Dinner at Sistine's

You paged Azalea with 'Unless you have other plans that you want to put into action, you're probably at your hotel at the moment.'.

Azalea pages: Azalea is presently buying new clothes, ditching the cellphone and wallet they gave her, and finding a new apartment.

Long distance to Azalea: Demiurge nods.

You paged Azalea with 'There are probably convenience stores and the like open this time of evening which she can use, nice anonymous ones.'.

Azalea pages: She's keeping the apartment they gave her - just getting a new one where she can actually stay.

Azalea pages: Azalea will go to Sistine's ahead of time, once she's all finished her setup, so she can case the joint.

Long distance to Azalea: Demiurge nods. At around 9pm, 10pm, or 11pm?

Azalea pages: As soon as she's finished; however long that takes.

Long distance to Azalea: Demiurge nods. Probably around 10pm, then.

At your table, Aron sits in Sistine's, nursing a beer and reading a manuscript, now that dinner with Shannen's done.

At your table, Azalea enters the cafe; she's wearing sunglasses, a loose white silk pant suit and a huge aura; fine blonde hair is swept back. She looks around carefully.

At your table, Demiurge says "Perception rolls, both of you."

At your table, Demiurge says "Azalea, it's a good restaurant. An excellent one, even. The sort that has your favourite kind of beer, no noisy children, good jazz band and music, and _very_ good food."

<> Aron rolls the d666 and gets 6 5 CHECK: 2.

<> Azalea rolls the d666 and gets 3 4 CHECK: 3.

At your table, Aron is, as always, blind as a bat.

At your table, Demiurge says "Unfortunately, Azalea also fails her roll."

At your table, Demiurge says "However, the only table free at the moment is the one where Aron's sitting, scribbling at a manuscript."

At your table, Azalea takes the remaining seat, patting her hair into place.

At your table, Demiurge says "A waiter bustles over. "Can I fetch you anything, madam?"

At your table, Aron looks up, bemused, circles a sentence in red and closes the manuscript. Glancing around, he sees why Azalea picked the seat and nods. "Good evening."

At your table, Azalea tells the waiter, "Coffee, please," and lights up a cigarette.

At your table, Aron puts the manuscript away, carefully, when the flame comes out. "Aron Riel," he offers, hand extended.

The waiter nods. A cup of coffee is fetched at once, together with tiny cream-jug and sugar dishes.

At your table, Azalea shakes his hand. "Azalea Proserpine."

At your table, Aron nods, and settles back. He has a cup of coffee before him - black as night andtwice as bitter. He sips it, quietly. After a time, "Do you come here often?"

At your table, Azalea says "Never. You?"

At your table, Aron says "Once."

At your table, Aron says "I just haven't left yet."

At your table, Azalea's mouth quirks. "Has it been long?"

At your table, Aron shrugs, sips his coffee. "Not long enough to be a way of life." Though his expression remains constant, his eyes twinkle.

At your table, Azalea says "Is it a way of life for others, this chapel to the altar of licit drugs?"

At your table, Aron considers. "Oh, chapel this might be, but not to the virtue of drug; just cheer."

At your table, Azalea lifts up her coffee. "Even if artificial cheer?"

At your table, Aron says, simply, "If it is only the coffee that cheers you, perhaps you truly need this place."

At your table, Azalea butts out her cigarette and lights another.

At your table, Aron sips his coffee, and is again silent for a handful of minutes. Finally, "How did you find this place?"

At your table, Azalea says "I'm meeting someone here, later this evening."

At your table, Aron nods. "If it's for dinner, I recommend the pasta carbonara. The chef is excellent."

Aron pages to Demiurge and Azalea: I would like to resonate Azalea upon shaking her hand.

You paged Azalea and Aron with 'Okay. Azalea, you can also resonate his "worst nightmare" if you want. :)'.

<> Aron rolls the d666 and gets 2 1 CHECK: 6.

Aron pages to Demiurge and Azalea: Oh my goodness.

You paged Azalea and Aron with 'Do tell. :) And, hm. Azalea does have a moral structure. No, no rolling necessary for you, Azalea. It's the automatic ability of Calabim of Beleth.'.

Aron pages to Demiurge and Azalea: Oh, groovesome! Okay, worst nightmare: Learning that it was MY actions that caused Uriel's Crusade to go wrong, MY feelings that drove Eli to the corporeal realm and then, through MY failures, somehow causing Blandine to fall into Despair. Aron's really, really hung up on the 'pass the Superior' thing.

Aron pages to Demiurge and Azalea: In the dream, Blandine witnesses my destruction of the beasts of myth, and becomes the Demon Prince of Despair.

You paged Azalea and Aron with 'Azalea has _high_ potential in the Symphony, and could possibly aspire to some day being a Word-bound angel, _if_ she Redeemed. Her lowest depth would be to betray everyone here, return to full service of Beleth, and become a sadistic monster, crafter of careful nightmares that would twist children into terrified sadists.'.

Azalea pages to Demiurge and Aron: Wow.

At your table, Aron stares at Azalea for a long time. Finally, when she picks up her next cigarette, he offers a light.

At your table, Azalea smiles, a sharp expression, and accepts the offer.

From afar, to Demiurge and Azalea, Aron grins. "I am so glad I nailed that resonance roll. I get to protect Azalea a little now."

You paged Azalea and Aron with 'Sometimes the dice _do_ work. ;)'.

Aron leans back deliberately, fingers carefully laced together as if to prevent unintentional action. Silence ticks by for an entirely uncomfortable period before he says, "Perhaps you should come upstairs."

Azalea looks at him, scowl evident even through the dark glasses. "Why should I do that?"

Aron's lips thin as he chooses thought over response. Finally, he says, "I won't hurt you."

Azalea says "Lots of people won't hurt me, I'd imagine; doesn't mean I ought to go upstairs with any of them."

Aron's eyes narrow. "I know what you are." His fingers find a teaspoon.

Aron spaces his words, deliberately. "I just want to talk."

Liz bursts in the door, just before Midnight, looking around somewhat wildly.

Azalea says "And I know what you are. And I don't see why you can't say what you want to, right down here while I drink my coffee."

Liz quickly checks the whole place, looking for Azalea, or anyone who looks like he might be a Malakite. Or the Seneschal.

There is no sign of any obvious Seneschal, but Aron and Azalea are at a table to one side.

Aron looks up at the ceiling, drawing steady and deliberate breaths. "Please." He turns his eyes down to Azalea again. "Please come speak privately with me."

Liz blinks, and takes a deep breath.

Liz walks over to the table.

Sephar peeks out of the pocket.

Liz strolls up, about as casually as an Ofanite can (not much). She's dressed like she was earlier: jeans, a windbreaker over a cotton blouse, flowing red hair. No sunglasses.

Liz looks at Aron, then at Azalea, then back at Aron.

Liz says "Excuse me. I don't wish to intrude, but."

Liz looks at Azalea. "Are you all right?"

Aron glances sidelong at Liz. Thoughtfully, he picks up a creamer in his other hand.

Azalea turns as the other woman arrives, greeting her with a not-quite friendly smile, and an even darker one for Aron. "And look, here's my date."

Azalea says "I'm quite fine. Aron here merely wishes to speak privately, for reasons he hasn't explained. Yet."

Liz says "Ah."

Liz pales a bit. "Aron, is it?"

Aron moves to shake Liz's hand, and realizes that his grip on the creamer rather impedes such courtesies. He sets the milk down. "You know me?"

Liz turns to Aron. "We have a mutual aquaintance. Shannen told me who you were."

Liz shakes Aron's hand. "Liz Bradley."

Aron returns the greeting, resonantly.

<> Aron rolls the d666 and gets 3 3 CHECK: 6.

Aron says "Aron Riel."

Sephar curls up quietly within Liz's pocket again.

You paged Liz and Aron with 'Hm, that means you see the full height and depth of spirit that Liz can aspire to.'.

From afar, to Demiurge and Liz, Aron nods. "Prezactly."

You paged Liz and Aron with 'She has the potential to bring succor to many through her work with aid organisations, and to bring more than one demon to Redemption.'.

Liz pages to Demiurge and Aron: He's just *so* annoying that way.

From afar, to Demiurge and Liz, Aron grins.

You paged Liz and Aron with 'She also has the potential to become a remorseless killer and hasty judge, Calabite of Asmodeus and executioner.'.

Liz pages to Demiurge and Aron: Yeek

You paged Liz and Aron with 'Her basic honor is sound, and she always keeps her word.'.

Aron removes his hand. "Then, we should -all- go upstairs."

Aron offers, as if it would help, "I can have food brought up."

Liz looks at Aron.

Liz says "Your pardon, but."

Aron waits.

Azalea looks amused. "I don't mind, personally."

Liz says "I invited Ms. Persephone here for a private conversation, in a neutral place."

Aron says "This is not a neutral place, and it is no longer a private conversation."

Liz says "So I have found out, somewhat after the fact."

Aron smiles, apologetically. "I can have hot chocolate brought up as well."

Liz says "However, it's still her choice, given the company involved."

Liz says "And the potential delicacy of the issue."

Aron frowns. Hot chocolate? Damn that Mercurian of Flowers and her insidious ways.

Liz walks a damn fine dissonance line.

Aron says, with that peculiar Malakite weight, "I will not hurt her."

Aron says "You understand?"

Liz looks a little relieved.

Sephar peeks out of Liz's pocket.

Liz says "I understand that, and appreciate it. But."

Aron turns his attention to Azalea. He waits. Out of what seems to be habit, the teaspoon leaps and dances between his fingers.

Liz shrugs at Azalea. "Sorry. Anyways, your choice."

Azalea repeats, over-casual, "I don't mind."

Liz says "We can also leave and go elsewhere, if you like."

Azalea puts her gloves back on.

Liz sighs.

Liz says "Fine. Lead on, Aron. I believe you know the venue best."

Aron nods. He pushes his chair back, gathers up his coffee and makes for the back stairs. Upstairs, he has an apartment - a simple affair that doesn't seem to be quite moved into yet, though a bookshelf has already been filled.

Liz walks between Aron and Azalea.

You paged Liz and Azalea with 'Let us know if you want to determine what Liz's worst nightmare is, Azalea. ;)'.

Aron holds the door open, frowning at Liz. "I told you I wouldn't hurt her," he chides.

Liz pages to Demiurge and Azalea: Being caught between a Malakite and a Calabite in a fight, and needing to keep both from harm.

You paged Liz and Azalea with 'That's her worst ever nightmare?'.

Liz pages to Demiurge and Azalea: At the moment, yes.

Liz shrugs a little bit at Aron. "I don't want there to be any misunderstandings."

Liz doesn't tell Aron she's worried that Azalea might be a Game plant.

Azalea murmurs, saccharine sweet, "It's ever so kind of him, don't you think?"

Aron smiles, suddenly. "I am very kind, indeed."

Aron moves into the room, to a table that holds a thick block of wood and a small knife. He perches on the edge of the table and lets his hands whittle as he says, "This certainly is an unusual situation."

Liz shrugs to Azalea. "I'm sorry. I hadn't planned on this happening."

Azalea says "What /is/ the situation, Aron?"

Azalea says "You still haven't explained why I'm here."

<> Eduardo says "To be smited!"

<> Liz says "If Aron is smitten, that's an entirely different thing."

Aron slices away a flake of wood, then nods. "I haven't, have I." He considers, then offers, "Very well, here it is."

Liz paces along the long end of the room, whatever that is.

Aron says "You are a Servitor of Nightmare with the potential for Greatness, and I mean that with a capital G - the sort of capital G that demons aren't allowed to achieve."

Liz stops dead still.

Azalea pulls off her sunglasses, glaring at Aron with dark eyes.

Aron says "I have a vested interest in seeing that you -do- gain that Greatness. And, since demons aren't allowed to have it, I suppose we'll simply have to alter the other half of the equation."

Liz *stares* at Aron.

Liz says "Don't you think you're being a tad premature?"

Aron nods, sadly. "Very."

Liz paces again, almost resigned. "I'm sorry, Azalea. This must be... uncomfortable for you."

Aron returns to his whittling, one ear cocked toward the conversation.

Azalea says "Actually, I was just wondering what sort of drugs they let your sort take, that he'd come to a conclusion like that."

Liz says "I haven't the faintest idea."

Aron smiles, says nothing.

Liz says "I had planned on saying that if you're interested in us, in our viewpoint, then I would be happy to provide that information or put you in contact with some people who are better at this sort of thing than I am."

Liz says "Obviously that's blown right out of the water, but it's still true."

Liz says "I will not force you to do anything. I also won't stand by if you commit acts that I cannot countenance. Neither, I think, would Aron, but he can speak for himself."

Aron sinks the knife into an unused part of the wood and sets it aside. "I described your potential. I will not force you towards it."

Liz says "And that's pretty much the spiel, unless you have questions."

Aron pauses. "I will be sad if you do not venture towards it, however. I might weep."

From afar, Aron . o O ( Because I'd have to kill you. )

Liz *stares* at Aron again.

Liz . o O (Okay, I think I understand where the Judgement types get their view of Creationers.)

<> Aron chortles.

Azalea says "He's rather blown my lovely mysterious scenario, too."

Liz says "How rude of him."

Aron smiles ruefully. "I wish I could have done it another way."

Liz says "I know an Elohite of Judgement who could properly appreciate it, if you want to try it on someone else."

Liz says "He's also very good with people who are considering other Viewpoints."

Azalea crosses her arms. "I can think of any number of other ways. But since you've done it this way, tell me why I should."

Liz resists the temptation to babble.

Aron nods, thoughtfully. "Before I do, let me tell you why I chose this way?"

Azalea's mouth twists, unpleasantly. "Certainly." She smoothes her hair.

Aron hops off the table and paces. He glances at Liz, then proceeds. "Everything - and I mean everything - has a clarity to it; a certain degree of purity that defines it." He holds up a hand. "I know I'm being pedantic. I'm old, bear with me."

Liz paces, but is otherwise silent.

Aron says "I've got a knack for seeing that clarity, and the potential for purity. I can see the realistic height of aspirations. Your potential, Azalea, blows my mind - to use the colloquial."

Aron shrugs, apologetically. "It blows my mind so much that I can't help but be caught up in it."

Azalea says "Upward mobility. Well, I haven't achieved much downward mobility, more's the pity."

Aron says, less gently, "You could. You have the potential for that, too."

Sephar scrambles up onto Liz's shoulder while that side is away from the other two, and then rides Liz's shoulder, just under her hair, and listens quietly as Liz paces.

Azalea shrugs. "I just like doing my job, and doing it well." Her expression is dark.

Aron says "But do you like the job itself?"

Azalea says "I used to."

Aron nods. "I like doing my job well, as well. I can respect the same quality in you." He seems wry. "I've learned that much, at least."

Azalea watches Aron for some time. Finally, tightly, she says, "I don't see why I should trust you."

Aron nods. "I don't imagine you could. Let me give you something."

Aron says "My name is Taroniel, Virtue of Creation in the service of Dream."

Sephar blinks quietly.

Azalea, darkly, "I don't think you should be telling me such things."

Aron says "Nevertheless, it's done."

Azalea asks, very slowly, "What - do you want of me?"

Aron says, quietly, "Nothing that is as significant as what you want of yourself."

Azalea says "I was just -"

Aron listens.

Azalea admits, sullenly, "I was bored."

Aron quirks an eyebrow. "Tell me."

Aron glances helplessly at Liz and the rat when he thinks Azalea isn't looking. He then gathers his decorum up once again.

Sephar suddenly squeaks from Liz's shoulder, "So maybe a reason to do stuff is to not be bored anymore?"

Azalea eyes Sephar. "You know, you have a talking rat in here. I don't remember agreeing to that."

Aron considers the rat. "I assure you, I am not pulling a rodent-oriented fast one on you."

Sephar eyes Azalea back.

Sephar squeaks, "I'm not Aron's."

Azalea says "I can see that. You're Liz's, apparently."

Sephar says "Uhm... yeah, I guess. I'm a friend of hers.""

Azalea repeats, blankly, "Rats. You folk are odder than I thought."

Sephar scrambles down Liz and does a tiny bow, "I'm a Rat of Electricity!"

Azalea says "You spread *plague*. I'd shake your hand if you had one."

Sephar dances a bit. "And is it okay if I'm here? I was just a little worried about you when we first met, so I stayed hidden."

Azalea says "And now, of course, finding out I'm a demon you've decided every thing's fine?"

Sephar peers up at Azalea a little uncertainly at that pronoucement. "Oh. I do?"

Sephar says "Uhm... it's not fine, but at least I know now."

Sephar says "I mean fine would be if you could do like Aron was trying to explain. Oops... sorry for interrupting, Aron."

Aron shakes his head. "No apologies necessary. What should I call you?"

Sephar thinks a bit. "Uhm... Sephar is probably most direct."

Aron nods. "Sephar will do, then." He rubs at his eyebrows. "Azalea," he says, finally, "what is your plan? What do you want?"

Azalea looks weary.

Azalea says "I didn't have a plan."

Azalea says "I just came here to find out what my options were."

Aron nods. "Your options are open."

Azalea says "I don't like that."

Aron considers. "I don't suppose you want me to narrow them for you."

Sephar peers up at Azalea.

Azalea steps back a pace. "What do you mean?"

Sephar says "Likely enumerate the most likely..."

Aron nods. "Look, I know this is difficult for you. The majority of me doesn't understand *why* it's difficult, but that's the way I'm wired. I've been invested with enough heart, however, to know that it is."

Azalea slants a narrow look at him. "Enumerate, then."

Aron says "We'll save the best for last."

Aron says "So, you can return to hell and dedicate yourself to the cause of Nightmares. You pass by even the somewhat healthy concept of Fear in favor of baser Terrors, and you grow steadily more numbed by the horrors you engender."

Azalea says "I've done that already."

Azalea says "It's gotten rather old."

Aron nods. "I can't imagine how you liked it in the first place. Moving on."

Aron says "You can go Renegade and stay that way, joining neither side. Doing so puts your life expectancy in the range of minutes, but lends you a sense of freedom during that time."

Azalea inserts, maliciously, "It was lovely for the first few centuries."

Aron replies not at all.

Azalea prompts him, "That's it, then?"

Aron says "Well, and then there's our side - the good guys."

Aron glances at Sephar. "Did I miss anything?"

Sephar peers up at Aron. "I don't think so. Those seem the general catagories."

Aron nods. "I do not want to imply, by the way, the Heaven is a temp service. One doesn't just 'work for Heaven'."

Azalea snorts. "Good guys."

Aron smiles. "I couldn't help myself."

Sephar squeeks up at Azalea, "Well, sounds as if your first few centures were... uhm... interesting... in the Chinese sense."

Sephar peers at itself, "I'm not sure if I'm a guy... but okay."

Azalea says "If you don't work for heaven, what do you do? Eat chocolate and laze around in cafes?"

Aron says, deadpan, "Only on Fridays."

Aron waves a hand. "But seriously. I work, and that work is for Heaven, but Heaven is not my -employer-. It's somewhat more than that. Surely you understand."

Liz paces back and forth steadily, trying to think.

Azalea says "I suppose you don't get benefits or overtime, either."

Sephar peers up at Liz occassionally.

Liz stops, looks over at Azalea.

Liz says "No. That's not it."

Liz says "Heaven is a place where an angel is welcome."

Liz says "Heaven is a place where an angel is loved."

Aron settles back, grateful for the opportunity for silence.

Azalea looks vaguely discomfitted.

Liz says "The work I do for my Superior is not born from fear, or from the desire for mor power, or the chance to work my will on others."

Azalea retorts, "Neither is mine."

Liz says "What is it born of, then?"

Azalea says "I enjoyed it. It was what I was created to do."

Liz says "So there's no fear of failure?"

Liz says "No pressure to just do your best and if doesn't work out, there's always tomorrow?"

Azalea answers, all bravado "I'm sure others feel fear of failure."

Liz says "And what did you feel, Azalea?"

Liz isn't accusing, or harsh.

Liz is almost quiet.

Liz says "The others aren't here. You are. I'm not concerned with the others. I'm concerned with you."

Liz says "What did you feel?"

Aron's knife goes snicker snack against the wood, shapes slowly taking form.

Azalea says "Like I was doing my work, and doing it well. It was a calling."

Aron says "Not enough of one."

Liz glares at Aron again.

Liz siiighs.

Azalea glowers at Aron.

Liz says "Aron."

Liz says "I realize this is probably about as hard for you as it is for Azalea, but that's not helping."

Aron frowns. "That came out wrong, didn't it."

Liz says "Very."

Sephar hrms and peers up at Azalea, "Was there something missing so that your job got boring?"

Aron says "It's a very old habit, I'm sorry. I'll rephrase. It has stopped calling. It implies something else in Azalea; something her creator may not have put there."

Aron returns to his whittling.

Liz says "I'd rather let Azalea tell me that, though."

Azalea says "Nothing was missing. Except that I sort of felt superfluous, after a while."

Liz shrugs again at Azalea. "Sorry. This is sort of a bad time for Aron and I to be having this conversation. I'm sure it's fascinating, though."

Azalea says "Interesting enough."

Aron's expression turns quizzical. "Hm."

Liz says "Well, if nothing else, this should tell you that, yes, differences of opinion do happen upstairs."

Liz says "Although we try and be polite about them when they do."

Aron blows a shaving from his carving, then continues.

Azalea says, mockingly, "Really? You're not all just a bunch of mindless chanting zombies?"

Liz smiles. "No. We don't all carry harps, either."

Azalea, suddenly nostalgic, "I used to burn harps."

Aron's knife stills. It is some time before it turns to its work again.

Liz says "Used to. Don't burn them much anymore?"

Aron has soon given the wood the shape of a fist, with thumb tucked between index and third fingers - a good luck symbol in some cultures.

Azalea says "No. It's not really a much-used instrument, and the cultural symbolism hasn't been of significant value in decades. Centuries, even, although it's come back in vogue from time to time."

Liz says "Huh. Hadn't thought about that."

Aron walks around his apartment, and finds a bit of sandpaper. He adds only the scritch-scratch of his sanding to the conversation.

Liz says "So what do you want?"

From afar, Aron is going to attempt to use Artistry to embed one word in the sculpture - you know, that Celestials can read.

Azalea says "I /wanted/ information."

Liz says "Okay. What information?"

Long distance to Aron: Demiurge nods. Sure.

<> Aron rolls the d666 and gets 4 5 CHECK: 6.

Aron pages: Success. check 6. The word is 'Hope'.

Long distance to Aron: Demiurge chuckles. Sure.

Azalea says "About what sort of deal I could get; about whether or not there was anything I could do upstairs; about my chances of survival."

Liz says "Straight up?"

Liz stands in front of Azalea.

Aron turns the piece in his hands, and smiles. He smooths out the knuckles with a few brief strokes.

Liz says "First of all, upstairs doesn't take just anyone. You have to want to be good. No, you have to need to be good. To be, if you like, angelic."

Azalea smoothes her hair and straightens her gloves, an instinctive gesture.

Liz says "Some Demons find that, somewhere along the line, they want something better. They want to be something better, know something better. They want love, acceptance, understanding."

Liz says "That's all there, but it's reciprocal. You have to want to love. Want to trust. Be willing to take the risk."

Liz says "It's a risk. At the very least, there's the Game."

Liz says "And your current Superior, who no doubt won't be happy to lose you."

Liz says "And not everyone survives the transition, by all acounts. Some do. Enough. But it's only for the very brave, or those who absolutely need to change, or both."

Liz says "But, if you want it. If you need it. If you have the courage to try, then it's worth it. You'll be sheltered. You'll be protected."

Liz says "You'll be given a chance to adjust, and to find your place in Heaven and in the Symphony."

Liz says "And then you'll get a chance to grow, to be things you never thought you could be. You don't have to do any of it, but if you want to, you can. You'll be loved. You'll be valued like you never imagined you could be."

Liz says "And, whether or not you care about this now, you'll get a chance to give something back. To help to try and improve the lives of others. Angels. Humans. Even Demons."

Aron buffs the wood on his shirt. "You'll be whole."

Liz says "That's the deal. If you have the courage. If you have the need."

Liz shuts up, goes back to pacing.

Aron flips the carving, to hold it by by the fist. He offers it to Azalea.

Azalea says, uncertainly, "Maybe I should talk to some of Fire's people." She looks at the carving.

Aron waits.

Liz says "I know a Malakite of Fire who has shown... admirable restraint...when dealing with Infernals of honor and potential."

Liz says "I'm sure others are available, if you are not cruel."

Azalea says "I am."

Azalea says "But I'm sick of it."

Liz says "Why fire?"

Liz says "Why not Trade? Or Judgement? Or *smile* Creation?"

Aron does, in fact, smile at that.

Azalea says "I would have thought that obvious."

Liz twigs.

Liz says "Not all Ofanim work for Fire, Azalea."

Aron shrugs and sets the carving beside Azalea's hand. "It's yours," he murmurs, and goes to a corner of the apartment to wash his hands.

Azalea sighs. "That isn't what I meant."

Liz says "All right, what do you mean."

Liz says "You talk, I'll listen."

Azalea says "Fire punishes evil doers, doesn't he? I mean, maybe I've got my angels mixed up; I've never really studied all this."

Liz says "Fire Smites the Cruel."

Azalea shifts, uncomfortably. "I just thought that might be easier to take than anything else."

Liz says "That's not all they do."

Azalea says "Yeah."

Liz says "They're also the fire of Inspiration."

Aron smiles again. "A side of Fire we like greatly."

Azalea says "That's fine. I can handle that."

Liz says "All right. I can arrange for a meeting with a Servitor of FIre."

Aron drapes the towel over its rack carefully, then says, "You should take that," he says, nodding at the carving.

Liz says "I'll warn you now: don't go to that meeting unless you know you want to Redeem. If you're mistake, it could be fatal. If the Cruelty hasn't been burned from your heart already, the Servitor will probably attempt to arrange for it."

Azalea says "I don't know that yet."

Liz says "Then I would like to suggest two things."

Liz says "First: show your desire to Redeem. To us, and to yourself."

Liz says "In short, good deeds."

Liz says "Second: Meet with an Elohite friend of mine. He's Judgement. He is, however, very discreet. If you truly wish to Redeem, he'll help you."

<> Pat says "Do I have a sign on my door?"

<> Aron says "It says 'sucker'."

<> Pat says "Renegades, come here for free counselling?"

<> Daimon says "Sorry about that. Do you not want it here?"

<> Pat chuckles.

<> Daimon says "I'm not a Renegade! I'm just confused!"

Azalea repeats, somewhat plaintively, "Good deeds."

Liz says "Good deeds."

Liz says "Words of Redemption are well and good, but Deeds are important."

Liz says "The Devil can quote scripture."

Liz says "But even the most subtle Balseraph's actions will give it away."

Azalea says "So can this Elohite tell me what constitutes a good deed?"

Liz says "Very likely."

Aron winces.

Liz says "Although you'll need to rely on your own sense of morality as well."

Azalea says "So, if I have an instinct to do something, do the opposite?"

Liz says "Maybe not."

Liz says "If your instinct is to kill me where I stand, then I'd recommend doing the opposite."

Liz says "If your instinct is to listen, then listen."

Aron says "I have one piece of advice. It is neither violent nor threatening. Will you have it?"

Azalea says "Sure."

Aron says "Before you do anything, think. Nothing you would do will have meaning until there is a real desire behind it."

Aron says "And you will not find that without introspection. If you require a safe place to think, we shall arrange it."

Liz looks somewhat offended by that.

Aron glances at Liz, for confirmation.

Liz starts to object, thinks.

Liz says "For now, Aron's right."

Liz says "In the long term, if you Redeem, you won't have to think about your actions. They'll flow naturally."

Aron nods. "Exactly."

Aron searches for words. "But you cannot do good deeds for profit."

Liz says "Hey."

Aron grins. "Trade, excepted."

Liz rolls her eyes. "And people wonder where the term 'starving artist' came from."

Azalea says "I do need a safe place."

Liz says "Ah."

Aron laughs, despite himself. "I don't know how my, ah, landlord will react to your presence. I'm willing to make a place safer by my presence, however."

Liz looks at Aron. "I suppose you're going to suggest here."

Aron laughs at Liz and starving artists, that is.

Aron says "I can't suggest here without speaking to Marath first."

Liz says "Why don't you go get her?"

Liz says "I have a couple of other suggestions as well."

Azalea says "So really, you don't have a safe place."

Liz shrugs. "I'd offer you my Hangar, but I think we both know it probably isn't the safest place in the world."

Aron moves to the phone, then considers the two. "Others will die before you do," he says as what only a Malakite would consider encouragement. I'll go get Marath." He heads down the stairs to leave the two time to speak privately.

Marath is findable in the kitchen, making zabaglione.

Liz says "There is a Tether of Trade in the City that could probably put you up."

Liz says "In agreement for your cooperation until you're actually Redeemed."

Liz says "It's quite well defended."

Liz says "But more formal than this place."

Marath turns. "Aron. How's it going? I saw you dragging them upstairs, whoever they are."

Liz says "You would be allowed reasonable freedom of movement. If you wished to continue contacts with your current organization, we could arrange for that as well, under binding contract if necessary. It's very dangerous, but if you want to play that sort of role, it's available."

Aron nods, expression some bastard child of wry, apologetic and fierce. "Punish me if you must. One is a Calabite of Nightmare, set to Redeem if we can manage it."

Sephar washes quietly, knowing the others are far more persuasive than it can be.

Marath frowns. Then, belatedly, she moves her spoon so that it stops dripping on the floor. "Can you vouch for her intentions or sincerity?"

Aron considers. "I can vouch for her potential, her word and her intentions. If she swears, then I shall vouch for her sincerity."

Marath scrutinises Aron, thoughtfully. She says, eventually, "I'd better meet her. She's in your room upstairs?"

Aron nods. "She is. As is the Ofanite of Trade - the other woman."

Marath dunks the spoon into the bowl, props it to one side, and wipes her hands with a teatowel before tossing it over one shoulder. "I'd better have a word with her, then. I will accept your vouchsafing of her sincerity, my brother."

Aron smiles his gratitude. "My thanks, sister. I've never seen one with her potential." He considers. "Well, not in some time."

Azalea considers these options and says, finally - and with finality - "I'll stay here."

Aron mutters to Marath, "I can't believe I'm doing this at my own apartment." He knocks on his door. "All clear?"

Azalea struggles with something, for a time. "They're watching you, Liz."

Azalea says "Well, I was supposed to be."

Sephar peers up at what Azalea says.

Marath snickers faintly, standing behind him.

Aron opens the door and clears his throat. "Ah, ready or not, I suppose."

Liz says "I know, Azalea. I expected it. And it's not just the Game, is it?"

Marath is standing behind him. She's a woman of Italian descent, in blouse and skirt, with a teatowel slung over one shoulder. She's also distinctly putting on weight. She has a cheerful smile, a shade muted at the moment.

Liz says "Your Superior, too."

Azalea says "Well, I'm not part of the Game, so I'd guess not."

Liz says "One question. You needn't answer, but it will help."

Aron opens the door full and steps insie, closing it behind Marath.

Sephar peers at the opening of the door.

Marath considers Liz, then Sephar, then Azalea. She has a trace of accent, as she says, "I understand you're looking for temporary sanctuary."

Liz smiles at Marath.

Sephar perks his ears at Marath, and then patters over to Liz, scrambles up her and into her pocket.

Azalea says "Yes."

Marath says, formally, "As my brother gives surety for you, I grant you the freedom of this Tether. I ask that you cause no harm to any human or angel in it, or to the place itself, while you dwell herein."

Aron . o O ( Oh the neo-boss is going to love this. )

Azalea says "I can do that."

Aron moves towards Liz. "Wheel, a moment?"

Marath nods. "Then feel free to stay. There's a free room just along the corridor from here."

Liz nods to Aron. "As you like, Virtue."

Marath says, "Meals are on the house." She grins.

Liz smiles. "Nice. If something happens to the Hangar, maybe I should ask for Sanctuary here."

<> Pat says "And in your throat, and severing your limbs, and...oh. Only if you misbehave."

Aron smiles sidelong at Marath, then turns to Liz, guiding her to a quieter corner. "I just want you to know we are not at odds in this. And, your friend Shannen spoke to me of some things. Should you need my aid, you have it."

Liz nods and says, quietly as well, "Good. I don't particularly care who she serves, only that she Redeems. But be aware: the Game is after us. She might be a plant. Guard yourself. Make sure Marath guards herself.

Liz says "Also be aware: Judgement must be aware of this place. I think you'll find them in a more... flexible...mindset than you're used to, but they must know, and they'll want to talk with Azalea."

Aron's smile is a sharp thing. "We will." He offers a card, after writing a number on the back. "My phone at work and home. As all my brethren, I am ever ready."

Aron nods, glances at Marath. "We have no love of Judgement, but if they come, they come."

<> Pat sniffles.

Liz exchanges her card with Aron. "And me and Mine as well, Virtue. I'm glad to meet you. I will admit nervousness at the thought of one of your choir being here to greet Azalea caused me no small worry."

Liz says "I'm happy to be proven incorrect in my worries."

Marath says, to Azalea, "Need to fetch any belongings, or are you all right as is?"

Aron smiles that bladed smile again. "It's a good thing she is who she is."

Liz says "It makes me somewhat happier that she isn't a Game plant."

Liz says "Or probably isn't."

Aron nods. "She is not."

Liz says "Unfortunately, that means Nightmares is involved."

Aron says "Skullduggery mars the spirit. She does not bear that mark."

Liz sighs. "And watching me. And the others."

Azalea tells Marath, "I haven't anything I want here."

Liz walks over to Azalea.

Aron says "But Dream is drawn in. Worry is a dangerous thing; caution should be enough."

Azalea says, crisply, "Liz, you haven't asked me your question."

Marath nods. "Okay. I'll be downstairs in the kitchen, if you want me."

Liz says "Yes. My question."

Aron smiles and moves to touch Marath's arm and murmur thanks.

Marath flips a wave to the others in the room, and lets herself out. She smiles at Aron, then heads back downstairs again.

Liz says "Bellman's Studios. We have information that the Game is involved with them somehow. They're close to this location. Have you heard of them, or anything about them?"

Liz says "Ditto Focals Investments, the local Game cover firm."

Sephar's ears perk up out of Liz's pocket.

Azalea says "I've been to the studio; it's a Tether. I don't know anything about the Focals."

Liz nods. "Whose Tether?"

Aron says "Whose Tether?"

Azalea says "Presumably ours."

Liz says "Ah."

Liz looks nonplussed.

Liz says "That's... unexpected."

Aron says "It is not."

<> Pat rolls his resonance to force Aron into righteous indigna...oops.

Sephar squeaks, "Presumably?"

Aron says "I was sent here to investigate Nightmare's activities."

Azalea looks at the rat.

Liz says "You've heard of Bellman's, then, Aron?"

Aron shakes his head. "But that they've a Tether associated with the Game, and finding sudden mention in my life doesn't surprise me."

Liz lost any control of her New Zealand accent a long while back. Currently her accent is mostly British, as that's what her last four roles were before this.

Aron smiles. "The mysterious Plan and all that."

Liz laughs. "Ah, that, yes."

Sephar peers out of the pocket back at Azalea, and peers at what Aron says.

Marath's voice drifts up from downstairs. "Aron! Zabaglione!" There is a banging on the floor.

Liz says "I think you two are being called to dinner."

Sephar says "Zabaglione?"

Aron rubs his stomach. "Ah, divine providence. I'm off."

Azalea says "I think I'd like some time to get settled in."

Liz nods.

Azalea looks out the door, glancing about for the extra room.

Liz says "You have the unlisted cellphone number, Azalea?"

Aron nods, and hands Azalea the carving again. "Consider it a housewarming gift."

Azalea takes the carving from him, not without some hesitation.

The indicated room is obvious, just down the corridor.

Azalea says "I left the cellphone at my hotel room."

Azalea says "They gave it to me."

Aron chuckles, bemusedly.

Sephar says "Good thing, probably, then."

Liz writes her number down again, the number to the one she got from the Faceless Government Agency.

Liz says "Here."

Azalea takes the number from Liz.

Azalea walks out, and down the hall, the carving still in her hand.

Liz says "This goes to a cellphone that, as I mentioned. It's unlisted and untraceable to me."

Liz says "Well, a Shedite of Vapula could trace it, i suppose. Ick."

The indicated room has a bed, a closet, a bright rug, quiet curtains, a small attached shower and toilet, and a key and lock on the _inside_ of the door.

Liz follows Azalea to her room. "Last thing."

Liz says "Shannen would want you to have this, I suppose, and since she's not here..."

Azalea sighs. "Yes?"

Liz leans forward, slowly, and gives Azalea a very light hug.

<> Aron says "Oh no, impending hug."

<> Aron says "Yup."

Liz says "Welcome to something better. I pray it works out."

Azalea attempts to keep the consternation from her expression; instead, she merely tidies her hair once more.

Sephar squeaks a quiet, "Yeah."

Liz says "Call me. Any time, for any reason."

Azalea looks at the rat. Her mouth twists.

Sephar looks back, "Hm?"

Azalea tells Liz, "I'll do that."

Liz smiles. "Godspeed, Azalea Persephone."

Aron makes his way downstairs for food and company, and thus closes his end of the scene.

Azalea, instead of replying, merely closes the door gently behind her.

Liz disappears from the scene with typical ofanite speed.

Sephar nods quietly and curls up quietly in Liz's pocket again

Liz passes Aron on the way downstairs. "Come on, Virtue. Your pasta's getting cold."

---

Fiat Justitia