Demiurge says "Daimon, Sarah, Pat shows up with Daimon's clothes and hands them over."
Demiurge says "He is then abruptly called away to deal with something or other that is vitally important and we'll define later."
Sarah showers, gets into her still fairly neat clothes, drives Daimon to Sistine's.
Hitherby drifts in quietly with Pat, but mysteriously does not vanish again when he leaves. Perhaps she secretly doesn't really work for Judgment. Instead, she accompanies Sarah/Daimon ...
Aron is, as is usual, sipping black coffee and reading in Sistine's. Should Azalea accept his offer of protection, as it were, she is welcome to be with him.
Hitherby comes along as bugs, even, since no one at Sistine's blinked during the party on Night 3.
Daimon is dressed Daimonnormal - black turtleneck, jeans, black leather jacket. For reference.
Sarah comments softly to Hitherby, still outside, "You might want to consider something else. Insects tend to disturb people in restaurants."
Hitherby hums quietly. "And?"
Hitherby swirls around merrily.
Sarah is dressed Sarahnormal, as well. Her clothes might not be quite as crisp as usual, but her hair is even neater to make up for it.
Sarah replies, "To the extent of possibly endangering your hosts."
Inside, Marath is bustling around in the kitchen. She has managed to see to it that a large table in the corner, inside, has been left free, with "Reserved" signs on it.
Daimon is a little surprised, and looks for the Balseraph of Much Goofiness.
Aron glances at the table. At some point, he asks Marath, "Who took out the table?"
Hitherby murmurs, atonally, "I will be discreet, then." She lands neatly on the back and shoulders of someone wearing dark clothing.
Sarah also glances at the table, once inside, somewhat startled.
Sarah murmurs to Daimon, "Do you see him?"
Daimon peers around into Sistine's, looking for Terry.
Liz strolls into Sistine's, looking deliberately relaxed, just after the others.
Aron glances at Liz, nods once.
Marath mutters back, "They're meeting a contact. Some Balseraph. He's not here yet. Go introduce yourself?"
Liz nods back at Aron, looks around at the others.
Daimon looks at Liz. "Liz!"
Liz smiles, walks over, hugs Daimon. "Hi."
Daimon hugs back. "Mmmmm, warm fresh Ofanite. My favorite."
Liz hugs back.
Aron nods to Marath. He closes his book and tucks it under his shoulder. Taking his cup in hand, he moves to the reserved table and sets his things down. He leans against the table, waiting.
Liz hugs back s'more.
Daimon pulls back to look at her. "Are you okay?"
Liz hugs back even more than that.
Liz says "Oh, okay. Stressful night."
Daimon goes back to hugging. Mmmmmm happy Liz.
Daimon says "Yeah, me too."
Sarah follows Daimon's glance and call, and goes directly from startled to visibly relieved. "Oh, wonderful!"
Liz waves a file folder. "I have some *very* good shots of Bellmans, and the Kyrios did Kyriotype things, so I have a message only you can read."
Daimon says "Woah. A message in Daimonspeak."
Liz says "Well, none of us can read it, so, if we have a few moments before Terry shows up..."
Daimon says "He's not here, so yeah, I think so, sure."
Liz pulls out the printed message in hellscript. "Sephar, bless his soul, got this off another Game computer at Focals."
Liz says "A quick literal translation would be nice."
Aron murmurs, "This table, I believe, has been reserved for you." He watches Liz.
Liz says "One second, Daimon."
Daimon says "Hmmm?"
Sarah gives Aron a moderately curious glance.
Liz leaves Daimon with the paper, walks over to Aron.
Liz says "Hi."
Daimon looks at the paper.
<
Hitherby hums, with wingbeats scattered across Daimon's shoulders and lower back (Liz
presumably hugging in the middle), "I helped."
Aron pages: Missed it by >< much.
Liz keeps her voice low. "There's no really good way to say this, so... we're meeting a Balseraph
here shortly. Marath knows. I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of sight."
<
Sarah murmurs, "You always help, Hitherby."
<
Daimon reaches a hand up to stroke Hitherby.
Aron seems to be mildly curious about the paper, especially if it has to do with a Tether of
Nightmare, but no more than that. He considers Liz, for a time. "I'm relatively unwilling to do
that."
Hitherby scurries out of the way of Daimon's hand, but crawls momentarily onto his hand and
flutters a bug's wings in acknowledgement.
<
Liz says "Hmm. Let me put it this way: I'll happily give you a full debriefing after, and if there's
any problem, I'll be the first one to set you on the Bal's tail for further 'discussion' of any type you
feel necessary."
Daimon looks at Hitherby, and realizes how honest to god Goth he looks with a big bird perched
on his hand. He feels much better, and grins.
---
Naamah,
It is suspected that the Seneschal of Dark Humor in Washington DC has fled to either Lust
or the Media for assistance. You will therefore investigate their local Tethers, using your
authority as Servitors of the Game. Concerning the Lilim Daimonique, you are expected
to locate her also. Those angels believed to be her associates and involved in the theft of
data are to be brought in for questioning and then either brought down to Hades or
destroyed. Our Master restrains the Prince of Dark Humor for the moment: all
communications are to pass through me until further notice. The reputation of the Game
is not to be damaged at this time. Liaise with the others of the Alliance, and utilise their
resources. Your failure in this matter will not be tolerated.
Staciel, Countess of Intrigue, Servitor to the Prince of the Game.
---
<
Aron is quiet for a time. "I will sit there." He nods to a table, a moderate distance from the
reserved seating.
<
Daimon looks at the paper a long time.
<
<
<
<
<
<
Liz says "All right. May I assume that unless one of us at the table does something violent first,
you'll refrain from unilateral action?"
<
Daimon reads the letter a few times through.
Aron displays the book in his hand. "I am an editor of children's books. I am curious as to why
you expect violence."
Daimon finds it amusing to be holding his own death warrant.
Aron pages: Mmm, Malakite humor.
Sarah lays her hand over Daimon's. She makes an abortive motion toward his shoulder first, but
considers Hitherbugs and thinks better of that.
Daimon says "Ah ha. Today's bit of black humor. Not a day without it!"
Liz says "Aron, I'm not going to dance around. You're a Malakite, Terry's a Balseraph. I'd fully
expect you to take his head of as he walked in the door under normal circumstances."
A man saunters in through the door. He has an Armani suit, casually windswept, very good hair,
a wide smile, and is instantly recognisable to Daimon as Terry.
Sarah takes a soft breath. "Oh dear." It must be to Daimon's comment; she doesn't know Terry.
<
Liz doesn't see Terry walk in. Well, until he says something or the like.
Daimon turns, looks at the angels, looks at Terry, figures, 'And this is the NEXT bit of comedy!'
and says, "Hey."
Hitherby drifts off a few bugs as Sarah's hand approaches. They murmur softly, "I am Hitherby."
Possibly to Aron. Then they land again.
Aron says "Then you misunderstand us."
Terry grins, heading across the floor to give Daimon one of those LA hugs. "Hey, Daimie, baby!
Long time no see."
Aron follows Daimon's greeting, and regards the slickly dressed man.
Sarah glances up at the gentleman with good hair; murmurs, "Oh dear," again, even softer this
time.
>From afar, Aron resonates?
You paged Aron with 'Sure. :)'.
Daimon gets hugged. He goes, "Omph".
Hitherby swirls off Daimon's shoulders and ducks under the table assigned.
Liz says "Very possibly... oh dear."
Daimon says "Well, yeah, like a week."
Sarah flinches at Terry's approach.
<
Terry mutters in Daimon's ear, mid-hug, "Daimie, you need a better grade of insect spray. You
had bugs on you."
>From afar, Aron laughs.
Daimon mutters back, "You know, I have several very funny things to tell you. First off, those
aren't exactly bugs."
You paged Aron with 'Darn that honor resonance! Misfired again!'.
Liz turns away from Aron, towards Terry, suddenly very tense.
Liz forces herself to relax, and waits.
Terry mutters, "Hey, baby, they aren't the new fashion jewellery? I suppose they are kind of
neat..."
Daimon mutters, and sighs. "Well... no."
Aron moves quietly to the earlier indicated table, and sits.
Sarah suggests mildly, "Maybe we should all sit down."
Terry releases Daimon, looking mightily curious. He glances around with a big cheerful friendly
smile.
Terry says, "Sure, baby."
Sarah flinches again. Slightly less so this time.
Aron pages to Demiurge and arcangel: You know the beauty of Balseraphs? You don't even have
to resonate. They just SCREAM dishonorable.
Daimon starts fishing for a smoke. "I think the Reserved table is ours."
Liz walks distractedly over to Daimon, wraps an arm around him, hugs tight for a moment, and
nods. "It's ours."
Sarah draws out chairs, calmly.
Daimon hugs Liz back. "Then I suggest we sit down and start the introductions."
Terry says, "Cool." He whistles something that might be an advertising jingle, as he heads across
and drops into a seat. It is possibly coincidence that it has its back to the wall and a good view
of the door.
<
Daimon sits whereever he gets put.
Liz sits next to Daimon on one side.
Hitherby, cleverly clinging to the *underside* of the table, is not in the way of any feet.
Daimon reaches over and pulls the ashtray closer, so that he can get access.
Daimon tosses the email to Terry. "Pretty funny, huh?"
Daimon waves a hand. "This is Liz, and Sarah. I told you I was bringing friends."
Terry picks it up. He frowns at it. His frown deepens.
Aron pages: I hate to say this, but there's a chance Terry'll notice Aron's Aura.
Daimon leans back. "That is Today's Humorous Joke."
Terry says, "Like hell we're sheltering him. Come on, Daimie baby, you think that with a scoop
like that I'd sit on it?"
Daimon says "I can't go a day without one, you know. I need my fix."
<
Daimon blinks.
Terry glances at Aron, then back at the others at his table.
Daimon says "Wha?"
Terry lowers his voice. "Look, and you girls are real cute, but don't you want the blond guy to
hear it too? Come on, it's not as if I'm saying anything that wouldn't be news on CNN."
Aron writes down a note about potentially changing a young character's name from Eugenia to
Molly.
Liz says "Mmm, it's probably a good idea if he's sitting over there out of earshot."
Daimon looks totally confused.
Liz says "It's just a little precaution."
>From afar, Aron is attempting, btw, to eavesdrop. If it's too far, no worries.
Terry says, to Daimon, "Sympathy on the death threats, baby, I'll help if I can, and the blond guy
over there is someone weird."
<
<
Daimon blinks, and looks at the blond guy.
<
<
<
Daimon says "HUZZAH! LOVE ME BABY."
<
Sarah says, completely ignoring all Aron-related conversation to focus on two words, "Death
threats?"
Demiurge says "Liz, you already know who Aron is. Sarah, Daimon, and Hitherby, you all realise
the blond guy (Aron) is either celestial or demonic, but you're not sure which."
<
Daimon waves his hand at the paper. "Yep. My death warrant. Pretty cool."
Liz says "Aron is a regular of the place. He knows the owner."
Terry smiles at her, and taps the paper. "Yeah, look, here they're saying that they want to capture
Daimie here and his friendly angels - that you, babe? - and bring them in."
You paged Aron with 'You're probably close enough to hear, yes.'.
Daimon shrugs, non-committally.
Aron pages: Groovy.
Daimon says "It's been a long two days. That pretty much caps it."
Sarah does not look much relieved. "Nothing unsuspected, then."
Terry leans back. "Sounds as if Asmodeus is kinda busy, though, bless his little cotton socks, so
at least you're spared, you know, his real up close and personal attention."
Sarah flinches. Again.
Liz says "That's not very comforting."
Daimon says "Yeah well. You know, I keep getting to this point where I'm thinking, okay, it's
gotten as bad as it's going to get, it'll now get better. And every time, I'm proved wrong."
Terry reaches across to pat Sarah's hand, or at least to try. "Hey, baby, relax? I'm not going to
fink on you, trust me. We'll figure out a way round all this. Just trust old Teraphim."
<
Hitherby hums cheerfully, "You are looking in the wrong direction."
<
<
<
Demiurge says "Sarah, you throw off the insidious urge to trust the Balseraph."
Terry nearly jumps. "Who's got the table bugged!?"
Sarah pulls her hand back. She says with considerable distaste, "Please don't."
Daimon says "Literally?"
Terry eyes the table suspiciously. "Hey, I always do it literally, except when I don't."
Daimon says "Yeah, well, sometimes it's more literal then most. Um...."
Hitherby hums atonally, "You can call me Oboth."
Daimon looks at the blond guy in a very weird way.
Hitherby's words, despite the fact that most of her is dangling upside down from the table's
underside, come out right-side-up.
Daimon looks at the blond guy in a really weird way.
Liz leans over and whispers in Daimon's ear, "Another Angel. Creationer in Service to Dreams.
Knows the owner."
Sarah looks at Terry in a way that implies good hair is not fooling anyone, least of all her. Rather
as if she were regarding a mass of sewage and maggots tucked into Armani.
Daimon . o O ( What the FUCK? )
Daimon turns back to Terry. "Well, anyway."
Daimon lights another cigarette.
Terry inspects the underside of the table. "Hey, hi, baby. You want some sugar?"
Hitherby says, with a hint of cheer, "There seems no point in allowing eye contact or visual
contact. Well, more the latter than the former. Please, pretend I am not here. Except when I say
something. Then you may pretend I am here."
Terry repositions himself. "So, hey, Daimie. I've got some shit, but I'm not sure how much you'll
like it."
Daimon says "I'm sure it'll be just as amusing as my own death warrant."
Aron looks at his empty coffee cup mournfully. He motions for a refill.
A waiter comes by, refills Aron's coffee cup, and takes orders for those at the reserved table.
Hitherby admits, grudgingly, "Sugar would be desirable. But not artificial sweetener."
Long distance to Aron: Demiurge is very curious. What Needs did Daimon read?
Daimon considers ordering a shot of whiskey.
Daimon orders instead a reuben and a coke.
Terry requests cappucino for himself, and sugar for the nice bugs.
Liz says "Ginseng Tea."
Sarah orders a glass of orange juice.
The waiter nods, and fetches all these things, then retreats again.
Daimon is normalman.
Daimon says "So anyway, news."
Aron pages: #1: Redeem Azalea. That's the burning, consuming one.
Terry leans forward. "So, like, word has it there's not gonna be an official trial or whatever for
a month or so, but the Game's still keeping busy."
Liz imagines how Daimon looks, with two gorgeous, exceedingly tense women on either side of
him. Probably like a drug dealer.
Long distance to Aron: Demiurge nods.
Aron pages: Other needs include: find out more about Bellman's Studios and organize some
action against them, inspire Becca North to put to paper the stories her mother told her when she
was a child, make sure that Liz - whom he thinks is cruising for a Fall - doesn't. There's more.
Daimon says "How is the game keeping busy, man?"
Aron pages: Also, destroy the evil that is Terry, make amends for the Purity Crusade, try to bring
peace to a particular Habalite of Death, and a sudden need for more coffee.
Terry reaches into a pocket, and drops a small illustrated magazine on the table idly beside him.
"There's some of it in here. Mostly they're going for, you know, witnesses, and getting evidence,
or making evidence, or whatever."
Terry looks serious. "And, man, they seem to have fairly definite proof that your Boss has been
helping Renegades from pretty much all the Princes."
Daimon says "Jesus. You guys already printed up a magazine?"
Liz peers at the magazine.
Daimon says "Jesus H. Christ on a cracker. To all of that."
The magazine has, on the front cover, an artist's impression of a dark-winged Impudite in chains
and looking ironic.
Terry says, "Well, hey, the magazine isn't _all_ about it, most of it's the usual Shal-Mari stuff."
Daimon sighs heavily, and fingers through the magazine.
Daimon says "Same sex stuff?"
The magazine is, of course, in Helltongue.
Terry shrugs. "What can I say. It sells."
Daimon says "Indeed it does. And well, I might add."
You paged Daimon with 'True Confessions of a Fallen, True Confessions of a Redeemed, True
Confessions of a Traitor, Lost And Found, For Sale, Latest Trial Developments, News.'.
Daimon taps his finger on the cover of the magazine. "What kind of evidence are we talking
about? Are we talking Inquisition witnesses, where they are tortured until they say what the Game
wants them to?"
There are a lot of interesting illustrations and photographs, however.
Daimon pages: Amusing.
Hitherby hums a scattered series of notes.
Daimon pages: Hell's version of Time Magazine!
Terry looks deeply thoughtful in an angst-like manner. "Well, yeah, that is how the Game usually
gets its witnesses, but I figure there have to be some reliable ones in there for the Princes to be
taking it seriously."
Terry says, "Otherwise, you know, Asmodeus would have marched out the Lobotomy Legion a
thousand years ago."
Daimon says "Which Princes, Terry?"
Terry says, "Asmodeus is outright against him. Haagenti is supporting him. Andre and Nybbas
are sort of avoiding the issue and questioning the evidence a lot. Baal's trying to look neutral.
Lilith has pulled all the Frees out of it."
Terry thinks. "Beleth hasn't said anything. Kronos is putting on his deep inscrutable singular Fate
shit look. Belial's just yelling for someone to fight, and Vapula wants to try some new tech out."
Hitherby mutters, from under the table, "So this evidence has already been displayed?"
Hitherby adds, "To the Princes, at least?"
Daimon says "This bullshit is about as organized and rational as it ever is."
Terry counts off on his fingers. "Valefor, man, nobody's seen him, Saminga's just squatting a lot
and saying he wants to see if a Prince can die, and Malphas is everyone's really good best friend."
Daimon takes a long, thoughtful drag. "Of course. I expect nothing less."
Terry shrugs. "You know our people, baby. You know how they get."
Daimon says "I know exactly how everyone gets. And it gets old after a while."
Daimon lights his third smoke in a row.
Terry sips his cappucino. "So, hey, you got some stuff for me?"
Daimon says "So, now we're down to playing 'catch them with their pants down'."
Daimon says "I have the original data, started all this. I can give it to you, except the only copy
I had went to the Boss."
Daimon says "It detailed the Game's money laundering scheme. At the time, it looked like the
same old, same old. No big deal, I was doing my job."
Daimon drags deeply.
Daimon ticks off on his fingers. "We have the Opera, which we need to go back to. We have
Bellman's. We have Focals. We have a Mafia hit on a Kobalite tether. We have Mysterious Chicks
with Phone Numbers."
Terry nods, looking keen and inquisitive.
Terry says, "Mysterious Chicks?"
Daimon says "The Opera bugs me. Why would the Game invest in an Opera? I have no idea."
Hitherby mutters, thoughtfully, "There is experiential evidence indicating that two Game demons
couldn't catch a single flea in a sealed office environment, using all the powers at their command,
bug spray, and a Song of Thunder." She hesitates. "I am uncertain if that is considered a useful
scoop, but I personally find it amusing."
Daimon says "Mysterious mean looking kick your ass through your nose chicks."
Terry smiles. "Sound cute."
Daimon looks off into nowhere, his brain working. "Hitherby, what did you do?"
Terry says, to the table, "Hey, baby, you can go buzz the Game with fleas any time. They just
don't have no original thinking there."
Hitherby hums, quietly, "Investigated."
Daimon says "You know, I have a feeling we're going into one of those 'I don't want to know'
areas."
Liz says "And a bit."
Terry says, "Oh, come on now, baby. It won't hurt to tell me."
<
Liz points towards the Email message. "That was taken at the same time.
<
Daimon looks at Liz. "Anything else taken?"
<
<
<
Sephar peeks out of Liz's pocket in mouseform.
Daimon says "Who is Sancuzzi?"
Liz says "Other than any dignity the Game Lilim might have had left, no."
Daimon says "That's the next stop."
Terry whips out notepad and pen. "Sancuzzi. Right. I'll take a look at that one."
Daimon ticks it off on his fingers. "Bellman Films. Sancuzzi Associates. Tobaka Partners. That
last one might be Yakuza, Terry."
Hitherby hums, cheerfully, "I observed them, Balseraph. I'm not certain what your question is."
Terry says, "Ooookay," as he scribbles. "Sounds good. Multiethnic evil."
Liz says "We are fairly sure that Bellmans is a Tether to Nightmares."
Daimon says "Sancuzzi is Italian.... Terry, I am originally Italian, dude."
Hitherby makes a choked noise under the table at Daimon's comment.
Daimon blinks.
Daimon says "Fuck."
Daimon blinks again.
Daimon says "Fuck" again for emphasis, just to make sure they heard him the first time.
Liz says "That's right, you weren't up yet."
Liz says "Sorry."
Daimon orders a drink.
Daimon says "Oh my fucking god."
Aron winces.
Terry purses his lips. "Nightmares. And Beleth sitting on the fence. This is _hot_ shit, baby."
Daimon says "Terry, What did I DO?"
Terry says, "Gee, baby, sounds like you may just have saved all your friends by telling me about
this one."
Daimon digs around in his pocket of his coat and comes up with the small notepad (along with
several other very strange things) and tosses it on the table.
Daimon says "I took NOTES from the file from Bellman's computer."
The notepad is covered in helltongue scrawl.
Terry brushes away the strange rubber things, and peers at the notepad. "Hm." He wrinkles his
nose. "You thought they were Lust?"
Daimon says "Well, so I'm a moron. No, look."
Daimon taps his finger on where he copied the emails from Focals and Asmodeus and back.
Terry whistles, low.
Liz says "Translation please, Daimon?"
Daimon says "Look, I was sent up to retrieve two renegades. This is not MY line of work. I was
not informed of angels."
Liz says "Neither of us read the lingo."
Terry says, quietly, "Hey, honey, this studio place was doing something for Asmodeus or the
Game."
Liz says "Yeah, we knew that much."
Daimon translates, "Focalor - you are to investigate the Opera House, where two Renegades of
Dark Humor are concealing themselves. They possess some manner of artifact, which is also to
be brought back with them. Should they have any local allies or angelic links, retrieve these also
or any information. Proof of this is required at the highest levels. - A. Attached file contains
relevant data."
Daimon says "That's not it. You're missing it."
Terry says, "And it kind of looks like it was something important, for it to rate a personal
message. And now you say it's Nightmares there."
Daimon says "Look..."
Daimon waves his hands.
Liz says "No, no, the email message, Daimon."
Daimon says "You know why they hit the Kobalite tether?"
Daimon says "To grab the guy I dropped off. Lucrezio."
Liz says "Oh no."
Liz sighs.
Daimon says "Oh yes."
Terry frowns. "You sure of that?"
Daimon says "Because they had the Hearts already."
Liz says "Maybe we should have left him at the other tether."
Terry says, "I hadn't got there yet, Daimie, but this isn't the only place they've hit."
Daimon says "Am I sure? No, of course not."
Daimon says "No, the game was coming after those two guys to use was Witnesses."
Terry says, "They'be been bringing the boot down - or someone has - in other places too."
Liz hmms.
Daimon says "Of course, one is dead."
Liz says "Daimon, one more thing."
Daimon says "Yeah?"
Terry shrugs. "Besides, the Seneschal there may already have sent your guy down before they got
there."
Liz says "The Seneschal: we know he got away. I think he managed to get healing too."
Liz says "And I might be able to find him, given a little time."
Terry directs his attention to Liz. "Where do you think he is, honey?"
Daimon throws up his hands. "I'm a moron. Nothing new or unusual."
Daimon . o O ( Oh, man, Terry, not Liz. )
Liz says "I think he's with Lust or the Media. You're Media, so he's with you, or Lust. If you don't
know where he is, do the math."
Terry nods. "Nice work."
Daimon grins. "I thought you were too old and feeble to do math, Terry."
Terry smirks. "Daimie, baby, as long as I can count to five I can keep track of how many people
are in bed with me."
Daimon laughs. "Excellent!"
Daimon says "I wanna hang with THIS guy, man."
Terry grins, and high-5s Daimon across the table.
Liz looks at Sarah, rolls her eyes.
Daimon says "Now if only your bifocals are good enough to let you read their phonenumbers, and
your hands stop shaking so you can open the snaps."
Hitherby boils up from under the table at the sound of violence, and then hangs there, slightly
embarrassed.
Aron looks up from his book and raises an eyebrow.
Sephar chuckles from within Liz's pocket.
Terry frowns at Daimon. "Careful, baby, or I'll start talking about you in high heels and that cute
little wiggle."
Daimon is still grinning. "Oh, you know you want some, man."
Daimon waves a hand. "Okay, okay, enough hilarity."
Liz idly wishes she had the Song of Tongues so she could mutter in Yiddish.
Terry leans his chin on his hands and bats his eyelashes at Daimon. He does an obvious imitation
of someone. "I crave your fresh young body, you beautiful Lilim child."
You paged Daimon with 'Guess who he's imitating. ;)'.
Daimon pages: I assume me.
You paged Daimon with 'Andre.'.
Daimon pages: EXCELLENT.
Daimon throws his head back and laughs out loud.
Terry smirks.
Aron frowns.
Daimon says "Oh, but dread lord prince, I can't possibly avoid your embrace. Your... muscle...
is so... powerful..."
Daimon says "Dude, my life makes sense again."
Terry attempts to look deeply sincere. "I respect you for your mind and heart, dear. Your fragile
body means nothing to me, save as a mere physical encumbrance."
Sarah twitches. More than somewhat.
Sephar peeks out of Liz's pocket.
Daimon says "I have no choice to take you here and now, you sexy dark lord of the pit you."
Hitherby skulks half of her back under the table, while the rest of her drifts over towards Aron
and lands across the table from him.
Terry says, in the same tone, "And is that a mouse in the lady's pocket, or is she just glad to see
me?"
Aron looks over the top of his book, then sets it aside. He lays his pencil on his notes, inspecting
the insect.
Daimon sits up, slightly startled. "Huh?" He looks around, and notices Sephar. "Oh, no. Well, I
doubt he's turned on by your presence, man."
Hitherby wing-mutters softly to Aron, "I have concluded that you have been sent in answer to my
need for an expert on infernal law."
Terry sighs, and puts his hand to his heart. "Curses. My infernal charm is defeated. I will retire
to a monastery for at least half an hour."
Aron considers. "If that is so, then the answer is that you do not truly have a need for an expert
on infernal law."
Sephar giggles and climbs up and out and bows to Terry, paw over heart.
Sephar settles on the table top to watch Terry.
Daimon says "Just long enough to take some nice virgin monks, methinks. Bend over the table
and drop your trousers, God Boy! Oh... you don't wear trousers... how convenient."
Aron's lips twitch, smilewards.
Aron very carefully, very deliberately focuses his attention on Hitherby.
<
Hitherby fans out into a frownie face, from Aron's perspective. "You are certain?"
<
<
Aron shakes his head. "Not certain, no. What do you wish to know?"
Hitherby explains, seriously, "Do Infernal tribunals require evidence or does the knowledge of
evidence suffice?"
Aron sips his coffee. "I imagine it depends on the rules appropriate to the audience. As I
understand it - and I do not understand it well - justice is a fickle and false thing in Hell."
Hither-by Aron sighs, softly, a carefully-controlled mechanical sound having nothing to do with
the exhalation of breath. "A Prince would be an unimpeachable witness, of course." She hesitates.
"Of course, if there were an unimpeachable witness or two, judgment would be immediate. Would
it not?"
Hitherby shows no appreciation for the fact that Aron probably has little idea about which she
speaks, but then, how would a set of bugs show this thing?
Aron leans back in his chair. "Again, I am unsure. Knowing the Game, judgement would come
when it would have the most positive impact for the Game's plans."
Aron appends, "And the least negative."
Hitherby crawls around in delicate unfolding and closing spirals. "Interesting. Under what
circumstances would the destruction of another Prince be most propitious?"
Aron says "You ask me to think like a Demon. I think that the destruction of a Prince is most
propitious under all circumstances."
Liz asks, carefully, "Are you two done yet?"
Daimon says "I _think_ so. But one can never have enough hilarity."
Liz says "Um... okay."
Aron's eyes slant towards Daimon. He says nothing.
Liz says "So, Terry."
Daimon says "Hey, without a little bit a humor, I'd probably be banging my head against a wall
and looking for a razor right now."
Hitherby wing-mutters to herself for a few moments, and then points out, "Murder is murder, but
a painless death is better than a torturous one. Let me rephrase. Under what circumstances would
the destruction of another Prince have the most overt benefits towards the Game?"
Liz says "Good point."
Terry smiles at Liz. "Done, honey. Poor Daimon needed a laugh, right?"
Daimon says "Yep. I feel better, thanks."
Liz says "It's preferable to him breaking down, yes."
Hitherby suggests to Aron, "After all, the destruction of a Prince and a stronger Game is less
useful to us than the destruction of a Prince and a weaker Game."
Terry says, "Goooood."
Daimon shrugs.
Aron steeples his fingers. "When the destruction of that Prince not only removed an enemy but
silenced opposition through example and caused neutral elements to polarize properly."
Liz says "And he had a hard day yesterday, so I'm more than happy to cut him some slack."
Daimon says "Or else she'd reach out and smack me upside the head."
Terry says, businesslike, "So, Daimie, where do you want to go looking with your cute angel
friends, and where do you want me to start off? I'm kind of guessing that too many cooks in one
place may burn the omelette, right?"
Hitherby adds, thoughtfully, to Aron, "Although I may disagree about the general principle.
Perhaps if we meet another time, we will discuss that further." She hesitates. "So perhaps the
Game would wish to draw it out, to spread conviction of their case and to make their power more
evident than a quick and sealed verdict?" She considers. "If this conversation disturbs you, I can
depart."
Daimon says "I think we're committed to Bellman's... I think. I'm not sure. But I might be best
served by finding that Seneschal. You might be best off looking into those Italians."
Liz says "I think I can make...arrangements for handling Bellmans."
Liz says "Yes, the Italians."
Terry nods, and makes some more scribbled notes. "Okay, will do. Hey, a Mafia scandal would
be just fine."
Daimon says "We need to know who they actually are, and what their connection to the Game
really is."
Aron shakes his head. "Certain conjectures worry me, but not the conversation as a whole." He
smiles. "We have not been fully introduced."
Liz says "I think Focals will also have some troubles with the SEC and other regulatory agencies
in the near future."
Liz says "Ah, I know."
Liz smiles at Terry now.
Daimon looks at Liz. "Yeah?"
Daimon lights his fifth smoke this lunchtime.
Liz says "Focals had an Impudite working for him."
Terry smiles back at Liz, in a friendly way. "Had?"
Hitherby hums, under Daimon's table, "Is not mortal crime connected with the Game in general?
I am failing to recall another Prince to which it is suited. Save for very specific crimes."
Liz says "Sephar, what was her name? Veruthiel?"
Hitherby wing-mutters to Aron, "Hitherby, Domination of Jordi."
Sephar says "I'm not sure if that was the Impudite, but that may be her name. It was the name of
someone that they were speeding through Trauma."
Aron replies, "Taroniel, Virtue in the service of Dream."
<
Liz says "Verthurel."
Aron pages to Demiurge and Hitherby: Hitherby is enresonated.
Liz says "Probably an impudite."
Daimon says "They weren't speeding Focalor himself through, were they?"
Liz says "No."
Sephar says "Nope."
Liz says "Focalor may not ever...quite make it out of trauma."
Liz says "No loss."
Daimon says "Oh really."
You paged Hitherby and Aron with 'Most ignoble and noble things you've done this week,
Hitherby.'.
Daimon says "That's too damn bad. His head would be nice to pick. But this Impudite will do."
Terry looks thoughtful. "You want me to take this sweet little Impudite under my fatherly wing,
like, and slurp up her cute little brains?"
Liz says "There's also the Lilim of the Game, and a Djinn there now, also of the Game."
Daimon says "She's in Trauma now, Terry, so the slurping will have to wait."
Daimon says "Although that image is sort of nasty."
Terry slurps at his cappucino, and looks misunderstood.
Liz sighs at Terry. "No, actually I'd like to apologize for sticking a gun in her mouth and pulling
the trigger, and then give her a chance to Redeem, but, yes, if she shows up, I'd like to know who
she's working for, and why. Possibly Vapula.
Sephar looks thoughtful at that.
Daimon taps the notepad. "Tokoda Industries."
Liz says "Same if you have access to 'who works for who' records. I'd imagine the Media knows
who all the Players are."
Daimon says "They had alot of hardware in there."
Terry says, "Sure, honey. Don't you think it would be a good idea to tell me about the whole
incident, in case I get the wrong approach?"
<
<
<
<
<
Hitherby pages to Demiurge and Aron: Most ignoble: causing a Shedite unnecessary pain in order
to maintain anger. Most noble: claiming to mistrust a friend when it was someone else's mistrust
requiring her actions.
Demiurge says "Gee, Liz, scum as this Balseraph doubtless is, it might actually help if you told
him all about it, in case he says something wrong later."
Demiurge says "Other people here are, of course, free to kick Liz hard under the table."
Liz says "Put simply, one of our friends got stuck in a Vapula Trap. I went in to get him out.
Daimon helped."
Liz says "Along the way, I wound up putting this Impudite in Trauma."
Sarah twitches.
You paged Liz with 'And Sarah kicks you under the table.'.
Liz ows.
Liz pages: Does that snap me out of it?
Terry nods, listening with an interested expression.
You paged Liz with 'It might make you consider exactly what you're doing.'.
Aron offers his hand, should a Hitherbug or three wish a perch. "How have you become tangled
up in this?"
Daimon smokes is smoke thoughtfully. Every once in a while, he eyes the weird blond man.
Hitherby, under Daimon's table, hums, thoughtfully, "A question has occurred to me about that
Lilim. The Game is not known for teaching its Lilim -- mind-control techniques not involving their
resonance, yes?"
You paged Liz with 'Like, you still think it would be a good idea to tell him, but you can see your
friends disapprove.'.
Terry eyes the table. "Mind-control things? What sort of mind-control things?" He doesn't sound
at all guilty.
Daimon says "I dunno, Hitherby. I've never even done a short job for the Game."
Liz slows down (for her), and peers at Terry, and says, "And after I finish this story, which I
doubt everyone is happy about telling me, I am going to consider putting my gun in your mouth,
to see if your resonance still works after that. If it's any comfort, I wouldn't pull the trigger."
Hitherbugs hum uneasily. "There was a momentary sensation as if she had failed to Geas me, but,
well, I noticed, and she hadn't said anything yet, and she hadn't done any favors for me since the
last time I was celestial."
Liz says "As it were, we got our friend out, and a ton of info on the Game, including the bit about
Bellmans, the Mafia, and the Japanese guys."
Terry frowns. "Honey, you really don't want to put your gun in my mouth. Really."
<
<
<
Aron smiles, suddenly. To his end of the Hitherswarm, he offers, "Do you know that Liz was
afraid I would be violent?" His eyes twinkle.
<
Sephar's ears go up at Aron.
<
You paged Daimon with 'However, you would know that Terry tends to do interesting things to
angels who threaten to put guns in his mouth.'.
Daimon pages: Yes, I assume I do.
You paged Daimon with 'Not fatal things. Just interesting things.'.
Daimon says, quietly, "Liz, you don't want to do that."
Daimon pages: Why, so do I, come to think of it.
Liz smiles evenly at Terry. "Not here, because that would disturb Daimon, and because, much as
I'm severely inclined to distrust you, you're useful, and I think we're all working at least in
parallel."
Hither-by Aron considers. "I have pledged myself to one of the relevant causes."
Liz says "So, I'm not going to do it."
Daimon says, more forcefully now, "Liz, please."
A waiter comes over with several covered dishes, muttering, "Speciality of the house," as he
deposits them. There is the smell of Good Italian Food.
Aron nods. "As have I, with Nightmare's involvement." He flicks eyes to the waiter, grins.
Terry smiles brightly. "No problem. I'm sure we'll get along just fine."
Sephar's nose wiggles as the food is set down.
Aron murmurs, soft enough that only Hither-be-near can hear, "A splendid use of weapons."
Hither-by Aron buzzes gently. "Then we will no doubt encounter eachother further."
Liz says "Perhaps, but part of getting along involves not using your resonance on me. It's highly
impolite. And dangerous, if I happen to get ahead of myself. I have a past history of shooting at
people who try that sort of thing. But I'm sure a gentleman of your obvious verbal skill wouldn't
need to stoop to such things. And now, lunch."
Terry eyes the food, and sighs. "This would put so much weight on me. I really shouldn't. And
I ought to get going, Daimie. Get my people moving, you know."
Liz turns to her tea.
Terry says, to Daimon, "If there's nothing else serious, you've got my number, right?"
Liz smiles reassuringly at Daimon.
Liz sips.
Daimon says "Yeah, sure man. I'm sorry about this."
Liz says "One more thing, Terry."
Aron nods. "I look forward to it."
Liz says "We're likely being followed, possibly by Servitors of Nightmare."
Terry shrugs. "Hey, no worries. I'll do my best." He glances to Liz. "Yeah, honey?"
Liz says "Watch your back on the way out."
Hitherby, under the table, mutters, "I have one thing as well ..."
Terry nods. "Thanks for the tip, baby. I'll see you round." He glances down at the table. "Yeah,
buggie?"
<
<
Hitherby says to Terry, "The Game is not simply ridding itself of a detested Prince. It is making
a power ploy, an intimidation ploy, a grand mind game to push other Princes into servility. I
should suggest that embarrassment is as potent a weapon against it, under these circumstances,
as damaging facts. Asmodeus will wait until the Game has been shown strong and resolute and
so forth before he moves to try --" She hums quietly. "This is why I mentioned the incident earlier.
If you wish to help, then please consider this."
Sephar contemplates, "An Assie wedgie?" flicking one ear.
Terry nods. "Point taken, buggie. I'll see what I can do, and I'll make it a good expose. Enjoy the
sugar."
Terry rises, and claps Daimon on the shoulder, waves a hand limply at the two women and the
mouse, and heads for the exit.
Liz slowly lets out a long siiiiigh and her shoulders slump.
Liz says "God..."
Liz says "Daimon, I can see, how under other circumstances, Terry would be really fun to hang
out with."
Terry vanishes out of the door, perfect hair and all.
Aron pushes aside his coffee and rises. He makes straight for the reserved table.
Liz says "As it is, he resonated me *twice*."
You paged Daimon with 'Terry goes for redheads, btw. ;)'.
<
Daimon pages: That comes out of my stories, I think. :)
Daimon says "Yeah, I noticed. But Liz, look.... Threatening him is not bright."
Daimon says "It just amuses the hell out of him and he like to be... amusing."
Long distance to Daimon: Demiurge steals from the best. ;)
Liz says, dryly, "I noticed."
Liz says "He's probably got about umpteen more more forces than I do, too."
Liz siiiiighs.
Aron clears his throat, at an appropriate distance. He edges into the conversational space and
offers Daimon his hand. "We haven't met."
Daimon takes Aron's hand. "Daimon Lightner."
Aron says "Aron."
Daimon waves to the now empty seat, and takes some Italian food for himself.
Sephar peers up at Aron.
Daimon answers Liz, "Something like that."
Sephar says "Did I introduce myself to you, Aron, the last time we met?"
Liz says "You'll remember Sephar, the dancing rat."
Sarah looks warily across the table at Aron, and nods to him politely.
Sephar dances, mouse-like this time.
Aron nods. "The electrical dancing rat." He turns to Sarah, and offers his hand. "Nor have we
met."
Hitherby rejoins herself and lands on the table proper.
Daimon says "This Italian food is really good. You guys should have some."
Hitherby hops over Sephar as he dances.
Sarah takes his hand, and shakes it. "You clearly know the others. I am Chephirah, Cherub of
Destiny. People call me Sarah."
Liz sips her tea, and continues to try to relax, her shoulders shaking slightly.
<
<
Sephar peers at a bit of pasta with cheese on the edge of a plate. "May I have that?"
You paged Aron with 'Sarah has the breadth of spirit to be a truly strong and wise person, even
if she might never take the course that leads to being Word-Bound. She is genuinely concerned
about those she protects, and dedicated to Yves.'.
Daimon moves some pasta and cheese around so that Sephar has plenty of access.
Daimon reaches out a hand, and lays it,under the table, on the top of Liz's thigh, reassuringly.
You paged Aron with 'Conversely, there is the shadow of a depth where she fiercely protects her
documents, becoming a Djinn of Kronos, and never letting another person near, forgetting all
human caring.'.
You paged Aron with 'But she has a strong moral structure and dedication.'.
Liz reaches down and squeezes Daimon's hand.
Sephar picks up the piece of pasta and nibbles happily.
Aron murmurs, "Taroniel, Virtue in service to Dream." He smiles with surprising warmth. "You
take a difficult course."
Sarah twitches.
Daimon blinks.
Sarah says, blandly, "I fulfil my duties and vows."
Aron says "I know."
Daimon says "Oh boy. Well... today is inteesting."
Sarah reaches across, under the table, to pat Daimon's hand comfortingly.
Aron turns to Daimon. "Isn't it, just."
Daimon says "Indeed."
Daimon leans over to Liz, and whispers, "I do love you," in her ear. Then he shovels in a mouth
full of pasta.
Liz's eyes go wide for a moment, and then she blinks at Daimon, and *smiles*.
Liz says "I think there's hope for us all yet."
Aron eats a bit of rigatoni, thoughtfully. About to say something, he notices Liz's reaction to some
unheard words, and turns back to his food.
Daimon wipes his mouth off with his napkin, then leans over to kiss Liz... nice and reassuring.
See? Everything is going to be okay.
Liz says "In any case, Aron was nice enough to let us meet with Terry in private, but I did
*mmm*!"
Hitherby hums, quietly, "Hope implies that we need to guess."
Liz kisses back, smiles. "You taste Italian."
Daimon says "Thank you. I try."
Liz says "Anyway..."
Liz says "I did promise him something of a briefing."
Daimon says "Anyway. Aron. Tell us something about yourself other then your Virtuousness."
Daimon gestures with a fork.
Sephar ducks the fork.
Daimon says "Oh! Sorry Sephar!"
Sephar says "S'okay."
Aron tuts. "If you pause and understand virtue, you'll... well, let's save that for a later day."
Hitherby hums, "He is an expert in infernal law, although he is too humble to admit it. And he has
an incisive mind!"
Sephar peers up at Aron.
Daimon says "Amazing."
Liz laughs. "Ah, you were discussing Infernal Law with Aron, Hitherby?"
Daimon says "I am Amazed. Today is the day of Amazing Things."
Aron says "My new friend flatters me, I'm afraid. I was only a sounding board for its ideas."
Hitherby skitters in circles. "Indeed. It occurred to me that the most expeditious solution might
be a removal of the evidence."
Liz says "That'd depend on the evidence, wouldn't it?"
Hitherby says "Er, I did not mean that Indeed in answer to you, Taroniel."
Aron tries to hide a smile.
Liz looks too dragged out to be tense. Instead she just munches on garlic bread.
Hitherby nods. "And how many Princes have already seen it."
Liz says "Anyway, Aron."
Hitherby bobs, not nods.
Liz says "That was Terry, Balseraph of the Media, God help us all."
Demiurge notes, for anyone who has a good sense of smell, that the plate that got left in Terry's
place has an _astonishing_ smell of garlic coming from it.
Daimon says "I swear to God, this is really good food."
Liz says "And Daimon's agent."
Daimon grabs the magazine left for him by Terry, and starts flipping through.
Hitherby's keen senses are legendary.
Sephar snuffles at the food Terry was given.
Liz says "Terry has agreed, I think, to get some info on what Asmodeus is doing re: Kobal, who
was arrested for helping Renegades from Hell."
Aron swallows and nods. "Divinely so." He turns and listens to Liz.
Daimon says "You know this picture on the cover here doesn't do any justice."
Sephar settles back to eating bits from Daimon's plate.
Liz says "The sides seem to be: Dark Humor and Gluttony vs the Game, Nightmares, and possibly
Vapula's crew."
You paged Daimon with 'Bondage art, sex art, art art, tattoos, "trial transcripts", "true
confessions"...'.
Daimon pages: Oh, I'll linger on the art, thanks.
Aron says "It would seem, then, that Dark Humor's time has come."
Liz says "Lust and Media are leaning towards Dark Humor. War is staying Neutral, maybe. They
may also be leaning towards Dark Humor if the Habby I ran into yesterday is actually of War."
Daimon says "How do people get themselves into these positions? They're more limber then I."
You paged Daimon with 'Buy Leather Gear Cheap!" "Get your chainsaws here!" "Make a friendly
contact with someone who wants to have plenty of non-committal sex!"'.
Daimon looks up sharply at Aron.
Liz says "She was strictly honorable, in any case. The Virtue of Fire didn't cut her down on the
spot."
Daimon frowns.
Liz says "Ah, what else..."
Daimon clears his throat. "Hardly. It's not over yet."
Hitherby hums, quietly, "Taroniel, I believe strongly that this must not happen. My belief is not
based on reasoning, but on faith and revelation."
Liz says "The status of the other Princes is unclear."
Daimon pages: Mmmmm.... ads. What's the story on the Trial stuff?
Aron says "Then your belief is all the stronger, Hitherby. But explain to me why, save to ease the
suffering of Mr. Lightner, this must not happen."
Aron says this without censure, and waits, attentively.
Daimon while flipping through the pages, says, "Oh, I think this has all just begun."
You paged Daimon with 'Several transcripts with Renegades saying they got help from Kobalites,
and a couple of Kobalites saying they had orders to help Renegades, though they were from
higher-ups, not from Kobal himself.'.
Liz says "Oh, Daimon originally worked for Dark Humor, as I mentioned. He's currently serving
Judgement."
Daimon pages: Anyone I know?
Aron says, only, "What interesting taste he displays."
You paged Daimon with 'So far nobody has personally incriminated Kobal his very self. Hm. No,
not personally. You might recognise a name or two vaguely.'.
Daimon doesn't close the magazine, but he does just stare levelly at Aron.
Liz says "He's an interesting guy. In an increasingly good sense, I think."
Liz leans over, kisses Daimon again.
Hitherby wing-mutters, softly, to Taroniel, "A theory, then."
Daimon pages: Anyone I recognize as high up?
Daimon backs down, and kisses Liz back.
Aron listens to Hitherby.
You paged Daimon with 'The name of Tashnik, who holds the Word of Goth Humor, is cited by
one of the witnesses as being the person who gave orders for him to help the Renegades. Tashnik
is said to be answering the Game's questions at the moment.'.
Daimon looks back down at the magazine. "Ah, man, even the goths aren't safe."
Hitherby says, quietly, "Humor and hope are permanently intertwined. Kobal is necessarily a
horrible evil on Earth. However, perhaps he is the brightest thing Hell has -- in Hell itself. And
the demons deserve hope, too."
Liz looks down at the Magazine. "My God..."
Daimon pages: Hmm. Keen. I still poke through the magazine. Hmmm, art.
Hitherby wing-mutters, "A theory."
Liz says "The Media puts *that* out?"
Hitherby whispers, "And that is all."
Aron considers. "It has, at first hearing, some merit." He turns to Daimon.
Daimon says "It's not bad. I still can't see how these people can get themselves into these
positions. They must work out or something."
Liz looks more or like she's stepped on a spitting cobra mummy Servitor of Saminga.
Aron turns to Daimon. "I've already told your, ah, associates that I will help them."
Sephar blinks quietly at that.
Liz says "I think I want to go wash my eyeballs."
Daimon looks up. "Ah, yeah. I figured as much. And I know your comment. 'But you're scum'.
So let's just say it and get it out of the way."
Daimon says "Actually, Liz, it's kind of tame. You should see the porno mags."
Sarah murmurs, "You are /not/."
Liz says "I'll pass, thanks."
Aron seems amused. "Mr. Lightner, do you think you are useful to me?"
You paged Aron with 'If you're peering at The Magazine, then the wings on that Malakite chained
in the picture there are all _wrong_. They don't bend that way.'.
Daimon shrugs. "Dunno."
>From afar, Aron looks relieved.
Aron says "Guess."
Daimon says "Probably not."
Aron nods. "Precisely."
Daimon says "Cool."
Aron says, calmly, "If I honestly thought you were scum, with you being of no particular use to
me, you would be a dead man."
Daimon goes back to eating.
Daimon says "I figure you're waiting until everyone is gone. Then to the back alley."
Sarah glances across to Aron. "More accurately, there would be a considerable and unfortunate
tangle."
Aron holds up a hand. "As it is, you have flattered my sister's cooking. You cannot be all evil."
Daimon says "Oh, well, Sarah, I think he'd be polite enough to ask you to break the attunement
FIRST."
Sarah flinches. For the first time since Terry left, even.
Daimon says "It's very good Italian food. And I should know."
Liz sighs. "Look, we had to do this with Terry, and I'm sorry about it. Could we -not- do this with
Aron too? Or is today symmetric?"
Sarah looks at Daimon for a moment, then studies the table.
Daimon says "Sorry. I'm being rude."
Aron nods. "She's one of the best," he says with warmth.
Liz says "Cause if it is, I'll wind up taking Dusk Essence, and that'd suck for everyone here."
Sephar blinks at Liz.
Aron shakes his head. "No. The monk bit. That was rude." He pauses. "Aren't you people
supposed to be funny?"
Daimon grins in sort of a hard way, lips pressed together. "It _is_ funny. If you know Andre."
Aron nods. "Ah."
Aron says "Pass the garlic bread, won't you?"
Hitherby says, quietly, "Malakim are just angels. They have the same honor as other angels; it is
just a slightly higher priority. And only slightly; all angels have honor."
Aron says "I like you more and more, Hitherby."
Sarah passes garlic bread mutely.
Daimon shrugs, and eats. "And no one says I ever understand. Gee."
As Aron breaks the garlic bread, a folded origami piece of orange paper is evident inside.
Aron pauses. Silently, he removes the paper, inspecting it to see if unfolding is appropriate.
An edge of writing shows at the bottom. Clearly unfolding is appropriate.
Aron does so, then, quickly and precisely.
Liz says "Gift from the chef?"
Aron shrugs, helplessly. His eyes flicker over the paper as he reads.
The note says, in angelic script, "Taroniel, kid, I need to see you at SF this evening, okay? Sorry
about the short notice. Hey, and be nice to the poor Lilim. Eli."
Aron stares.
Aron folds the paper back into its original shape, carefully. "I have to go."
Daimon lifts his eyebrows.
Aron begins to laugh. "And you, Mr. Lighter. I don't think you'll be able to safely avoid
redemption."
Sephar says "Do you need anyone to go with you?"
Daimon says "I will if I stay Funny just long enough."
Hitherby buzzes cheerfully. "Fare well, Taroniel."
Liz says "Bye Aron."
Aron chuckles. "I'm not so sure." He bows from the neck. "My Lord calls, and I'm away."
Daimon waves after him.
Sephar waves then, quietly.
Sarah glances up at Aron; blinks, once, decidedly startled. "Good fortune, then."
Aron waves and *whistles* as he makes his way to his room to pack.
Liz blinks. "His Lord?"
Liz clues. "Goodness."
Liz looks after Aron, just a little bit startled.
Daimon says "Woah. Cool."
Liz says "Yeah."
Daimon says "Dunno what he means about Redemption though. I just met the guy."
>From afar, Aron will hug Marath a lot, tell her what's up, thank her and head out.
Liz excuses herself to go to the Ladies' Room.
Long distance to Aron: Demiurge nods.
Sarah returns to table-study.
Daimon looks at Sarah.
Daimon says "Eat up. It's good for you."
Hitherby lands on an abandoned plate, perhaps Terry's?
Sarah does as told. This improves her mood somewhat.
Daimon peers at Hitherby and Sephar.
Daimon sighs heavily.
Daimon says "This day has sucked. Can I start over again?"
Sephar peers up at Daimon.
Sephar says "It did? Sounds like you got Terry working well, and there are some connections
you've made and we're getting somewhere."
Sephar says "What sucks?"
Daimon says "My entire existence. But it's okay, I'm dealing with it."
Sephar says "Hokay."
Sephar looks rather uncertain, now.
Hitherby says, cheerfully, "I had fun today. Well, retroactive fun."
Hitherby navigates Italian food like the giant plate-sized maze it is.
Sarah glances Daimonward. Then Hitherward. "Retroactive fun?"
Sephar says "retro-fun?"
Hitherby hums cheerfully. "Well, I couldn't have fun at Focals until it was over. Too much risk
to my host."
Daimon says "Okay, we got Terry moving. But Liz almost put a gun down his throat. We have
another Malakite, and I'm not overly sure he won't take me back in an alley and shoot me. There
is evidence that my Boss is doing really honestly treason things, although I have yet to see this
evidence. I dunno."
Sarah says calmly enough, "No one is going to take you back in an alley and shoot you."
Daimon says "Stab? Maim? Maybe just break some limbs?"
Hitherby says, softly, "It depends on what kind of Renegades he was helping, doesn't it?"
Sephar says "Nope, no breakage."
Daimon says "Yeah. The problem is that I think the people he was helping... are people like me,
and that worries me seriously."
Sephar says "Ah."
Daimon says "You sure? Not even a little breakage?"
Daimon says "Maybe some popping of joints."
Sephar says "Well, I'm sure."
Hitherby says, "Then that is a good thing, no, Daimon?"
Daimon says "It would release all the pent up tension!"
Hitherby says "No. Helping people like you."
Sephar says "Not with Sarah and Liz around. I'll try and give 'em a wedgie, would that help?"
<
Daimon grins. "You definitely need to work on your wedgies."
Sarah says "Ahh... possibly, I suppose."
Sephar bobs.
Daimon grins. "Sephar, you are a most excellent Kyriotate of great wedgie potential."
Hitherby says "It cannot be treason to help Heaven or goodness. Any more than it could be
treason to give humanitarian aid to an enemy in a war."
Sephar cheers up and nibbles more pasta and cheese.
Daimon says "Well, technically, Hitherby, it IS treason."
Hitherby says "Okay, technically. But not ethically."
Sarah says "Hell is rarely concerned with ethics."
Hitherby says "Daimon is. I had thought."
Sarah says "Daimon is not equivalent to Hell."
Daimon says "We weren't talking about me. I'm generally miswired. We're talking in general."
Hitherby says "My apologies. I thought you were personally concerned."
Hitherby hums. "What is this white crumbly stuff?"
Daimon says "Cheese."
Sephar says "But if he were generally helping 'mis-wired' folks... it might include you, Daimon."
Daimon says "That's what worries me deeply."
Sephar says "Why?"
Daimon says "Because it's okay for me to be screwed up. It's not okay for.... for... for a Prince
of Hell to be miswired in just that way."
Daimon says "I am _just_ a servitor. I spread a Word. I do a job. That's all."
Sarah says softly, "Why wouldn't it be okay?"
Daimon says "If I die because of it, no great loss in the big picture. Not to Heaven, and certainly
not to Hell."
Hitherby says "Would you feel better if it were Asmodeus who was helping Redemption
candidates, and he were simply throwing off suspicion by attributing the evidence to cold-hearted,
determined, Princely Kobal?"
Daimon says "It's not okay because... it's treason. Because we believe in him."
Sephar thinks quietly.
Sarah says quietly, "So it's not okay for him to give you a better reason to believe in him?"
Daimon says "I don't think anyone is helping Renegades. It's a Balseraph spin job, and I'm just a
coincidence."
Sephar says "So, in some sense, he's Betraying you to Heaven?"
Sephar says "If it's true."
Daimon says "Sarah, people don't believe in their Princes if they are helping people to become
something else. And yes, he's betraying us to Heaven."
Daimon says "But it's... not... TRUE. It's all just LIES."
Sephar says "What if it weren't a betrayal?"
Daimon says "How can it not be a betrayal?"
Sephar says "Rather, a type of faith in you that you don't even understand, yet?"
Sarah subsides to silence.
Sephar says "i.e. what if Heaven allows you to be more you than Hell ever could, even with a cool
Boss like yours?"
Daimon says "I've said it before, I'll say it again. I'm just a servitor. I simply serve to the best of
my ability."
Hitherby says, in a tone of soft frustration, "Daimon, don't you understand? Angels are fallible,
but Heaven is *unmitigatedly* good. Look at Yves. The most respected soul in Heaven, with the
exception of the Great One, and how does he see the world? He sees the brightest, best, most
incredible, wonderful possibilities in every single living and unliving thing."
Daimon says "No. I guess I don't understand. I'm simply stupid and slow."
Hitherby says "This isn't a case of someone betraying Saxons to the Normans, if it were true."
Daimon says "I simply can't believe it's true, is all."
Hitherby says "The best thing that could ever happen to you is to be Redeemed. Just as the worst
thing that could happen to *me* is to Fall. It's symmetric. Unless you suggest that I would be
happier and better as a Shedite?"
Sarah flinches.
Daimon says "Hardly."
Hitherby adds, softer, "I am not personally involved, there; I simply, well, find Shedim particularly
disgusting, and as a Kyriotate, etcetera."
Daimon says "You would no longer be Hitherby if you Fell."
Hitherby says "That's not precisely true."
Daimon says "It's not technically true, but you wouldn't be who you are right now."
Hitherby says "I would be Hitherby. But all that I value in myself would be gone. All that I loathe
in others would be a part of me. And I, literally and figuratively, would be in Hell."
Daimon falls silent.
Hitherby says "If you Redeemed, you would keep everything you value in yourself. Even the flaws
-- because if you value a flaw, it's really more of a quirk. And all the things that you see in Liz,
or Sarah, or Sephar, that you value -- you could *reach* those. You could achieve those things.
*You* could."
Daimon says "I just don't know."
Hitherby says, softly, "I understand. You have no faith."
Daimon says "None. Whatsoever. It's been too much for too long. I'm sorry."
Hitherby says "You must jump, because you do not have the wings to fly."
Daimon says "I do my best. And sometimes my best isn't very good."
Hitherby says "You must trust that you will land on the other side. Or that your wings will appear
midway. Or that you will be caught and carried across the chasm."
Hitherby says "And you must do this not because I say so, and not because you believe it is true,
but because to do otherwise is choosing to be a creature of Hell."
Hitherby says "And I do not mean the place."
Sarah shifts her shoulders, silently.
Hitherby says "I mean the condition."
Daimon says "I live there, you know. Hell. In that internal sense."
Hitherby says, quietly, "You don't get to be sure, first."
Hitherby hums atonally, "That is the tragedy. And it is the thing that makes Redemption
meaningful."
Hitherby says "I am sorry. I have drifted off the topic. It is a hazard of my nature."
Hitherby falls silent and wanders about on Terry's food.
Daimon leans back in his chair and sighs. "I believe that if I decide to Redeem and do what people
want me to do I will no longer be in a position to do what I need to do. What needs to be done.
I will no longer be able to at least help what has gone drastically wrong. And to _me_, it feels like
I'm the one doing the betraying."
Daimon says "For a long time I didn't really have a _point_ to exist. Then one day I did. And that
point is more important then you can believe."
Sarah says quietly, "I can believe it."
Hitherby says, gently, "Then do not Redeem yet. The Archangelic alignment is not the important
part, after all. But make the decision. And understand what you are deciding. And believe what
you must believe, to be true to yourself -- that you are not meant to serve corruption, pain, and
decay. That if Kobal has also realized this, he is a brighter soul than you had thought, and not a
lesser."
Daimon says "Hitherby, I feel like I'm betraying my friends and family."
Sephar says "Is the feeling true?"
Daimon says "I'm a creature of duty. I have a difficult time walking away from them. Maybe I
hope that I can help them out at the the sacrifice of myself. Or that maybe mutually clutching
together in the dark is beneficial somehow."
Sephar says "That doesn't seem, particularly, like a betrayal."
Sephar says "You seem to be doing what you can to help them, not destroy them."
Daimon says "No, but leaving them and my duty to do whatever for myself certainly feels like it."
Sephar says "Ah."
Hitherby says, calmly, flatly, "No, Daimon. It cannot be betrayal. If a soul cannot climb towards
brightness, then there is no hope for anyone in Hell."
Sarah stays completely silent, looking toward the door.
Daimon says "I cannot leave my friends and family. It's who I am."
Sephar chuckles softly.
Hitherby says, softly, "A rhetorical question, if I may?"
Daimon says "Sure."
Hitherby says, "Are you leaving Liz, then, by choosing Hell?"
Daimon blinks. "I can't leave Liz either."
Sephar says "Or am I a friend? I certainly consider you one."
Sephar says "One of my friends, that is... and it would be wrong to leave you, too. So, yeah. I
think I get some of what you're saying."
Daimon says "I'm caught somewhere in between, is all."
Hitherby says "Then, Daimon, your choice of Hell or Heaven is and must be independent of who
your friends are. If you must serve your friends' masters, you are doomed."
Sephar munches cheese and pasta quietly.
Hitherby says "Unless you would like to train for Kyriotatehood, and learn to divide yourself
evenly."
Daimon says "I can't leave anyone. I can't give up duty to people I consider friends and family.
I'm trapped."
Sephar grins at Hitherby.
Sarah says, doorward, "Unless you uncover a way to bring them with you."
Hitherby says, "You are not trapped. You are only afraid."
Sephar nods at what Sarah says.
Daimon says "I dunno. I just don't know. I hate all this. I wish I was just human. No one would
make me choose like this."
Sarah says "Humans spend their entire lives choosing, Daimon."
Sarah says "We at least have only rare instances."
The front door to the restaurant opens, and Pat walks in, looking slightly more rumpled and
decidedly more neutral than normal.
Hitherby says, softly, "Daimon." Then she falls silent and wing-mutters to herself quietly.
Hitherby sighs with a dozen descending beats.
Sarah does not /quite/ look relieved. She rises and draws out another chair at the table.
Hitherby says "Hi, Pat!"
<
<
Sephar squeaks, "Hi, Pat.
Pat mumbles a greeting, slouching into a chair.
Sarah slides her barely-touched plate in front of Pat, and sits again.
Hitherby says, cheerfully, to Pat, "You can try some of this, too. It's got crumbly white stuff."
Then she crawls around on Terry's plate, nibbling, some more."
Pat comments, blandly, "That would be cheese, Hitherby."
Hitherby hums, cheerfully, "Or snow."
Pat says "Mm."
Sephar nibbles pasta and cheese and looks at Pat.
Hitherby considers. "It could also be creek."
Sarah says "Snow tends to be somewhat colder."
Hitherby flutters her wings. "This would be special heated snow. A delicacy."
Hitherby says, "Very rare."
Pat reaches for a glass of water, lifts it pointedly, then sets it down.
Hitherby explains to Pat, "It doesn't turn into water if you dehydrate it first to get the moisture
out."
Sephar washes quietly.
Pat says "I see."
Sarah blinks toward Hitherby.
Sarah closes her eyes. Takes off her glasses. Rubs her eyes with her fingertips. Replaces the
glasses.
Hitherby says, innocently, "Am I wrong?"
Hitherby adds, "Pat, you seem somewhat disheveled."
Sephar says "Are you okay?"
Pat says "I'm adjusting. Patrick needed to deal with something urgent."
Pat says "It seems I missed the festivities. My apologies."
Sarah says "No, no. Please, don't apologize."
Pat lifts an eyebrow.
Sarah says "It leaves one of us not exposed to, ah. The. Entity from the Media."
Sephar grins.
Hitherby says "And we are still festive."
Sephar parties with a noodle.
<
Pat looks at Sarah for a moment. "Exposed? I'm unsure of the implications there."
<
<
<
<
Sarah says simply, "I want to wash out the inside of my skull."
Sephar says "He was kinda strange in some ways, but seems like he's willing to be helpful."
Sephar says "Though pushy, too."
Pat nods to Sarah, satisfied with something, and looks at Sephar. "Pushy?"
Sephar looks at Liz as she comes back from the bathroom, "Tell Pat about Terry?"
Hitherby says, "He attempted to resonate me. But he didn't do a very good job."
Pat pushes food around on the plate in front of him. "Of course not. You've a sturdy mind."
Hitherby says "Well, I was more thinking that he was incompetent."
Hitherby says "But that'll work!"
Liz sighs. "I cannot stay long, but. He's extremely ingratiating, in slimy sort of way."
Liz says "I don't think he meant us harm, but he used his resonance on just about everyone
present, reflexively."
Pat says "To what end?"
Liz says "To get the Story, I think."
Liz says "By any means necessary."
Hitherby freezes on the pasta.
Liz says "I think he's probably the perfect person to dig into the Game's business. Assuming he
survives, he probably won't stop at much unless ordered not to."
Sarah glances down to Hitherby.
Hitherby says, faintly, "We are certain that we are not the story, correct?"
Liz says "But I don't think I'll be much use around him unless I suddenly sprout about six more
celestial forces, all of them related to 'Will'."
Sephar peers up at Liz.
Hitherby explains to Liz, "Really, all you need is confidence in yourself."
Sephar says "Or I'll offer to bite you if you start obeying what he says or something."
Sarah says "I believe that we qualify as part of the story by now."
Liz says "Thanks, I appreciate it, Sephar."
Sephar nods at Liz.
Liz says "In any case, he's the type of guy who, if he asks you a question, you just so want to
answer."
Sarah shudders.
Liz says "Less scary up front than Focalor, but..."
Pat frowns.
Sephar says "... still against your will."
Sephar says "That's what I meant by 'pushy'."
Liz nods.
Liz says "Exactly."
Hitherby says "Daimon, can you estimate the likelihood of, er, a story about a brave group of
angels and a demon who are working together to try and stop the Game's plans for Kobal?"
Daimon says "Extremely likely."
Hitherby says "Because -- er, I think that would be an extremely valuable story, from the Game's
point of view."
Sarah says "Approximately the likelihood of our mention in that warrant, unfortunately."
Daimon says "But, it's just human interest."
Liz says "That'd be the other problem. I don't think Terry believes in Secrets."
Liz says "Well, at least once he gets his hands on them."
Daimon says "It's not that. It's that we're interesting, but not THAT interesting."
Pat says "Yet."
Daimon says "Small time compared to embarassing the Game."
Hitherby says "Daimon, angels involved in helping Kobal might be just the nail his coffin needs
right now. If the word got out all over Hell. I mean, who cares if we're just average angels? We're
*representatives of Heaven*."
Hitherby says "Do you see my drift?"
Daimon says "Can I get a drink or something? Because every time I turn around I've fucked up
and now I want to be fucked up and oblivious."
Hitherby says, thoughtfully, "I have left my still in my other pair of pants."
Hitherby says "But perhaps you could obtain a drink from the restaurant staff."
You paged Daimon with 'You do know that Terry does _not_ like the Game.'.
Hitherby skims off of the plate and ducks back under the table.
Pat says "I think a drink is an exceptionally good idea."
You paged Daimon with 'Terry is not going to spill you lot to the Game if there is a better story
otherwise.'.
Daimon pages: And that any way to embarass them is far more interesting then.. us.
You paged Daimon with 'And Terry can see the writing on the wall for Nybbas if Asmodeus takes
Kobal down.'.
Long distance to Daimon: Demiurge nods. Far more interesting than you. And Terry knows all
about precedent.
Sarah says "I'll buy the both of you one. And whoever else," she glances toward Liz, "wishes to
join."
Daimon says "All I know is how Media works. And media is in a very bad way if the Boss goes
down, do you see what I mean? He won't spill us to get the Game. If the Game wins, Terry will
_die_."
Daimon says "Nybbas will die. I like the Media people, those I know. I don't want to see them die.
That's reality folks. We're small time. The Media will not jeopardize itself for one small special
interest story."
Liz nods.
Hitherby hums. "Even should Nybbas have entered into a secret Belethesque alliance with the
Game?"
Pat says "Integrity in the name of survival."
Daimon says "I thought Nybbas is supporting the Boss. That's how Terry got the OK to come out
here."
Liz says "If the email message Sephar got off the Game computer is right, Media's decided to
jump with Dark Humor."
Hitherby says "Terry said that Nybbas was 'avoiding the issue.'"
Liz says "Like I said, I think we're working in parallel with Terry right now."
Sarah says, strained, "I presume that concentrated censorship and controls would not be in the
best interest of that Prince."
Daimon says "Nybbas may personally be avoiding the issue. His servants are another story."
Liz says "Ditto Lust. I'm fairly certain the Seneschal of the destroyed tether is with the Lusties."
Liz says "And, like I said, Daimon, his vessel's intact."
Hitherby hums a gentle tone. "It was a suspicion only; I am pleased if it is not valid."
Daimon says "If you want to second guess Hell, you have to play the Hell game. The Princes can
be whoever they want to be in public, but the servitors are another story. And that's who plays."
Sarah says "Who wants what to drink?"
Daimon says "Whiskey."
Liz sighs. "I cannot stay."
Pat nods, echoing Daimon.
Liz says "I have, as it were, more to do."
Liz sets down photographs. "Here. These are prints of the flight I took this morning, all over
Bellman's.
Liz says "We have confirmation it's a tether."
Liz pulls out a photograph marked with a pen. "It should be here, roughly."
Liz says "The actual tether, I mean."
Sarah takes a breath; nods to Liz. "Thank you. Please, take care." And rises, to confer with
waitstaff, thence to take her own turn disappearing into the ladies' room.
Liz points to the markings Azalea made earlier, which show stuff leading to underground
passages. "That's all the info."
Liz says "I might get more later."
Daimon says "I don't think we can take care of this. Who has big friends?"
Liz says "Marc made it very clear I was to call in the Auditors if circumstances warranted."
Liz says "And Aron has instructions from his organization to investigate Nightmare activities."
Liz says "I think I'll start the wheels rolling thataway."
Pat says "As soon as word descends from Jordan, I will be informed."
Liz nods.
Liz says "Between Trade, Dream, and Judgement, I would imagine we can do something about
the situation."
Sephar says "Yes."
Liz says "Daimon, I'll get more information on the Lusties."
Daimon says "OKay."
Liz says "I think I can find out where they are, or give you enough info to track down where they
are."
Daimon says "Cool."
Liz says "And I think that it would be a very good idea to empty Focals Investments of any
remaining staff."
Liz says "Particularly the Lilim."
Sephar says "By calling in Auditors?"
Liz says "That's part of it."
Sephar nods quietly.
Liz says "I think we should do the trick with the morphine on her."
>From afar, Sarah grins. And Sarah goes off to get whiskey for the men, and be sick, herself. :)
Liz says "And interrogation in a Tether. Possibly by Jordan."
Hitherby hesitates. "Liz, I would like to accompany you. If possible. I am -- under instructions
to protect you all."
Liz nods at Hitherby. "Of course. Sephar's been hanging with me, but I would appreciate the
presence of your strong Kyriotate mind."
Long distance to Sarah: Demiurge hugs. :) Poor Sarah.
Liz says "Last thing. Pat knows this, some of you don't."
Liz says "Nightmare has apparently assigned agents to keep an eye on this. I don't think they
know that we know."
Sephar says "Daimon, is it okay if my pigeon hangs with you some more? I think I'll keep my
mouse with Liz, easier to hide in the places she's going."
Liz says "Watch your backs. We're probably being followed."
Pat looks at Liz for a moment, then exhales softly when she speaks.
Daimon says "That's fine, Sephar."
You paged Sarah with 'Whiskey is obtainable.'.
Sarah pages: Whiskey is probably sent directly to the table then. :)
Hitherby says, cheerfully, "My swarm here is enough to have an eye on everyone."
Sephar says "Thanks."
Liz says "You might not want to purposefully avoid a tail, but just keep in mind that it could
happen. Pat, Sarah, Daimon and I are the logical targets. There may be more."
Hitherby says "-- I would like to make the same request to the rest of you as I made to Liz. I will
be quiet and good, I promise, if necessary."
Sarah pages: Sarah is hiding for a bit while she (a) is sick and (b) tries to calm down. That
discussion spawned not-good thoughts. :)
Liz says "And now, I have to zoom."
Liz pulls out a $20, puts it on the table, for her share of the bill.
Sephar says "Sure, Hitherby."
Hitherby floats a wasp over to Liz's shoulder.
Sepharmouse hops into Liz's pocket.
Daimon gives Liz sort of a hopeful vague grin.
A waiter brings whiskey to the table.
Liz leans over and kisses Daimon for a nice, long time.
Daimon responds well.
Liz mmms.
Daimon puts some heart and soul into it.
Liz says "Take care of yourself, okay? When I find out where your Seneschal is, we'll go have a
chat with him."
Daimon says "Okay. You to. No getting hurt, you hear me?"
Sepharpigeon just circles outside, will join Daimon whenever he comes out a door.
Liz grins. "You know me, Liz the Untouchable. Well, for most folks, anyways."
Liz says "Pat, this copy of the stuff is all yours. I can have more prints done up as necessary.
Make sure it gets to the right people?"
Pat looks down at the photographs. "The duplicates of the previous packet are in my office."
Hitherby says, "Daimon?" softly. "I know you may find me harsh, but my concern for your safety
is genuine. May I keep watch, as Sephar does?"
Daimon says "Sure."
Liz says "These are new. Have a look."
Pat nods, gathering up the photographs and leafing through them.
Liz shows off her photographs: gorgeous, high resolution shots in a grid pattern of the whole
Bellmans campus, detailed enough to pick out makes and models of cars, if not the license plates.
Sephar peers out of Liz's pocket to see the photo's.
Pat says "Well done."
Liz says "I mounted a WWII recon camera rig in Amelia, and then took shots from 15,000 feet
or so with high speed film."
Pat says "Ah."
Liz says "So, something for the intelligence folks to play with."
Hitherby circles around the photos, an unidentified and leggy bug returning to Daimon's shoulder.
Daimon says "Liz, you're just amazing."
Liz shows the drawn on frame to Pat. "Here's the tether area, and closest entrance. I'd think we'd
want to take that part first, and work our way out, in a best case scenario, and if we had enough
force to hold it.
Liz smiles brightly at Daimon. "Hey, I had a few extra hours..."
Daimon grins. "Later."
Pat says "We do not have enough force to take it, let alone hold it. That should best wait until
assistance is present."
Daimon says "I have to be good for _something_..."
Liz nods. "I'll work on getting the Audit Squad in house. I think they have links into the IRS or
something."
Liz says "Bye!"
Liz zips out the door.
Daimon says "Heh. That explains that tax audit."
Pat muses over photographs and whiskey.
Daimon holds his glass up. "Well, it's good to know that Every Day is Necro Bestial Butt-Sex
Day." Then he drinks his drink.
Pat eyes Daimon.
Daimon says "It's true."
Pat says "Is it?"
Daimon says "_I_ certainly feel like I've been fucked up the ass by a dead horse. You?"
Pat says "I've no basis for comparison, I'm afraid."
Daimon says, airly, "It's an ancient Comedic saying."
Daimon says "Coined by one much wiser then I."
Pat says "Ah."
Hitherby wing-flutter-sighs.
Daimon says "And it's only noon yet. It's got to get better."
Sarah returns to the table, somewhat paler; takes up the cup of jasmine tea delivered along with
the whiskey, and sips.
Daimon says "Something wrong Sarah?"
Sarah replies, "Nothing new, at least."
Daimon says "Are you okay?"
Sarah manages a smile. "In and of myself, yes."
Daimon says "Is someone else not okay?"
Sarah says "Yes, but I believe we've all been aware of that."
Daimon says "Oh. Well, I've told you before not to worry about me."
Sarah asks quietly, "Daimon?"
Daimon says "Yeah?"
Sarah says "If I ever enter a state in which I cease to worry about you, barring your actually not
having any problems, it is my dearest hope that someone will kill me shortly thereafter."
Pat sips his drink.
Daimon says "Sarah, that's not going to happen."
Sarah smiles toward Pat.
Pat returns the smile, faint.
Daimon sighs, and shakes his head. Angels.
Sarah says "I rather hope not."
Daimon says "It's _not_ going to happen. Okay? So don't worry about it."
Sarah says "In which case, I'm afraid I'm going to have to avoid listening to that particular
request. And continue to worry about you."
Hitherby says, very faintly, "Daimon, you have the right to self-pity. But we can't help with it.
There's nothing we can do that we're not already doing. Don't stop if you need to vent, but maybe
you need to think hopeful thoughts even more. I don't know."
Daimon says "So listen to me bitch and moan and do what is best for you. But believe me when
I tell you I will _not_ let you get mange. Okay? Do you understand me? I won't let it happen. I've
been there. You're not going."
Daimon says "Man, dammit, I can't even say the right things."
Sarah lays her hand on Daimon's shoulder, gently. "Then believe me, in turn, that that - which will
not happen - is the only condition under which I *could* cease to be concerned for you. All
right?"
Daimon says "I'm just not used to it."
Sarah says "I know."
"Transitions," Pat says, reaching into his coat, "are never simple."
Daimon says "I'll get used to it in time."
Sarah answers gently, "I dearly hope so."
Pat drinks whiskey.
Hitherby says "Daimon, can I ask you something?"
Daimon says "Sure."
Hitherby says "What do you think Bright Lilim are like? What do you think it's like to be one?"
Daimon thinks, and furrows his brow. He thinks, and thinks, and thinks. Finally, he says, "I have
no idea."
Daimon ponders this.
Hitherby buzzes softly. "Darn."
Daimon says "It's like asking what I think it's like to be a tree."
Hitherby reflects on this. "Not really," she says, as if it were an admission. "There's a fundamental
common ground in sentience, and you're already partly there. But I'll accept that you can't answer
it."
Daimon thinks. "I don't have any similar experience to compare it to."
Daimon continues to ponder. "If I was, say, an Impudite, I could find a Mercurian and ask, 'What
is it like'. There's an obvious physical change that happens, and an obvious difference. But me,
there's no obvious change, and there's no one to ask. There's no experience to compare. Maybe
it's absolutely no different then right now."
Hitherby walks in Kyriotatish patterns on Terry's pasta. "I see your point. Hm. Try a simpler
version then. Can you imagine what it would feel like to be still a decent person, still a loyal
person, still in love with Liz, still unwilling to kill, still a long distance from your Sisters in Hell
with their collections and their typical if not all-pervasive rapacity -- except that it's okay? That
it feels right, and safe, and good, instead of concerning?"
Hitherby adds, "There are people you could ask, of course; they're just rare, and probably busy.
But that's not really the issue."
Pat lights a cigarette, and offers one to Daimon.
Daimon takes the smoke from Pat. "Maybe the problem is that I can't imagine what it feels like
to be safe and right and warm and fuzzy instead of concerning."
Hitherby rotates a few pairs of eyes towards Pat, and says softly, "Am I pushing too hard, Pat?"
Pat says "I don't believe so."
Hitherby hums cheerily for half a second. "Okay."
Sarah suggests, "Liz, Daimon."
Hitherby rotates a few bugs to face Daimon for a moment before going back to tracings.
Daimon chews his bottom lip thoughtfully.
Daimon says "So anyway."
Sarah smiles, if briefly.
Hitherby says, "Of course, there are always concerns -- there's concern for other people, always,
and your job, and the Grand Plan, and whether you *are* being decent and loyal and all that. For
that last, you turn to others, but a small amount of concern there is healthy for feedback reasons.
But one nice part of serving Heaven is knowing that it's okay to be good. It's okay to be selfless,
because you know you're making sacrifices for the right things." She wiggles her legs enough for
it to be visible. "I'm sort of thinking aloud here. I'm rather impervious, generally, so I don't have
the best perspective on the things that upset you. On some of them, yes, on most, no."
Daimon shrugs. "I don't think you have to worry about things that upset me, actually."
Sarah says "I do, Daimon."
Daimon says "Well, not just talking about things. I mean, I've already seen my death warrant, I'm
not going back home. We might as well talk about it."
Sarah blinks, once. Then leans and, perfectly calmly, kisses Daimon on the mouth.
Hitherby makes a bell tone with beating wings, soft and fading. "I have to, because I do. If I
encounter a reason not to worry, then perhaps I will no longer have to." A chuckling,
many-layered sound. "But --"
Daimon is more then a little surprised. He responds physically.
Daimon says "Um."
Pat knocks ash from his cigarette.
Hitherby says, abstractedly, "It will be difficult to get into Hell to rescue Kobal without you; still
-- I suppose there are ways."
Sarah withdraws a little; blinks once at Daimon, and looks slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry. That
was a mistake?"
Daimon waves a hand. "This is the crux of the problem. I refuse to walk away and do what is best
'for me', because that seems awful, well, selfish of me. You know, leave all my friends and family
to the mercy of the Game just because. If I leave, then it's all over. My involvement neds. And I
doubt I'm anywhere near ready to, even if I do consider it. I'm not just going to turn my back on
my duty just because it seems like a good idea at the time." He looks at Sarah. "No Sarah, that
wasn't a mistake."
Hitherby says, softly, "I had rather see *anyone* an angel than a demon; my hearts rather ache
for those in Hell. Still, I am more concerned with the decision to Redeem than the actual event
-- the engagement rather than the wedding date, if that makes any sense."
Daimon says "Somewhat. What you would like is that I make a commitment to it, and then carry
it out when it's more convenient."
Hitherby chrisks. "Yes."
Hitherby says, "Once you have committed truly, you are an angel; all else is a justly-earned
reward, and it is a terrible price that you cannot immediately claim it, but I understand your
reasons for waiting."
Daimon says "I don't know if it's the right thing for me, though. I mean, I can be a pretty slimy
person when I put my mind to it. And what if I'm not worthy of this?"
Pat says "I think that matter has been settled."
Sarah says quietly, "There is no one who is not worthy in the end, Daimon."
Daimon says "Well, I'm worthy enough to _live_. I doubt I'm worthy to be accepted up, you
know, there. Not without some serious soul scrubbing."
Pat leans forward, crushing out his cigarette. "Redemption is not something bestowed as a gift,
Daimon. You've been given not only the chance, but encouragment from the Archangels
themselves."
Hitherby says, quietly, "Daimon, worthiness is not a state."
Daimon shrugs. "I dunno. I don't think I'm good enough to do it. And even if I do, I feel like it's
for purely selfish reasons. Escape. Making myself feel better. Is that the right thing to do? I'm not
sure."
Hitherby says "In each moment, you strive to do what you can, the best you can. That is
worthiness. Not God peering inside your soul and weighing it. Certainly not God weighing your
history or origins. Do you know what I mean?"
Hitherby forms a cloud. "I don't know. I am a Kyriotate of Animals; unsuited, perhaps, to this
kind of discussion. Still, --"
Daimon says "I think I'm mostly just confused."
Pat says "But you do not wish to be."
Daimon says "In the long term, no, not really. I don't like stumbling around without a purpose.
I did too much of that, and I don't want to do it again. Freedom is cool, until you do it for a
living."
Sarah says "If you could have any purpose in the world, Daimon, what would you choose?"
Pat says "Chains willingly accepted are not bonds."
Daimon says "I'm not so worried about the whole bonding thing, although it bothers me on certain
base levels. I don't know what I would want to do. We have a try before you buy policy, you
know."
Hitherby says, "You are right that Redemption is not supposed to be about escape, or feeling
better." She swirls about. "But the escape part, and the feeling better parts, are your /right./ God
makes nothing that does not have a Destiny. Animals have their suffering, and can earn the
Savannah; humans have their suffering, and can earn the Higher Heavens; demons have their
suffering, and their Destiny is to be an angel. And we -- we have our suffering, and our joys, and
they are bound together and in a kind of harmony."
Daimon says "So what IS Redemption about?"
Pat says "It depends on who you ask."
Daimon says "So I'm asking."
Sarah says quietly, "Love."
Pat says "Harmony."
Daimon says "I dunno. I _dunno_. I mean, I feel, Lilim don't belong up there. I don't know if I
belong up there."
Hitherby hums quietly. "The formal Redemption is the process in which your nature is cleansed
-- I do not say changed. Cleansed. And you are suddenly more /able/ to sacrifice yourself -- and
there is a part of you that is safe from all sacrifice, doubt, or circumstance. You see? This is why
no one has turned their back on you, for all that you still claim to be a selfish person."
Pat says "Everyone belongs up there."
Sarah says quietly, "Everything in existence has a home in Heaven, Daimon."
Hitherby gives a sudden giggle. "I see I have been the wordiest of the bunch. The Great One
would frown at me."
Pat says "On the contrary, Hitherby. I think Jordi would be proud to see his servants expound so
skillfully."
Hitherby says "Sarah's 'Love' is pretty darn close, for a single word, though."
Hitherby lands a bug on Pat's nose.
Pat looks crosseyed at the bug.
Hitherby giggles again, and then the bug rejoins the swarm.
Pat shakes his head. But he is smiling.
Sarah smiles at Pat.
Daimon taps his smoke on the ashtray. "I don't know. Somehow it has always struck me that
Lilim simply don't belong up in Heaven. We're born in Hell and cast into the darkness for a reason,
although I'm not entirely sure what it is. There has to be something we do wrong, or our Mother
has done wrong - I mean fundamentally wrong - which answers why we are the way we are. I
would assume that we are punished because Lilith tried be greater then God's creation, emination
really, and demanded equality with God himself. So to punish her, WE in turn are punished, and
we pay for her initial and continuing sins. That was my theory."
Hitherby lands on Terry's pasta again.
Pat says "If that's the case, Daimon, you've been punished enough."
Daimon says "My theory, of course, could be fundamentally wrong, but this is two and a half
centuries of observation."
Daimon furrows his brow. "Is there ever an 'enough'?"
Pat looks at Daimon, eyes serious. "There is /always/ an enough."
Daimon says "If it's God's punishment, and she keeps creating us, and we keep getting screwed,
I don't know if there is a basic enough. I'm just theorizing, I certainly don't have all the answers.
Hell, I don't even know all the questions."
Sarah says quietly, "It is not God's punishment, Daimon."
Hitherby says, quietly, "We are God's hands. It is not our fault that we are not strong enough to
abolish a place built by Fallen members of our own kind. But neither is it yours."
Daimon says "We're not Fallen, first of all. None of us, not a one, has ever been given a choice
at birth between heaven and hell. Second, we're supposedly 'half-human', but we don't even get
anything that resembles a human shot at things. So I dunno, you know? I assume it's punishment
for Lilith's personal continuing sins."
Hitherby says, quietly, "People generally don't get that choice at birth."
Pat says "The choice comes later."
Hitherby says, "It comes somewhere down the line."
Daimon says "So why are there so very few Lilim who go Bright?"
Sarah says quietly, "You've met more Lilim than any of us, Daimon. How many want to?"
Hitherby says, "Does Lilith try to make Lilim that will want to leave Hell? Will strive to?"
Daimon shrugs. "I have never met a single Sister who was not utterly repulsed by the concept of
'going Bright'. None want to. I mean, they're having... so... much.... Fun. All the time. Constantly.
24 hours a day. Fun all the goddamn time."
Hitherby says "Free Will means that there is no soul in the universe who cannot decide on Heaven,
and no soul who cannot decide on Hell. But Archangels generally try to make angels who will stay
in Heaven, and Demon Princes demons who will stay in Hell. I mean, it just makes sense, right?"
Pat says "I have words on this."
Hitherby says "I will fall silent for a moment, then."
Hitherby sits still and munches pasta.
Daimon ponders Lilim. "Certainly, but I think it's worse then that. It's a concept of losing one's
Freedom. I'm not talking Liberty the American Way. I'm talking Freedom from _everything_ -
love, responsibility, dedication, duty, the whole works. They don 't ever want to do that. They just
want their loot and their will to do whatever they want."
Daimon waves a hand. "Do what thou wilt within the whole of the Law."
Sarah says "And that is why they remain in Hell, and alone."
Sarah turns to Pat.
Daimon says "I think I gave up my Freedom voluntarily a long time ago for a Place."
Pat lights a fresh cigarette. "The Archangels have a vested interest in keeping angels in Heaven.
However. The vast majority would choose to remain in Heaven without any intervention. Even
the dissonant and discordant, given the choice, wish to remain in the light of God. The choice to
Fall, and the choice to remain in Hell, is spawned by misunderstanding and confusion, not nature."
Pat says "I do not believe in inherent damnation."
Daimon says "I hate to say it, but I have no intimate views on Falling itself. You need to ask
Terry about that. When he remembers, he has some very choice words about life in Heaven and
why it is Good to Leave It. Personally, I cannot see why anyone would CHOOSE damnation. It's
empty and lonely and yes, I believe Hell is mostly internal and psychological. But you know, who
knows."
Pat blinks. "Terry Fell?"
Daimon says "Uh, yeah. A long time ago. A REALLY long time ago."
Pat says "Oh."
Daimon says "It's really difficult to get details, though. Balseraphim have a bad habit of doing
spring cleaning on their brains and getting rid of things that bother them."
Pat says "Do you see why one could choose Redemption, though?"
Daimon says "I do, and I don't. I can see why it's good for some people and why it isn't for others
and suchlike. Intellectually."
Pat says "And, questions of worthiness aside, how do you feel about yourself?"
Daimon says "I dunno. I don't know if I have those qualities. And I don't want to just pick up and
leave in a time when things are really bad and I'm Needed somewhere."
Pat says "It was a purely intellectual question, Daimon. Irrelevant to the current situation."
Daimon says "Personally? Honestly? I'm never too keen on myself."
Pat says "Hm?"
Daimon says "Do I like myself? Is that what you're asking?"
Hitherby hums, quietly, "Daimon, you do understand that you are hanging out with a group of
angels who are interested in helping a demon -- you -- and, heck, probably Kobal himself? I find
it hard to imagine, with these circumstances so -- immanent around me -- that a Redeemed demon
loses any genuine loyalties that were in their heart."
Pat says "Do you want to take the place reserved for you in Heaven?"
Daimon says "I don't know. This all seems so fast."
Pat nods. "Alright. I won't press."
>From afar, Pat will resonate, though. :)
Hitherby says, wisely, "This is because the angel you chose to fall in love with is an Ofanite."
<
Pat pages: Woo! Emotional state and strongest emotion.
Daimon grins a little bit. "I had noticed."
Daimon paged Pat with 'Strongest emotion = confused, inner turmoil. Emotional state = nervous,
a little embarrassed.'.
Hitherby says "The general rule is, for a slow and careful Redemption, fall for a Cherub; for the
highest-probability Redemption, fall for an Elohite; and if you must be Redeemed in quantity, go
for a Kyriotate."
>From afar, Pat nods.
Pat says "Redeemed in quantity?"
Daimon laughs. "I wanna be redeemed in quantity. That sounds too cool to pass up."
Hitherby innocently nibbles on a big piece of grated cheese.
Pat chuckles.
Daimon says "What if you just fall for a bunch of people at once?"
<
Pat says "Then you get this conversation."
<
Daimon says "Ah.... ha. Apparently."
Sarah says "I'd imagine you'd want to fall for Creation, then."
Hitherbys roll over on their backs for a moment.
Daimon says "If you rub the Kyriotate's full tummy, do you get luck in quantity? I wonder."
Pat says "Each and every tummy? That may be difficult."
Daimon says "It requires patience on both the luck giver and the luck receiver."
Pat says "Clearly."
Hitherbys roll back onto their legs and peer warily at Daimon.
Daimon peers back at Hitherbys.
Daimon says "So why Creation?"
Sarah blushes slightly.
Pat says "I shouldn't contribute to this section of discussion."
Daimon says "No, go ahead. Have the 'who should Daimon go to' debate."
Pat shakes his head. "Eli is under investigation."
Daimon says "So I take it that's bad."
Pat says "It's neither bad nor good, until a verdict is reached."
Sarah says gently, "The relevant part is the reputation of those of Creation for applying their word
to creativity, ah, in, ah."
Pat says "Eli has been....absent...for some time now. It is a concern of Heaven that he may have
forgotten his purpose."
Hitherby buzzes, slightly off-tone because her wings are now pasta-oily, "Creationers have a
reputation for falling for many people, and for making up for it by falling for them for fairly short
times. This refers to infatuation, of course; their *love* is no more or less far-reaching than that
of other angels."
Daimon says "So I take it playing guitar for eternity is right out. Okay, next?"
Sarah says "Hardly that, Daimon."
Pat says "I expect your first experience in Heavenly service will be through Judgement, if your
Oath is accepted."
Hitherby hums, "Of course, if you went by the stereotypes, a suave, stylish Kyriotate of Animals
like myself would never be caught dead eating pasta."
Pat says "If you'd like, I can give you a description."
Daimon says "If it's accepted, something I wonder about."
Daimon peers at Hitherby, and laughs.
Sarah smiles at Hitherby.
Pat chuckles.
Daimon says "No Kyriotate of Animals would be caught dead eating pasta. It just isn't DONE."
Sarah says "It would be rather difficult to eat pasta if dead."
Daimon says "But not impossible."
Daimon says "So anyway, a Place. Go forth and give your recruiting speeches."
Hitherby hums, thoughtfully, "It would require substantial assistance."
Sarah says "You did mention guitar."
Daimon says "That's just something I do."
Pat nods. "We are Judgement, Daimon. We are the hands of equity and clarity in Heaven. The
misled and the dissonant are our concern, for fear that they have lost sight of their nature.
Injustice tears as a physical thing, for it is against Grace and contr ary to the Word of our
creator."
Daimon says "Hmmm."
Daimon says "If the geas is accepted - and I don't think it will be, for various reasons, I'll try to
live up to that ideal. But really, I have an awful lot to learn."
Pat says "In a very real sense, we are the antithesis of the Game. Asmodeus was one of our
number before the Fall."
Daimon says "Oh. Hmmm. Well, you know how I feel about the Game."
Pat nods.
Daimon says "None of it is real positive."
Pat says "I know. And I owe you a significant apology for it, as well."
Daimon waves a hand. "No biggee. You were boondoggled."
Pat nods.
Pat says "I will consider myself forgiven, then."
Daimon says "You betcha. You've more then made up for getting your head messed with.
Besides, I think there are things that end up out of your control. I was - and still am - some demon
who crawled out of the Pit."
Hitherby hums, quietly, "Those who wish to serve the Great One must be able to acknowledge
that the smallest life is as much a testament to God as the greatest; that instinct and necessity are
as important as reason and logic; that the great works of man are fundamentally missing the point;
that everyone who focuses on humanity in the War is also, essentially, missing the point. These
are all hard points to comprehend even for most angels; I do not think that you would enjoy his
Service. On the other hand -- he can teach you the tongues of beasts. The stories. Oh, Daimon,
the *stories* -- cultures a thousand times older than humanity's, lacking the technical knowledge
to build cities and rape the Earth, lacking, well, brains, but --" Hitherby shakes herself, all hosts
in the swarm, once.
Daimon grins at Hitherby. "The stories. You should know that certain Lilim have weaknesses for
stories."
Hitherby says "There are things in the world, secrets, powers, loves, worlds -- things that most
angels, most humans, most demons -- the *vast* majority -- will never see, know, experience,
live, or understand. That is what the Great One can give. But, as I have said, it requires first many
specialized ways of thinking, and, well, I can tell you stories now and again."
Hitherby crawls into a smile and two eyes on Terry's plate, facing Daimon.
Pat chuckles.
Daimon laughs. "I don't really think that I'm... suited... to working for the Great One, Hitherby,
as interesting as it sounds. But the stories, I'm always up for stories."
Sarah says "I'd like to hear as well. Given the project."
Daimon says "I can never fill my brain fast enough."
Sarah smiles. "We'll have to show you the Library."
Hitherby hums cheerfully. "I stuffed all my memories in a backup brain about a century ago. I've
never been able to find it again. Fortunately, it sends out requests for rescue together with bits of
recollection every few days."
Pat eyes Hitherby.
Daimon blinks, and laughs. "You're just deep, Hitherby."
Daimon says "Like a Kyriotate Buddha."
Hitherby buzzes cheerfully. "I'll give you two one story a night. It'll give you incentive not to
wander off somewhere without me. Deal?"
Daimon says "Do you want to make a deal with a Lilim?"
Sarah agrees, "Deal. From the Cherub, at least."
Hitherby crawls about in mysterious patterns. "Well, not a *formal* one."
Daimon holds up a hand. "It's an unofficial deal, but I'm very big on holding up my side of the
bargin. I will not wander off without you, and you will tell me stories."
Hitherby buzzes. "Since it's unofficial, and Liz isn't here, I'll leave out the clauses about how we
get out of this when it becomes necessary, and just say, 'Sure.'"
Daimon says "Cool beans."
Daimon looks mildly pleased.
Sarah looks decidedly pleased, herself.
Daimon says "I'm wondering, if my geas gets accepted by Judgment, what duties besides sharing
information I'll be told to carry out."
Pat says "You'll be told."
Pat says "All of our instructions are handed down directly from the Most Just."
Daimon says "Oh. It's sort of like sitting around waiting for a divine exegesis from a Logos."
Pat says "Well, yes. Except they occur about once a week."
Hitherby says, thoughtfully, "We can rule out Triad duty, right, Pat? Being able to *see*
someone's Need to be judged leniently instead of just knowing it's there would be prejudicial."
Hitherby says "I mean, obviously we can rule it out for right now, but you know what I mean.
Usually. Sometimes."
Pat says "Mm. Actually, no. But it's highly unlikely that Daimon will be assigned to the Inquisition
under the circumstances."
Daimon says "Something about being a demon, I think."
Daimon says "Although the _irony_... it is very Funny."
Pat nods.
Hitherby says "We let a few demons into the Inquisition, Azzie lets us assign punishment to Kobal
-- hey, it's fair all around!"
Pat chuckles.
Hitherby says, in a stern voice, "Prince Kobal, you have been assigned to 200 hours of community
service, cleaning up the road by Highway 66."
Sarah hides a smile.
Pat says "He could be assigned to a Disney screenwriter."
Hitherby's hum mimics a giggle. "He could be his own animated feature."
Pat says "Something lighthearted and inspiring."
Daimon says "I think he IS his own animated feature, actually. But inspiring? The horror! The
punishment!"
Pat smiles. "It's only fair."
Daimon says, in mock tones of authority, "We are going to reform you by teaching you to use
your creative impulses for the greater good. First, you must draw 3000 fuzzy bunnies. All of them
must be a) cute and b) cuddly. We will be inspecting all of them for flaws."
Hitherby ponders. "He could be the voice of St. Francis."
Pat smiles. "You're getting the hang of it, Daimon."
Daimon say "That's a horrible torture. An eternity of Fluffy Bunnies."
<
Pat says "Not an eternity. Just three thousand."
<
Daimon says "And after those three thousand, there will come... the adorable big eyed baby deer."
Sarah gives puzzled looks all 'round.
Pat says "Only if he has not repented."
Daimon says "I think Lucifer would repent after 3000 fluffy bunnies and a few hundred deer. I,
myself, would crack like an egg and end up weeping on the floor for my blankie."
Pat seems to ponder this.
Hitherby explains to Sarah, "Disney makes these wonderful -- *things* -- that move around on
a screen. Shem made me see one called 'Bambi.'"
Daimon says "There's only so much cute one can take, Pat."
Pat says "True. We'd have to watch closely to avoid going too far."
Daimon says to Hitherby, "I am quite fond of Bambi meets Godzilla."
Hitherby says "Is that the second story?"
Sarah says, slowly, "Ah."
Pat smiles at Sarah. "I'll find some. Some of them are quite good."
Daimon says "I saw it at a Kobalite creativity fest, a film festival called 'The Sick and Twisted
Animation festival'. Every year, we showcase the best of the comedic film shorts. That one is
shown. Mostly it's just Bambi going squish."
Pat says "If I remember correctly, Blandine has several hands in the studio."
Daimon says "Disney is only used as an instrument of torture."
Pat says "Disney /inspires/, Daimon."
Hitherby says, puzzledly, "Squish?"
Hitherby mimics Bambi's voice perfectly, insofar as her humming sounds like a voice at all.
Daimon says to Pat, "Oh. Well, oh. It does? I thought it only sold McDonald's Happy Meals."
Then he turns to Hitherby, "You know, Squish. Er, flat. I guess you gotta be there."
Hitherby hums. "In any case."
Sarah says gently, "If we're playing explain-the-Word, I believe it might be my turn?"
Pat nods. "It would."
Hitherby confides to Daimon, "She has a *keen* Word."
Pat says "Is this helping, Daimon?"
Daimon says "Well, I've scored some stories and some deepness, so I think I'm getting a win-win
here, yeah."
Pat smiles. "Good."
Sarah says "Destiny, then - is no less than it says. We open paths, set guideposts, to help others
find and work toward the brightest possibilities within them. We see the world as it *should* be,
as well as the world as it is, and we try to bring the second to meet the first. All the knowledge
of the world and of dreams alike lies within our Library,"
Daimon says "So what is the connection of Destiny and the Library?"
Sarah replies, "Some Archangels hold cathedrals, groves, spires - savannahs. Yves and those of
us who serve him dwell within his Library."
Daimon says "So it's just a place."
Sarah smiles a touch. "Have you ever noticed that there is something similar about every library
in existence, Daimon?"
Daimon says "Librarysmell. They all have that certain smell associated with thousands of books,
comfortably mouldering away in one place. That's what I usually notice. No matter where you go,
they all smell essentially the same."
<
Sarah says "Take it one step further, then."
Sarah says "The reason for that is that the same air flows through all of them. That there is one
place in which they all meet."
Daimon says "So what does the Library have to do with Destiny? Is it just inevitability
somehow?"
Sarah hesitates, looking somewhat helpless. "It is - that's what we are, Daimon. We know things,
we learn things, we strive to keep track of the world. Where else would our place in Heaven be
but among knowledge?"
Hitherby hums, softly, "I should not intrude ..."
Daimon says "I'm just confused, at how knowledge is directly linked with Destiny."
Sarah invites Hitherby, "Please, do intrude. You're much better at seeing other points of view than
I."
Daimon grins. "It's Hitherby's Sturdy Mind.
Hitherby whispers atonally, "It has seemed to me that concrete knowledge -- hard, fixed forms
like books -- is important to Destiny because it is a symbol that the Destinies Yves sees is also a
real and concrete knowledge. Not an abstraction, not a net of probabilities -- something that's
*there*. Recorded. Known. That can be told again tomorrow, or in a million years."
Pat says "Stories."
Daimon says "Oh. Wow. Cool."
Pat says "It's the time-binding function of the mind."
Sarah answers Pat, "Inspiration."
Daimon says "Well, I suppose that makes sense then."
Sarah says "It's... part of it. I don't know how to articulate the rest. It never occurred to me that
it could be anything other than clear."
Daimon shrugs. "This is all fairly alien to me, so I listen with interest. You just have to imagine
that I don't understand things that are implicit to you, because when I'm born, I'm born entirely
without any implicit knowledge except for some basic survival stuff, and I have to learn it all as
I go along."
Pat winces. "You have my sympathy."
Sarah smiles a little at Daimon. "I'll keep trying. I'm afraid I have a rather fixed viewpoint,
though."
Hitherby giggles softly. "We are in perhaps a better state -- but we have all been young."
Daimon says "I don't believe it's something that requires sympathy. Is a human biologist born with
implict knowledge of anatomy? Of course not. We are children of Lilith, and unfortunately that
means being born with no knowledge, no nothing. Me, I went to college, but that was 70 years
ago."
Daimon shrugs. "It's part of the reason we take contracts. We take a contract, learn some skills
for jobs, some attunements for jobs, some tricks for jobs, and move on."
Hitherby says "Leaving aside the nature of the contracts themselves, it seems a reasonable enough
system."
Daimon waves a hand. "An older Lilim is desireable because she has learned skills - desireably
skills - along the way, and it can be employed in specialties. A young Lilim must trade her time,
and her geasa, for learning new skills and trades. The more savvy the Lilim, the more they can
learn on the job. I have a specialty - I'm an entertainer. Well, a writer, mostly, who happens to do
his own stuff. It's good for Comedy and Comedy Media cross jobs. You can't breed that, I get it
from experience. This is why I'm so keen on stories - I HAVE to learn to stay alive. That's how
the system works."
Daimon says "It is not, as you might think, a bad system at all. It is the exact same system that the
Humans employ."
Sarah says softly, "So long as the system is fair."
Pat says "I've learned a great deal through time and trade, Daimon. But I can't imagine not having
the inherent knowledge I was created with."
Daimon says "I know nothing of Law. I also know nothing, implicitly, of Dark Comedy, but I
certainly have learned. I understand in my fabric of my being of how Geasa work, and how to read
Needs. But we are not born with specialties, or the knowledge of certai n Words. It is learned -
that's the nature of Freedom. Lilith is Free to teach us nothing at all, and allow us to fend for
ourselves."
Hitherby hums a descending series of tones, and then says, "I wonder what Lilith makes the Lilim
out of."
Daimon says "Sugar and spice and everything nice?"
Sarah shudders, quietly.
Daimon1 says "I assume Forces."
Hitherby hums, "I could taste you and determine this?"
Daimon holds out a hand, dutifully, to be tasted.
Hitherby flutters a young bee over and delicately nips a microscopic piece of flesh from Daimon's
hand, which, considering the size of her mouth, probably just tickles.
Daimon does not, in fact, flinch. He watches with interest at being tasted.
Hitherby reflects. "It is unlikely that you are made from the leaping mice of the deserts, yes?"
Hitherby flutters back to Terry's plate.
Daimon says "It is unlikely but I rule out no possibilities, no matter how remote."
Daimon says "So. Anyway."
Hitherby says, "It is just that -- when the Great One makes an angel, he chooses Forces that
resonate with his Word, that have a deep identification with Heaven's view of those who walk,
swim, run, bounce, scurry, dangle, squirt, stay stationary, or fly. It is possible that he may even
use a Force of his own -- although he does not address this question directly, so that there is no
unwarranted pride. --" She crawls into a Kyriotate blob on the plate. "Perhaps it is that the Forces
available in Hell are so tainted that she must wipe them clean before she can make a Lilim from
them."
Daimon says "Possibly. All I know is that Lilith provides no true servitors, no distinctions, no
special attunements, no special skills. We resonate with the Art of the Deal, but it is a mechanism
through which we learn our future trades. And to, of course, stock up on Geasa and make little
empires."
Pat says "Of debt."
Hitherby says, her tone of voice happy, "Perhaps that explains why Lilim do not change physically
to the extent that others do, when they go Bright. If they begin clean, then Brightness is -- almost
-- within design tolerances."
Sarah blinks, and gives Hitherby a quick glance, then Daimon, looking distinctly startled.
Pat says "You've been spending time with Sephar again, Hitherby."
Daimon says "Yes, the empires are of debt, Pat. And I assumed we didn't change because of our
human condition. I had never thought that we don't change because we're designed to be naturally
Bright, and learn to be Dark."
Pat says "Born without sin, into a world of damnation."
Daimon says "Born extremely selfish in a world of damnation."
Pat says "Exposed to selfishness from the start, Daimon."
Pat says "If it's all you know..."
Daimon says "Freedom has an extremely selfish side to it. In any case, if I ask any of the Sisters
about it, the normal response I receive is a blow off comment and more attention called to my
embarrassingly small amount of collected geasa hooks on individual s. No one asks, and in fact,
the resonance for Needs is a mechanism for greed and personal power. I don't think many
consider it a mechanism for duty and responsibility, because that is not the essence of Freedom.
We're to be free of all that, and make her people carry it out for us, through a few small favors."
Hitherby says, quietly, "A question, Daimon."
Daimon says "Shoot."
Hitherby says "Lilith is removing Lilim from the field of battle, yes?"
Daimon says "Correct. And only by doing what I did kept me from being dragged back with the
rest of them."
Hitherby nods. "As I understand it, Lilith's power base is not from *her* Servitors, but from her
ability to *provide* Servitors, yes?"
Daimon says "This is also correct, more or less. What she can do for them, in return for a small
favor."
Hitherby says "I am reaching matters far beyond my specialty here, but -- the value of a thing is
related in part to its scarcity, yes?"
Sarah says "In part, yes."
Daimon says "Lilim are, admittedly, extremely rare among the Bands."
Pat says "And thusly valued?"
Daimon says "We are treated well, normally. When we don't have death warrants on our heads."
Hitherby says "If these three points are roughly correct, Daimon, then I submit to you that Lilith
is -- being human and therefore not consummately demonic -- /herself/ acting unselfishly in
removing her Servitors from the field of battle. Having a number of them get taken out of the
way, without it being her fault, would raise the price -- on future Lilim as well as on the ones who
remain. I submit this as evidence that the Lilim are far from inherently damned. That there is some
brightness in the very * creator* of the Lilim, even if most of her Daughters are -- well -- shallow,
selfish flakes, you seem to describe them as.""
Daimon blinks. He ponders and digests this. And then says, "Deep."
Pat nods. "Indeed."
Daimon says "So you think Lilim learn to be damned?"
Pat says "By example, if nothing else."
Daimon says "So we get tossed out at an early age on the street, and then go hang out with Lust,
where its always so FUN.... what, did I miss Selfish 101? I must have been sick that week."
Pat says "That's hardly a bad thing."
Hitherby says "Free will, Daimon. You were generally or specifically strong enough not to follow
the herd -- or to recover from that later, if -- if.""
Daimon says "I must never have learned how to be a normal Lilim somewhere along the way. I
must have been too busy learning other stuff."
Sarah smiles at Daimon.
Daimon says loftily, "Unfortunately, I am imbued with a moderately sick sense of humor."
Sarah says "But only moderately."
Hitherby says "Temperance is a virtue."
Daimon say "But only moderately. There is something inherently funny in, say, a Game Balseraph
getting squashed by a two ton block of IRS forms, dropped from above."
Hitherby says "One of the Seven Deadly Virtues. Or something."
Pat smiles at Daimon. "I could see that."
Daimon says "See? So it's not without waste. Seriously though, I'm trying to figure out when it
was that I didn't bother with the network of Geasa and it turned into duty. Maybe it was when I
realized what fulfilling Needs did to people - sometimes good, some times harmful. Or there was
something essentially in someone Needing you to do something, and you did it, because it needed
to be done. Heh. I once heard someone refer to Lilim as the 'Elohim of Hell', but it was probably
another Sister who said that."
Hitherby hums, casually, "If a sick sense of humor were bad, I would not have the ability to
summon herds of venomous spiders."
Pat looks at Daimon for a moment, puzzled.
Daimon says "As long as you aren't summoning herds of Manatees, Hitherby, I think the sanity
of the world is still moderately safe."
Sarah says "Of course not, Daimon. We're not underwater."
Hitherby whispers atonally, "I would be interested to hear when that was, as well, Daimon. And
the circumstances surrounding it."
Daimon waves a hand. "And for that we are all thankful."
Daimon says "Or else, I suspect, we'd all be very soggy."
Hitherby muses, "And the pasta would not taste very good."
Daimon says "Mostly because it would be floating around on the currents."
Hitherby says "A white tide, I believe the phrase is?"
Daimon says "It would be a noodle tide."
Hitherby says "I see. Yes, that would be horrible."
Daimon says "And the sauce would be intolerably thin."
Pat says "Soggy bread, as well."
Daimon says "The garlic would be difficult to taste."
Pat nods. "Absolutely."
Hitherby says "The drinking glasses would be almost beside the point somehow."
Daimon says "Even the whiskey would be thin and watered down."
Pat says "Not to mention the cigarettes."
Daimon say "Difficult to smoke underwater. And they would come all apart. It would be, overall,
a terrible experience."
Pat says "I agree."
Daimon says reflectively, "But, there would be a herd of manatees."
Hitherby says "On the other hand, it would be refreshing."
Daimon says "We would all be very clean."
Hitherby says "Fish would accent the pasta well."
Daimon says "Although there would be the downside of the fish still living, and being a bit on the
raw side."
<
<
Hitherby turns a few sets of eyes towards Daimon.
Hitherby assures Daimon, "They're best that way."
Daimon says "Well, not for Lilim. Maybe for a herd of Hithermanitees."
Sarah suggests, "Sushi?"
Daimon says "Even Sushi is steamed."
Hitherby says "Who is Sushi?"
Daimon says "It's a Japanese method of preparing fish."
Pat says "An acquired taste."
Daimon busts out laughing.
Hitherby hums agreeably.
Daimon says "We're getting very strange."
Hitherby says, calmly, "I have always been strange."
Pat says "There's nothing wrong with appropriate levity."
Daimon says "We're simply approaching your duplicity, Hitherby."
Daimon says "Anywho, I don't remember who made the Elohim crack. Maybe Malik."
Pat says "Malik?"
Daimon says "My sister?"
Pat says "Ah."
Daimon says "I always sort of thought of her as my sister, small-s."
Daimon says "As well as my Sister, big-s."
Pat nods.
Hitherby says, thoughtfully, "That may have been the point at which you were no longer truly in
Hell."
Daimon say "Mmmm... that was quite a while ago, I think."
Hitherby dices a piece of penne industriously into two or three hundred smaller pieces. "But you
were reaching beyond aloneness and selfness." (A bug's legs, with Hitherby's strength, are
*extremely* good knives. :)
Daimon say "And since then, until pretty much yesterday, there was a lot of misery involved."
Pat says "And after yesterday?"
Hitherby says, tonelessly, "Oh."
Daimon says "I'm here, at Lunch, wondering if I'm going up or down."
Pat says "Do you have a preference?"
Daimon says "I don't _think_ I'm going back down, but I cannot see the future, either. I care
deeply for my friends and family, though. If I leave, I won't see them anymore, although they are
demons and I shouldn't worry about them. But I do, I can't change me overnight."
Pat nods.
Hitherby whispers softly, "You are permitted to worry about demons."
Sarah says softly, "Concern fo