the Angel of the Sting one day -- although I know that
the Great One holds it in reserve, knowing that it will spur so many of his Dominations to greater
efforts."
Daimon says "Who do you work for here, Hitherby?"
Mazpatiel says "Indeed."
Hitherby says "Still, one may always distinguish oneself."
Hitherby blinks at Daimon.
Daimon says "I really don't know."
Hitherby says "It's a complicated question. Balak of the Chicago Devastation, Ebed-Melech the
Hawk Blade, the Great One, or m'Lord Laurence of the Sword, depending on which hat I'm
wearing."
Sarah says "The... Chicago Devastation?"
Daimon says "Oh. Laurence. Very interesting."
A light begins to burn at the centre of the room, and a growing silence spreads with it - a tangible
thing in itself - as the light pulses brighter, clearer.
Hitherby smiles proudly. "I played a small part in that. A million swarms -- one hammer, against
the demon-infested cit --"
Daimon scoots back in the chair at the light.
Hitherby cuts herself off and assumes a respectful position.
Mazpatiel stands stock straight and silent.
There is a single moment of full silence, and then a great Seraph coils at the centre of the room,
scales diamond-bright, eyes onyx-black, holes in space.
Sarah straightens, taking her head away from Daimon's lap.
Sarah wing-bows, mute.
The Seraph's wings spread like webs of living light, as it slowly regards Daimon and Sarah.
Mazpatiel bows its head. "My Lord."
Daimon pulls his butt out of the chair and resumes the on knees prostate head to floor position.
It's always a safe one.
Dominic's voice is like a bass viol, clear and dark. "They are not of this world," it sings. "It is as
the Symphony spoke to Jordan."
Mazpatiel says "I do not understand, Lord."
Dominic sings, "It will be explained to you. Suffice it that they are not the Daimonique and
Chephirah who you know. Escort them to their portal that they may go."
Mazpatiel says "Yes, Lord."
Dominique's voice deepens. "Fare in justice, children of both worlds." With a growing flare, he
is gone.
Hitherby salutes smartly, sword making a little 'thonk' noise as the scabbard thunks into her
cloud.
Sarah lowers her wing over Daimon, as the flare fades.
Hitherby chews on her lips.
Hitherby says, "Er, yes, well."
Daimon sits back up and sighs.
Hitherby coughs.
Hitherby says "Sorry about all the trouble, wot?"
Mazpatiel says "Um. Er, yes."
Sarah extends her free wing toward the both of them. Laughing, gentle and warm.
Daimon gets up onto his feet.
Hitherby touches the wing with a hand.
Mazpatiel rubs the back of its head. "You understand, of course. War and all that."
Daimon says "Sure."
Mazpatiel says "Oh. Good. Jordan's going to be crushed, though."
Daimon says "I'm sure your Daimonique is fine."
Sarah says "Or relieved, quite possibly -"
Sarah nods to Daimon.
Hitherby says, thoughtfully, "You returned from Bellman's, you said?"
Mazpatiel nods. "Your kind are rarer still, since the death of Freedom. We cannot lose any
more."
Daimon says in a strangled voice, "Death of Freedom? My mother is dead?"
Mazpatiel blinks.
Hitherby says, "Perhaps on the way you can tell us what you discovered. Although, of cour--"
Mazpatiel says "Two decades past, Daimonique. It's what drove you to Heaven."
Daimon says "No... something else drove me to Heaven. That's terrible."
Mazpatiel says "When the War became open, Baal declared her a weakness in Hell."
Sarah's wing curls, gently, about Daimon.
Hitherby says, "I'm terribly sorry," in a subdued manner, while another mouth finishes, "--se, it
will be inexact information."
Sarah murmurs, "Only here, dear one. Not at home."
Daimon sighs. "That's awful."
Mazpatiel says "War is, yes."
Daimon says "I do want to go home. I'm sure your version of Me, who is probably a hard ass
bitch by now, will be just fine and will return to you, mission complete."
Sarah lifts her head. "Where we were from," she says calmly, "Bellman's was a location used by
a coalition of Princes to produce brainwashed 'evidence' that another Prince was collaborating
with Heaven. Of course, it seems likely that it may serve some ot
her function here."
Hitherby says, calmly, "Daimonique has done a remarkable job of avoiding cynicism in trying
circumstances, Daimon. -- Er." She looks flustered.
Hitherby adds, "It's a survival trait."
Daimon says "Wow. Then it really isn't me."
Sarah nuzzles Daimon's hand. "I don't know that I'd say that."
Daimon says "I think I'd get very angry if someone killed my mother. Angry in a whole new and
interesting way."
Sarah says "I agree."
Daimon says "Anyway, the portal."
Sarah murmurs, "A probable average maximum of eleven to go." She shudders delicately.
Mazpatiel says "Eleven?"
Daimon says "Eleven more worlds until we hit our own."
Mazpatiel says "Oh my."
Daimon nods. "That is what Jordi of Lightning told us. We're hoping this is correct."
Daimon peers at the maybe locked, maybe not door.
Mazpatiel pushes the door open.
Sarah turns her head a touch, blinking toward Mazpatiel.
Hitherby says, helpfully, "Well, an average maximum is still a maximum!"
Hitherby says "Just not an unusual one."
Sarah purrs, warmly.
Sarah says "Hitherby, has anyone ever told you that you have a remarkably sturdy mind?"
Hitherby reflects. "No," she says puzzledly. "Usually, they refer to it as 'serrated'."
Hitherby says "Because I *leap* on ideas and cut them all up."
Hitherby smiles.
Daimon blinks, and then starts walking through the door.
Hitherby says "But sturdy is good."
Hitherby smiles again. "You have a real genius for phraseology."
Daimon says "Pat... did you know, in my world, you're my partner in Judgment? I'm trying to
learn from you."
Sarah purrs again, warm, and brushes her wingtip against one of Hitherby's hands.
Mazpatiel chuckles faintly. "Here, Daimonique, you've had no need for teaching in some
time."
Hitherby says, "The key to working with Pat is to imagine him naked."
Daimon says "Well, I just recently redeemed, you know? I don't know my ass from a hole in the
ground."
Hitherby adds, "It's easier in Heaven."
Mazpatiel blinks. "Just recently?"
Daimon starts. Imagine Pat naked? Er, um, okay.
Daimon says "A matter of weeks."
Mazpatiel says "My."
Sarah is grateful that fur conceals blushes.
Daimon imagines Pat naked. It's an unpleasant activity. He's sort of, you know, Patlike.
Sarah knows. Believe her, she knows.
Daimon says "It was a decision that was a long time coming, but it was very recent. And very
painful."
Mazpatiel says "A very long time. Here, you've served Dominic for decades. Quite
effectively."
Daimon stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Who would have thought? I'm still in that 'possible
loser' stage at home. But I'm working on it."
Mazpatiel nods.
Daimon follows whoever out of this weird hospital building.
Sarah paces along beside Daimon.
Daimon says "It's just... a very different life, I guess."
Mazpatiel leads people out of the Glade.
Daimon follows, a hand on Sarah.
The group reaches the portal from the exact spot they left, within sight of the Spires.
Daimon sighs and peers at the portal. "Ready to go through, Sarah?"
Sarah admits, "To be honest, no, but I don't think we have much of a choice."
Daimon looks at Pat and Hitherby. "We're going through. Um, good luck here. We're hoping this
takes us home."
Hitherby says, reflectively, "You could stay here and help with the War."
Daimon shakes his head. "We have our own War to help with, unfortunately."
Mazpatiel says "This pressing?"
Sarah says "Aren't they all, by definition?"
Daimon says "There are things afoot there, yeah."
Daimon nods to Sarah. "Come on. Let's go."
Mazpatiel looks at Sarah. "Beleth's hordes mass at Blandine's tower. Last year, Belial burnt New
York to the ground."
Hitherby says, quietly, "I hope not, Sarah. If there are worlds unbounded, I should hope that some
of them have --- less pain."
Sarah stretches her wings, once. She says, quietly, "But in all of them, the stakes are the same.
And neither of us, in truth, is suited to the battle you must fight here. I am a guardian of
knowledge, and though I have claws, they are not as strong as they should be here; Daimonique
is still less martial than I."
Mazpatiel says "Then you are both very different indeed."
Hitherby says, quietly, "More valuable than you think."
Daimon says "I am not a warrior of any type, unfortunately. I don't even carry a weapon,
ever."
Hitherby says "We aren't warriors. We are defenders. In the past, there were only the Kerubim;
now we are all Guardians. We fight because -- anything less would betray the demons and the
humans as much as it would betray ourselves."
Daimon nods. "I'm sorry."
Hitherby reflects.
Hitherby grins. "Hey, no prob. See you when the other you comes back 'round."
Sarah nudges her head against the fringes of Hitherby's cloud. "I do hope so."
Daimon tugs Sarah lightly. "We have to get going."
Sarah takes a deep breath.
Sarah says "Hold tight."
Daimon does hold tight.
Mazpatiel steps back from the portal.
Sarah takes one more look back at Mazpatiel, almost shy, and then paces toward the portal.
Daimon goes with Sarah.
ZOOP!
(to be continued...)
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