The apartment is quiet. There are no lurking things under the bed.
Hitherby looks for Calabim before entering.
<
Demiurge says "No Calabim, Hitherby."
Hitherby nods. Stealthy buggers.
Pat locks the door, checking for answering machine messages, email, all the good stuff.
Daimon walks into Pat's apartment, and collapses on the couch.
There are no answering messages on the machine, and no email.
Daimon says "This has been, bar none, the longest day of my life."
Sarah, in the kitchen, makes coffee.
<
<
Pat hangs up coat and hat, drops his jacket on the office chair, and unfastens the gun harness. "It'll
be over in a few hours."
Daimon says "And then it'll be another one."
Pat says "Well, yes."
Pat sits behind his desk, turning to locate the secure phone.
Daimon says "I think I'm gonna protest days, and have them changed for variety."
Pat flips through his rolodex. "I've always been fond of the morning."
<
<
Daimon says "Not I."
Pat dials up Etecius' office. "Give it time. The sunrise is beautiful around here, looking out over
the ocean."
A secretary's voice answers. "Mr Vorson's office. Can I help you, sir?"
Daimon hmphs, and lays like a lump on the couch, with the TV controller in hand and Role in the
other one.
Pat says "Hello, is Steven still in?"
There is a pause, then the secretary says, "I'll just check, sir. Who is this, please?"
Pat watches the little blinkie light to make sure it stays out. "Patrick."
There are a couple of clicks, then Stephan's voice answers. "Steven here. What can I do for you,
Patrick?"
Daimon watches the news.
Pat says "I need to initiate an investigation upstairs."
Stephan says, quite calmly, "Okay. You'll have to provide the evidence, of course, as usual."
Pat says "Half of it is corporeal. The rest is testimony."
Stephan says, "I take it this line's secure. What's the situation?"
Pat says "It's secure. I went to the Octagon House this evening. We've one dead Mercurian and
evidence that a Word-bound hired a Free Lilim in an attempt to protect him."
Stephan pauses. "Unusual. I take it you're suggesting that the Word-bound did it for internal
reasons?"
Pat says "I don't know the reasons. That's what I want investigated. I can't take the time to go up
right now, though. The Word-bound is dead."
Stephan says, "Names?"
Pat says "Christopher."
Stephan says, "And the Mercurian?"
Pat says "Terethel."
Pat says "Both David's. Sariel has assured me that we have her full cooperation, and would
appreciate any information we can provide."
Stephan scribbles something, then says, "I'll look into it. Oh, and you should be getting a visitor
shortly. They just sent someone across with a package for your new partner."
Pat says "A package? When should they arrive?"
Stephan says, "I don't know the details. I'd have thought any time now." There is a murmur to one
side. "Is that all? I have some other stuff I need to see to."
Pat says "That's all. I'll keep you updated. Go in grace."
Stephan says, "Walk in judgement," and puts the phone down.
Pat hangs up the phone, and walks over to the couch.
Pat flops down.
Pat says "Daimon?"
Daimon says "Yeah?"
Daimon sits up.
Pat says "Two things."
Daimon says "Okay."
Pat says "First, I wanted to congratulate you. You've done a fine job today."
Daimon looks immediately suspicious.
Pat blinks.
Pat says "What?"
Daimon says "So what is the second thing?"
Pat says "You've a package on the way."
Daimon says "Containing what?"
Pat says "Stephan didn't know. It should be arriving shortly."
Hitherby says, "From my understanding of Earthly affairs, a lot of fluffy white inedible
things."
Daimon says "Uhhhh.... huh."
<
Daimon looks nonimpressed.
Pat blinks at Hitherby. Then, "Oh. Packing material."
Daimon says "I'm just rather amused that they weren't on top me at the Stone tether."
Pat says "Why would they be? Stone and Judgment have no quarrel."
Daimon says "Not onto Judgment. ME. In particular."
Daimon says "You know, reeking of dishonor, that sort of thing?"
<
Pat blinks. "Actually, I wouldn't know. And if they did, they'd have said so."
Daimon shrugs. "Well, okay. I guess I can fake being a servitor of Judgment to my best
ability."
There is the sound of a motorcycle outside. It stops. Very shortly after, there is a knock on the
door...
Pat chuckles, and rises, moving to the door and looking through the peephole.
The person beyond is female, Ofanite build and jitters, light brown hair, with a black motorcycle
helmet under one arm.
<
She knocks again.
<
<
<
<
Pat unlocks the door and opens it.
<
Galalidan jounces on her heels. "Mazpatiel?"
Pat nods. "You are?"
Galalidan says, "Gala. Is there a redhead here?" She looks past Pat warily.
Pat says "Not at the moment, no."
Pat steps out of the way of the door, before he is knocked down.
Galalidan says "Good. I've got a package for a new... partner of yours, if you're Mazpatiel."
Pat says "Daimon. Someone to see you."
Galalidan makes a gesture at Pat as she breezes in.
Pat closes the door.
Galalidan pages to Demiurge and Pat: New partner, Power? Where'd we get?
Daimon nods to the brown-haired chick as she breezes in, and goes back to peering at the news,
looking for signs of Terryitis.
Pat smirks slightly and gestures downward briefly.
Pat pages to Demiurge and Galalidan: Hell.
Galalidan STOPS DEAD and stares at Pat. "You are kidding."
Galalidan jounces on her heels after a second.
Pat looks mildly at Gala. "Actually, no, I'm not."
Daimon looks up at Pat and Gala.
Galalidan pauses, then shrugs. "Okay. Fine. I got a package for him."
Galalidan is wearing a black nylon backpack over her black denim jacket.
Galalidan shrugs off the backpack and extracts a small box and looks around for someone
matching the description of 'new partner.'
Pat says "Would you like a t-shirt?"
Pat leans against his desk.
Galalidan looks at Pat. "T-shirt? I dunno. Why?"
Daimon grins. "They're very popular."
Pat says "Everyone's wearing them this season."
Daimon says "I mean EVERYONE."
Hitherby buzzes quietly.
Pat nods to the swarm. "Everyone anthropomorphic, rather."
Daimon says "Those who can wear t-shirts, Hitherby."
Galalidan peers at Pat. "They said you were an Elohite..." She shrugs and starts orbiting towards
Daimon with the box. "You the newbie?"
Hitherby wing-giggles.
Pat says "Pithy is part of the Role, Gala. I'm keeping in practice."
Daimon peers at Gala. "I suspect I'm older then you are. But yes. I am the Lilim."
Galalidan says "Oh. Okay."
Galalidan STOPS DEAD again. She stands, holding the box half-way out. "Lilim?"
Daimon says "Right. So you have to take a t-shirt so I can take the box."
Daimon says "There is no choice in the matter."
Galalidan spins and strides over to Pat. From a distance of about two inches from his nose, she
asks, "What is a Discordant Lilim doing here?"
Pat says "Working in service to the Most Just. All is in order, Wheel."
Daimon says "Sitting on the couch."
Hitherby hums, quietly, "Offering you a T-shirt."
Daimon says "And I was watching the news."
Daimon says "And, believe it or not, I even have a name. I know, it's difficult to digest."
Pat pages to Demiurge and Galalidan: Anything I would know about Gala?
Hitherby says "I myself am still experiencing occasional stomach cramps."
Galalidan makes a funny noise in the back of her throat. She steps back and jounces, eyes closed
for a second.
You paged Pat and Galalidan with 'Nope. She's new to you. This may mean she's young, or that
she hasn't had much Earth experience yet.'.
Daimon returns to watching the television.
You paged Pat and Galalidan with 'Then again, you don't know _everyone_. ;)'.
>From afar, to Demiurge and Galalidan, Pat assumes both, and shades his voice with very slight
authority.
Pat waits.
Galalidan turns again and walks over to Daimon, dropping the box into his hands or lap,
whichever seems most appropriate. She then steps backwards and watches Daimon warily,
jouncing on her heels.
Pat says "Are you returning to the Tether, Gala?"
<
Daimon puts the box aside. He gets up, walks to the pile of t-shirts, picks one up, and shoves it
into her hands. He says "I can't accept gifts."
Galalidan says "Will, be, yes. I want to confirm receipt."
Pat nods. "Good. I need you to take something to Stephan." He walks over to Daimon. "The
tape?"
Galalidan takes the t-shirt, somewhat uncomfortably, and shoots a glare at Pat. She makes a
gesture.
Daimon stares at the Ofanite with the eyes of an old Lilim who has had a really really bad day.
Daimon says "The tape."
Pat says "I want to copy it."
Galalidan pages to Demiurge and Pat: Is this for *real*, Power?
Daimon walks to where he threw his coat, fishes around, and hands it to Pat.
Pat takes the tape and walks over to his stereo, finding a discardable tape and starting a quick
dub.
Daimon walks over and sits on the couch. He opens the package.
Pat flicks fingers while he watches the progress.
Hitherby hums, "Sephar might be able to speed that?"
Pat pages to Demiurge and Galalidan: The Most Just has given his instruction.
Inside the package is a small box of dark wood, perhaps the width of a palm, deep ebony and
smoothed by touch. It might be centuries old.
Daimon lifts the box out, casting the packaging aside, and opens it.
Galalidan gives Pat a slightly stricken look, then stuffs the t-shirt into her backpack. Without
looking at it.
Pat hits the stop button and smiles thinly in Hitherby's direction. "It was a brief recording." He
hands the dub to Gala.
Daimon, noticing this out of the corner of his eye, says, "I heard Lilim rip apart little Ofanite with
their sharp pointy teeth and horrible horns."
Galalidan takes the tape. "I should know what this is, or just deliver it?" she murmurs, eying the
box that Daimon has.
Daimon does not look up though.
Pat says "Just deliver it. It's evidence."
Pat says "Stephan will know."
The box is lined with thick white silk. Inside is a single piece of jewellery, a crystal pendant
perhaps an inch and a half across, set in silver and on a silver chain.
Galalidan gives Daimon a _look_. "Right. Evidence." She bundles it into the backpack.
The crystal itself is a powdery, dusty shade: closer inspection shows that it is clear, but fuzzed by
a constant knotted intertwined pattern that runs across it.
Pat looks over at Daimon.
Daimon peers at the piece of jewellery with enormous suspicion, while muttering, "It's totally
true."
You paged Pat and Galalidan with 'If you can see that, you recognise it.'.
Galalidan cranes her neck to look at what's in the box.
Daimon pokes at it rather suspiciously.
You paged Pat and Galalidan with 'It's a Seraph-Token, which Dominic hands out once in a blue
moon. It gives the bearer abilities like a Seraph in truth-kenning, though to a lesser degree.'.
Pat narrows his eyes.
Pat says "Oh my."
Galalidan's jaw drops and she crosses herself.
<
You paged Pat and Galalidan with 'You also seem to recall there is some sort of minor problem
if the bearer tries to lie.'.
Pat says "Daimon."
Galalidan is whispering something incoherent and devout and astonished.
<
<
<
<
<
Daimon lifts it out of the box. "What the heck is this supposed to be?"
You paged Pat and Galalidan with 'You also recall that those things get reclaimed. They're only
on loan.'.
Pat says "It's...."
You paged Pat and Galalidan with 'They're only for "the duration of an assignment".'.
Galalidan says "A *Scale*..."
Pat says "It's a token of Dominic's will."
Daimon blinks.
Daimon says "Okay, what the hell is going on."
Daimon puts it back in the box and closes it.
Galalidan looks as if Daimon just grew feather wings in front of her.
Daimon has a look on his face, somewhere between intense suspicion, and being really pissed at
being bribed.
Pat says "It is my understanding that when a Prince singles you out for 'special attention', it is not
a good thing."
Daimon says "No kidding. It isn't."
Pat nods. "That is not the case with an Archangel."
Daimon says "I dunno about that."
Galalidan sputters, whispering, "A *Scale*...!"
Pat says "I do."
Daimon looks at Gala. "Shouldn't this go to Pat?"
Galalidan whispers, "He issued the demon a *Scale*!"
Pat says "If it should, it would have been sent to me."
Galalidan shakes her head suddenly. "I was told you. By the Seneschal! The new Servitor of
Judgment gets the package!"
Daimon says, with _profound_ irritation in his voice at the Ofanite, "I am not just scum, okay?
So drop it."
Galalidan says "Not Mazpatiel!"
Galalidan opens and closes her mouth fishily for a moment, trying to sort out irritation and
amazement of her own.
Pat looks at Gala. "Yes, Gala. He issued Daimon a Scale. He accepted Daimon into his service.
It is not fair nor polite to judge him so harshly."
Daimon does _not_ look pleased at being singled out like this.
Hitherby hums, quietly, "I note that demonic Discord is acquired by doing undemonic things."
Daimon looks absolutely ragingly angry.
<
<
<
Galalidan does the fish thing at Pat for a moment. Then clenches her jaw. She bows shortly to
Daimon. "My apologies, Daimon. I was startled."
Daimon waves his hand at the Ofanite. "No biggee. You're forgiven."
Daimon looks at the closed box. "So how many years of my LIFE is this thing?"
Pat says "Gala, were you provided with information regarding its return?"
Daimon says "What do you think this is? 5? 10?"
Galalidan doesn't look entirely happy, but some of that seems confusion. "Thank you." She looks
at Pat. "No. I assume Lady Dominique will reclaim it when the assignement it's for is over."
Pat nods. "Sensible."
Galalidan asks Pat, "He really doesn't know what this is?"
Daimon finally says, "I can't afford this. Thank Dominic for the gesture."
Daimon takes the box, gets up off the couch, and thrusts it into the Ofanite's hands.
Daimon says "I just simply can't afford this."
Pat says "Daimon, there is no price. It is provided to aid you, and it will be reclaimed. It is not
yours."
Galalidan backs away and shoves her hands behind her back.
Daimon says "Ah ha. Well, I'm sure that just having it costs something."
Pat says "Yes."
Hitherby hums like an irritated hive.
Daimon says "I'm seeing debt up to my eyeballs. Debt I didn't ask for."
Pat exhales slowly.
Galalidan just looks *confused* now.
Daimon says "It's one thing to bail Sephar out. This is different."
Pat says "Daimon."
Daimon says "At this rate, I'm going to rattle when I walk."
Pat says "Daimon."
Daimon says "WHAT?"
Pat says "Stop, take several deep breaths, and listen to me."
Daimon closes his eyes, and takes a few deep breaths.
Daimon says "So you wonder, when is enough, enough?"
Daimon says "I think I'm learning when that is."
Pat says "I will wait until you are ready to listen."
Daimon forces himself to come down after being amazingly angry.
Daimon says "Okay. I'm listening."
Galalidan backs away to beside the door and shifts from foot to foot quietly.
Pat explains, calmly, "A Scale is an extension of Dominic's will, and of God's truth. As the Most
Holy of the Host resonate with the Truth inherent in the Symphony, so does the Scale. This being
its nature, I need not warn you that falsehoods made by the user are ill-advised. It is not a gift.
It is not a bribe. It is a tool, provided to servitors of Judgment when the situation calls for it, and
is reclaimed when no longer needed. You have already stated your desire to do your job well. It
is clear that Dominic also desires this."
<
Daimon says "AH. HA. I get it."
Daimon says "I really do get it,."
Pat says "Do you?"
Daimon says "Oh, most definitely."
Pat nods.
Daimon puts the box down on the coffee table, and walks over to pick up his coat.
Pat blinks.
Daimon says "The universe becomes clear. I'm going to go take a walk and go punch things until
I stop seething. Hitherby and Sephar are welcome to join me."
Pat says "Clear in what manner?"
Pat resonate resonate resonate.
<
<
Daimon says "Clear in that I know exactly how this all works. I hate the fucking war. Now let me
take a walk."
Pat exhales heavily.
Daimon says "I _will_ get over being angry. And then I will resign myself to wearing that thing.
But in the mean time, I want to go and think."
Hitherby rises gently into the air and hangs around Daimon, not lighting on his head or shoulders,
not hanging directly in front of his face, but otherwise surrounding his head loosely.
Galalidan, confused looking, backs away from the door. One might think she was going to hide
in the kitchen.
Daimon says "Because, after all, I have no choice."
Pat says "No."
Pat says "You have every choice."
Daimon sighs. "I'm tired Pat. But sometimes a slap in the face is a slap in the face. Let me just go
and get over it."
Pat closes his eyes for a moment. "Very well."
Daimon says "I don't have TIME to get depressed again."
Hitherby says, quietly, "I will tell you tonight's story as we walk. And then I will seek someone's
help with the phones so that I may relay it to Sarah. It is late enough, after all."
Daimon nods. "Fine."
Daimon shrugs on his coat, and yells over his shoulder. "Nice meeting you."
You paged Pat with 'Pat would know it can be taken on and off at the owner's whim.'.
You paged Pat with 'You notice that Galalidan is feeling _guilt_.'.
Pat pages: Pat would also know that Daimon's not listening.
Galalidan says, quietly, "I'm *sorry*... I didn't mean..."
Daimon sighs. "It's not your fault I was born this way. Don't worry about it."
Pat says "It's not your fault either, Daimon."
Galalidan repeats quietly, almost like a mantra, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Pat squints at Gala.
Daimon says "I'll be back in something like a half an hour."
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
Pat says "Gala. Speak plainly, please."
Daimon opens the front door, and steps out into the night, making sure to have Sephar and
Hitherby.
Galalidan stutters, "I'm *SORRY*, I didn't *mean* to make him unhappy! I'm sorry! What's going
on?"
There are no immediate gunshots.
Pat . o O ( Immediate. )
Hitherby resists the temptation to fake up a gunshot sound with wingbeats.
Daimon, pleased at this, decides to go for the walk to go cool off.
Pat sighs. "There are many things he is unfamiliar with."
Galalidan continues, "I didn't know, nobody told me, I just heard *discord* and, and, and..."
Galalidan looks at Pat beseechingly. "He doesn't know that he tried to refuse an *honor*?"
Galalidan shifts from foot to foot.
Hitherby hovers around Daimon like a halo or, more accurately, a faceless spacesuit helmet, and
waits.
Daimon walks down the sidewalk, head down, hands in pockets, and not saying anything.
The streets are dark and quiet, as it is now past 10pm, and mostly silent.
Pat nods. "Just so. He is Lilim. All is trade and debt in Hell, for his brethren more than most. He
saw it as either an attempt to gain favor, or as a lever to enforce further service. Were we in Hell,
it would have been both, most likely."
Galalidan cries, "But it *wasn't*!"
Pat says "You know this. I know this. Daimon has no reason to."
Daimon makes a good attempt to get his head together, and let his subconscious chew over all
the facts that were picked up today. Chew chew chew.
Hitherby eventually says, "I think if I were to venture my opinion you would misunderstand."
Galalidan says "But... you *told* him. I... I thought..."
Daimon says, "Go on ahead, Hitherby."
Galalidan throws her hands in the air. "Why didn't they send a Seraph! He would have trusted a
Seraph!"
Pat reaches into his desk and takes out a Rubik's cube. He hands it Gala. "Come sit."
Galalidan . o O (*Everyone* trusts Seraphim.)
<
Galalidan gives Pat a look as she takes the Rubik's. "Do I have to sit still?"
Pat says "That's what the cube is for. Try to align all the colours on a separate side."
<
Galalidan sits, uncomfortably, and starts trying to do the cube. And figets.
Hitherby says, quietly, "I understand that it is not stubbornness, but a kind of blindness that may
well be mutual. It can be frustrating, however, and I am somewhat torn between anger and
compassion."
Pat sits as well. "How many dealings have you had with Hellborn?"
Sephar just curls up in Daimon's pocket quietly and listens to the sturdy Hitherby.
Galalidan figets with the cube. "Um. None. We don't deal with Hellborn. No bargains."
Galalidan gives Pat a confused look.
Pat says "Contact with them."
<
Daimon says "Hitherby, I'm over it. Okay, so I'm a tool. Okay, so I'm being forced to be
something I'm not. I can deal. Right now I'm trying to put all the data in my head together in one
coherent picture."
Galalidan says "Um. Not much. I mean, shot at some, once. They said there might be Calabim
around here."
<
Pat says "I haven't seen any more."
Daimon falls back to silence and continues to walk, hoping his brain does some amazing
gymnastics.
Hitherby considers, and settles down onto Daimon's shoulders. "Then I offer you the blatantly
appropriate but nevertheless authentic story of how it came to be that on rare occasions ants have
wings."
Galalidan says, working on the Orange Squares, "They said that I should be careful around the
red-haired Ofanite of Trade. That she shot someone. They said watch out for Calabim spies or
other demons. They didn't say that your partner was a de--a Lilim!"
Daimon says "Cool."
Pat says "The Hellborn hold a different mindset than the outcast or the Fallen. They have never
known the light. Raised blind in darkness, it is inconceivable to most of them that Heaven can
even exist. And yes. She shot Jada-dan. It has been dealt with."
Galalidan figets and messes up Orange Squares to get White Squares. "Nobody told me. I
wouldn't have... I was *startled*!"
Pat says "You are young, Gala." This is a statement. "We are more concerned with ultimates than
intermediates, on many occasions. Earthbound it is doubly so."
Hitherby says, thoughtfully, "Heaven and Hell spend much time concealing their works from
humans, but it is not really a secret among the animals. Not that many animals really understand
what any of it *means*, or how to identify angels or demons, or anything like that, but they
*know*."
Sephar scrambles up Daimon's jacket to perch on the opposite shoulder to hear Hitherby's story
better.
Pat says "I am associated, however loosely, to two demons, one of the Wanderer's, and a
Gabrielite."
Galalidan gives Pat another confused look. "But... But..."
Pat holds up a finger. "But. All of them look to the Light, knowingly or unknowingly, and know
that it is good."
Galalidan says, forcefully, "*Demons*??"
Pat nods.
Galalidan says "But... But nobody told me that this one was going to redeem! Demons are bad!
Demons are what we don't want angels to be!"
Pat says "Yes."
Hitherby says, "For example, a long long time ago, before human civilization really began, there
were occasional corporeal battles between angelic and demonic forces, and as long as there were
no humans to see -- the wreckage was left untouched. Fallen or failed Infernal relics were left to
seep their evil into the Earth. I suppose that there were probably Divine relics that seared the
Earth with their light -- if there are stories of such, they are politely not told to angels."
Pat says "I cannot say for certain that Daimon will Redeem, or even that he desires to."
Galalidan wails, "Nobody *told* me! I didn't mean to screw up a redemption!"
Galalidan boggles at Pat then.
Pat says "He cannot see the Light, Gala, though he still reaches for it."
Pat says "Until he /can/ see, he has no reason to desire it."
Galalidan hunkers in her chair and figets with the cube.
Galalidan guilt guilt guilt
Pat says "The other one earnestly desires the Light."
Galalidan mutters, "At least I probably can't screw up *that* one..."
Hitherby says, "Once upon a time, an ant named Water made the connection -- realized that where
there was a thing of Infernal power -- there was *power*. And he thought that this was good.
Maybe he was going to help his people with it, or maybe he was going to set himself above them
-- you will see in time why we do not know."
Pat says "You judge yourself harshly."
Galalidan says, "You were right. I was pre-judging." She fiddles with the cube morosely.
Pat nods. "I say this now, to allow for correction."
Galalidan says, "Oh. But I screwed up a redemption. I didn't... I didn't think the Most Just would
give him a *Scale*..."
Hitherby says "So he walked into the corruption one of these relics spread. Do not take this as
a judgment of all demons -- but you know as well as I that there are those in Hell whose touch
is poison and whose hearts are blacker than Lucifer's caverns. This was a relic of such kind, and
as he walked towards it his feet began to burn."
Pat says "There is no evidence that you have screwed up a redemption."
Galalidan messes up the cube without looking. "But he walked out. Because I... prejudged."
Pat says "He walked out because he cannot yet see. That is no fault of yours, or of his."
Galalidan says "But he got mad at *me*."
Pat says "He got mad."
Hitherby says "The ant, Water -- he was strong. He kept walking. The pain spread. His whole
body felt as if it was on fire. He could barely breathe, and each breath was pain. He was nearly
blind, nearly deaf, nearly anosmic, but he still knew direction, and he walked on."
Pat says "At you. At me. At Heaven, Hell, and everything in between."
Galalidan says "But it's an *honor*..."
Pat says "How much honor lies in Hell?"
Hitherby says "And he came at last to a gremlin that sat atop the artifact as if it was a throne. And
Water was the first toy that that gremlin had seen in a long time, because nothing living came near
that place."
Galalidan says "But... but the *Most Just* assigned the Scale to him!"
Pat exhales. "Gala."
Galalidan looks at Pat, with bewilderment stark on her face.
Pat says "I am poor with stories. Our narrator followed Daimon to the street. But I will attempt
this nonetheless."
Galalidan fiddles with the cube and listens.
Hitherby says "So the gremlin smiled, and picked Water up, and placed him atop the relic, and
said, "I see in your heart why you have come, oh speck of flesh. And for your presumption, I
sentence you thus: the burning that you feel will turn your feet to ashes, and I will lower you a
little more. Your legs will char and flutter away, and I will lower you more. Your stomach -- your
body -- your head -- and then at last, your antennae, the seat of your soul, I will press against the
artifact, and the last thing you will feel will be your inner self burning.""
Hitherby says "And so it began, and so it was."
Hitherby says "And then the gremlin frowned."
Hitherby says "Water was beyond knowing why. He simply took heart that his tormentor was,
however momentarily, unhappy. And the burning continued to spread."
Pat says "Do you know Shaalbim? He is one of our Guardians. I worked with him once and only
once, centuries ago. My first Earthbound assignment. It was then that I was given the vessel you
see, in fact. A Seraph of the Wind had Fallen."
Hitherby says "And then there was a wind, and the ashes blew away, and yet Water remained. For
there was a secret that the gremlin did not know: that there were some things that even the relic's
malice could not touch. That there was a life in Water that could not be destroyed simply by
corruption -- that it was just the weaknesses in his flesh that molted away. And then the pain was
gone. But, of course, it did not matter, for the gremlin was still there, and could tear what
remained of Water asunder. There is no ant with the tensile strength to resist even an impling's
power."
Galalidan nods to Pat and fiddles with the cube.
Hitherby says "And as the rather annoyed gremlin decided to do just this thing, there was a slight
cough behind him. And he turned, and saw a thing with many eyes and many hands and many
voices, and it was the first Kyriotate and the first Archangel that the gremlin had seen."
Hitherby says "But the fact that the Great One could show up and save an ant's life is not precisely
the point to this story. Although he does, and fairly often, all things considered."
Pat says "Matri was her name before she Fell. After our briefing, Shaalbim explained to me that
he once knew her, and her habits. They were friends, in Heaven, and thus he was attuned to her.
I knew of demons, of course, but I had never met one."
Hitherby says "For when the gremlin and the Great One were gone, one more permanently than
the other, Water also turned to leave. And as he looked down at the ashes where corruption had
seared his weaknesses away, the wings at his back unfolded."
Pat says "We came to Earth in Singapore. I was astounded by the Symphony about me. It was
not a single, pure melody as I had left behind in Heaven. It was tumultuous and layered, the sound
of pure humanity thronging to its purpose. Life."
Galalidan looks somewhere between confused and slighly dismayed.
Hitherby says "We will never know why Water sought that power. We cannot; he had changed
too much. We only know that sometimes there is a purity at the far end of Hell. And that for this
reason, when Water's blood shines through in his distant descendants, sometimes ants have
wings."
Sephar wow's softly.
Hitherby says "That is the story."
Daimon says "Very entertaining. A little heavy handed on the moral, but very entertaining.
Another extremely well done Hitherby tale of the World of Animals."
Pat says "I was fascinated, by the variety and depth of human emotion, by the complexity of their
minds. Shaalbim kept me well, though, reminding me of my place and my duty. We found Matri
that night, languishing in an opium den, surrounded by human decadence."
Daimon says "Do you want to know why I am so angry? Or just chalk it up to my demonic
nature?"
Galalidan wrinkles her nose just a little, for a moment, before she remembers not to pre-judge --
even stories.
Hitherby says, seriously, "I believe I know. Would it do you more good to explain it to me or, if
I do understand, to discover that fact?"
Daimon finds a spot on the grass under a tree to sit down at, off the sidewalk. He settles there,
back to the tree.
Sephar scrambles up the trunk of the tree to explore the lower branches and still hear.
Daimon says "It's a couple of things, Hitherby. First off, it's TANSTAAFL. I cannot accept a gift,
of any kind for any duration, for free. That is my nature. But mostly, it is deeper then that. It is
the other part of my nature that no one wants to talk about. It's Free Will."
Pat says "We identified ourself, alert for resistance or treachery. But she came along willingly,
smiling all the while. I could feel nothing but well-being from her, a pleasant languidity. Shaalbim
and Zerahiah were both wary, though, despite my assurances."
Galalidan nods. "Because she'd Fallen. She was a Balseraph," she says cautiously.
Sephar knocks a leaf off by accident, so scrambles back to settle on Daimon's shoulder again.
"What's TANSTAAFL? Sorry..."
Daimon says "I was given an object which will Judge me as well as the people I use it on. In fact,
I am not trusted with my own sense of Judgment, and it has been decided that it is better if it was
augmented somehow, to be more 'pleasing' to my service. This removes a certain amount of my
free will. I now have to judge my own actions before doing it, so this device doesn't punish me
in some way. This, I find, personally and deeply appalling."
Daimon says "TANSTAAFL, Sephar, is There Is No Such Thing As A Free Lunch. Basically,
nothing, nothing at all, is free. Period. No service, no item, nothing."
Pat nods, a bit regretfully. "Yes. I can only plead inexperience. We found a private room, and
began the Inquiry. I had never heard a lie until this time."
Sephar blinks and digests that.
Hitherby hums, quietly, "I had believed it to offer you Truth, not Judgment, and require
Truth."
Daimon says "I need my Freedom. It's part of my nature. For good or for evil, until I bind, and
long afterwards, it will be a part of me."
Pat says "Until she spoke."
Daimon says "It required Truth of myself as well. Not that I lie, not that I want to lie. But I like
my options. I desire my freedom."
Galalidan wrinkles her nose again. Lying Is Bad.
Hitherby says, "I don't understand. You don't believe that not lying is a fair price for knowing all
kinds of truths?"
Daimon says "I don't believe in an artificial constriction on the self."
Hitherby says "Then what is any bargain, trade, or agreement?"
Sephar says "Can you give it to someone else, Daimon? Who wants to make that trade?"
Daimon says "A fair trade is an agreed constriction based on predetermined terms. There is no
predetermined terms here. There is a desired change in my personality."
Pat says "It was a twisted thing, Gala, misshapen and evil. The Symphony itself shrieked in
protest, ringing with dissonance. That such a thing could exist shocked me deeply, despite having
been told that it was out there. Shaalbim took me aside, after we returned to Heaven."
Daimon says "No, Sephar. One does not upset Pri-, er Archangels."
Hitherby says, softly, "No one's forcing you to wear it, you know."
Daimon says "The Prince of Judgment holds my geas and my service. I can be easily forced to
wear it."
Sephar blinks quietly.
Galalidan shivers. Softly, she says, "A Soldier once told me a lie, so I'd know that it could be
done. He said that a wall was green, when it was white. I... I hear Balseraphs are worse."
Hitherby says, "This is precisely why I was angry, Daimon."
Sephar bobs a nod.
Hitherby says, "You believe Heaven works that way."
Sephar sighs quietly, "And it doesn't. When she says no one is forcing you, she means that."
Daimon says "The geas was for agreed on terms. Not a change in myself. No changes in my
personality without swearing to service."
Sephar says "Then give it back."
Daimon says "I cannot give it back, I don't think. Unless I take it to the tether and reject it. At that
point, it will look like I have rejected a Superior's favor, an insult which can easily lead to some
nastiness I don't want to think about."
Pat nods. "Shaalbim told me of Hell, then. Where everything is a lie. Where the Truth is not
welcome. Where the hellborn and fallen alike cling to the lie, embrace the deformity that is
seperation from God. Because it's /better/ /than/ /nothing/."
Hitherby says, quietly, "I actually had the vague impression that the wearer's falsehoods might
break it or risk breaking it, not that it would lash out and exact punishment. I can only see *that*
happening if that was the only possible way to construct it."
Galalidan whispers, "But it's *not*... It's better to, to die the final death... I would *never* want
to be a Calabite!"
Sephar says "No. Say that you appreciate the thought and the power invested but you do not
choose to use the tool give and give it back. She won't think less of you for it, when you tell the
truth to her."
Pat says "And that is the truth."
Daimon says "If I break it, I'm in all sorts of trouble. And I don't think I can get away with giving
it back."
Galalidan says "But..."
Pat says "That is why we aim to find the fallen quickly, Gala."
Galalidan fiddles with the Rubik's Cube and listens.
Pat says "It is more compassionate, more merciful to grant the Fallen oblivion, before they may
be absorbed by the Lie."
Hitherby says "Alternately, consider whether you are willing to bargain away your falsehoods --
such as they are -- in order to have power that will help us navigate this situation. And if you are
not willing, then I will happily take the scale to the Tether and demand any punishment Dominic
would require be applied to me myself. This would be intensely embarrassing when the Seneschal
looked at me and said just how ridiculous the thought was, of course, that he would punish either
of us, but, hey, I've been embarrassed."
Galalidan nods. "Yes. Exactly."
Hitherby says "Nor will I be critical of you for refusing."
Hitherby says "I try not to lie about anything important, but I understand that it is a kind of
freedom."
Hitherby says "And, well, sometimes I do."
Pat says "The Hellborn have not lost the light, Gala. They have never known it. They were created
within the Lie."
Hitherby hums in amusement.
Galalidan's shoulders slump. "And I screwed up a redemption candidate."
Daimon leans his head against the treebark and closes his eyes. "Hitherby, I don't want to be
changed against my will. Is that so bad?"
Hitherby says, "Nope."
Daimon says "Do you see why I'm so very upset?"
Hitherby hums thoughtfully.
Pat sighs. "He has not chosen to pursue Redemption. His nature is not drawn to Hell."
Hitherby says "I think so."
Daimon says "I have a simple compromise."
Pat says "Daimon treads the middle, for the time being."
Galalidan looks confused. "But... But how could he be in service to the Most Just, if not... If he
weren't eventually going to seek redemption?"
<
Hitherby says "You are experiencing all the irritation that restriction brings at the front end, rather
than as it happens. Sort of. I can understand the 'as it happens', so I can extrapolate to the 'front
end.'"
Pat says "I did not say he would not, eventually."
Pat says "I cannot tell."
Pat says "Daimon, most likely, cannot tell."
Hitherby says "My offer was sincere, incidentally."
Galalidan says, cautiously, "The Most Just believes that he will seek it eventually, then?"
Galalidan . o O (It's the only thing that makes sense!)
Hitherby hums thoughtfully.
Hitherby says "There is a possibility you are overlooking."
Pat says "That is my assessment. Thus, I will have faith in the Judgment."
Daimon says "No, I won't give it back. If it is removable, I will wear the... device... while I work
directly within my newly found job. And when I take it off, I go back to being Daimonique, happy
go lucky Kobalite and Happy To Be A Comedian, Thanks."
Galalidan nods. And then promptly looks miserable again. "I insulted him. I will have to report
my fault." She squares her shoulders and fiddles with the cube.
Pat says "Have you realized your error?"
Hitherby says "I believe that Dominic is incapable of punishing the undeserving. Literally.
Therefore, if wearing it would be a punishment, perhaps Dominic does not intend it to be worn
-- simply to be in your possession, as a sign of his honor, in case any of his miscellaneous servants
misjudge you."
Galalidan sets the cube down and pulls out the ever-present small notebook and pencil to make
notes. "I pre-judged him. I treated him... like a demon, and not a redemption candidate."
<
Daimon says "Possibly."
Daimon says "Maybe I should just carry it, for the time being."
Hitherby says "In the box?"
Daimon says "No, out of the box. In my pocket."
Daimon says "We gotta get back, Hitherby. I don't want Pat thinking that I got shot up by who
knows what."
Pat says "He is a demon. I guarantee you he will announce this loudly. But he is one of our own,
at the moment. There is the spark of Light within him, seen or no, and that must be realized and
respected."
Galalidan makes careful notes, and very dark ones with underlining.
Hitherby nods. "Would you like me to notify him that you are well?"
Daimon says "Nah, I can walk back."
There is the sound of tuneless whistling from down the road, heading Daimon's way.
Daimon does what every extremely paranoid demon does. He dives for cover behind the tree.
<
Hitherby flutters to land against the tree.
<
Pat says "Do you understand, now?"
Daimon hides behind said tree, and readies Unnoticable Man glasses.
Hitherby crawls up to just above a normal human-Vessel's eye level.
<
Daimon pretends he's NOT HERE.
The Whistling Figure comes into view. It's a man. In a battered coat. With his hair in Rasta braids.
He's got a backpack slung over one shoulder, and is rooting in it with a free hand.
The Whistling Figure plucks out a wooden flute.
Galalidan says, "I think so. I shouldn't have pre-judged. I should have been polite to him." She
looks up from her notes. "I *am* sorry, really I am! But I... I didn't think there'd be a
*demon*..."
Daimon blinks from behind the tree. It's hard to be really afraid of guys in Rasta braids.
Hitherby . o O ( An*other* one? )
Pat says "Don't think of him as a demon. Think of him as Daimon."
Galalidan mumbles, "And he *is* Discordant. I can hear it. It makes my teeth hurt."
Hitherby hums, thoughtfully, "Sir."
Pat says "Remember what the Domination said. A Discordant demon denies the Lie."
The figure glances towards the tree, and raises the flute to his lips. He begins to pick out the
melodic line from _Ode to Joy_.
Daimon comes out from behind the tree, and leans on it, arms crossed.
Daimon says "Bach on a wooden flute. I thought the melody line was carried by 1st Oboe."
<
<
<
Galalidan's shoulders slump again. "I'll remember it." She sighs. "I need to apologize..."
<
The man lowers the flute. He says, basso profundo, "Boy, you want an oboe, I got an oboe, but
I sure ain't carrying a double bass."
Pat says "Stay, then. You have one side of the cube almost done. He will return."
Daimon says "I can't play an oboe. I could never get the double reed to vibrate just the right
way."
Galalidan says, smally, "Okay." She pauses. "Can I pace now?"
Daimon says "ALTHOUGH... the fingerings are identical to flute."
Pat chuckles. "Of course."
The man says, "Hey, you do flute, man?"
Galalidan gets up and paces. While she paces, she looks at the t-shirt inside her backpack.
Pat picks his cigarettes up from the table, eying the wooden box next to them.
Daimon says "Not well, but yeah, sometimes."
Daimon says "Everyone in their long musical career goes through a flute period."
Daimon says "Woodwinds, ya know. We all think we're gonna be Benny Goodman."
The man says, "Anyone who wants to do flute, man, they got to know... how to blow." He purses
his lips and whistles a C.
Galalidan asks Pat, "Do I *have* to keep the t-shirt? It's very..." She wrinkles her nose in the
manner of young, strident Judgment Servitors who don't believe in Fun.
Daimon laughs. "But you blow across and in, not whistle."
Daimon says "I'm Daimon."
Pat lights a cigarette. "It's whimsical."
Galalidan says "It's disrespectful."
The man says, "I'm high. You aren't the hand of the Man, are you, man?"
<
Pat says "You do not love Judgment?"
Daimon says "Are you kidding me?"
Galalidan says, "Of *course* I do! But on a *t-shirt*? LIke a rock band slogan?"
Hitherby says, "He's more like the amputated big toe of the Man, that hops around getting into
trouble when the Man isn't looking."
Daimon waves to his black leather with t-shirt and bits of bondage gear. "Yeah, the Man.
Me."
The man says, "Hey, this shit is good. I even get the bugs talking."
The man says, "Cause, if you aren't the man, I need a guy who can play the flute. I need to whistle
real loud, cause the stars still aren't talking back to me."
Daimon says "I can play badly. I'm mostly a stringed instrument man. Guitars, you know."
The man fishes in his backpack. "Hey, man. No room for a guitar in here. I got flute, I got weed,
I got chocolate, I got harmonica, but I don't get no guitar in here."
Galalidan leaves, vibrating back to her motorcycle, and zooms off into the night.
Pat watches Galalidan leave, and settles into reflective smoking.
Daimon says "I can do flute, weed, and harmonica."
Daimon fishes into his coat pocket and pulls out his cheap $15 silver plated harmonica.
The man raises the flute to his lips again, and plays up and down an arpeggio.
Daimon says "Keen."
Hitherby diverts a Patpatrolswarm to tap against the window at Pat's place.
Daimon makes a point of looking impressed.
He lowers the flute.
Pat breaks out of nicotine reverie, walking to the window and opening it.
He says, "You ever seen Deliverance, boy? You ever seen the banjos?"
Daimon says "Why yes, I have seen the dueling banjos."
Hitherby, at Pat's, informs the Elohite, "Daimon may be a while."
Pat blinks. "Why is that?"
Hitherby, on the tree, looks faintly embarrassed. She never studied beyond choir.
Daimon oozes of Love For Music.
The man says, "Let's do this right."
Daimon says "Uh oh."
The man slips his flute back into the backpack, and pulls forth... a harmonica.
Daimon lifts an eyebrow and grins.
Daimon says "I'm pretty awful, my man."
The man raises it to his lips, and wheezes music.
Hitherby, at Pat's, says, "A rootless wanderer with weird hair wants him to play an instrument
with him."
Daimon pulls out his harmonica, picks out the fuzz and yuck out of it, and blows some air over
it.
Pat blinks again, and looks almost sad for a moment. "He'd likely be offended if I asked to come
listen."
The man raises a finger. "But wait! This contest is unfair!"
Hitherby, at Pat's, bobs. "I would offer to relay, but either it won't be very good or it'll be better
than I could reproduce. Depending."
Daimon grins. "Probably. I can beat your ass any day of the week old man."
Daimon looks like he's OBVIOUSLY joking.
He says, solemnly, "Boy, you is stone cold sober, and I am three miles high. You are way out of
your league."
Pat says "Could you ask Daimon if I may listen?"
Daimon considers. "This is, indeed, true. My sobriety has been a troubling problem all day. I need
a cure."
Hitherby points out, "But he isn't distracted by insects talking to him. Daimon, could Pat come
and listen, perhaps?"
Daimon looks over his shoulder at Hitherby, obviously cheerier. "If he's done, sure."
The man fishes in his backpack again. This time, out comes a small bag of dark brown stuff. He
tosses it to Daimon, wandering towards The Tree.
The man says, "Hey, do the bugs want some too?"
Hitherby says, "Chocolate would be nice. Do you object to a friend coming and listening?"
Daimon fiddles with the bag, papers, and the stuff inside until he creates an appropriate joint.
Harmonica juggling and lighter juggling, he gets it lit and tokes. *ffffffffffffft*
The man says, "Naaah. Let's have an audience. Come one, come all." He reaches across and
manages himself a joint.
Daimon helps out in the joint making process.
Hitherby, at Pat's house, bobs. "You may come. There are drugs and chocolate."
The man blows a puff of smoke in the direction of Hitherbugs. It floats towards them, in an
elegant ring.
Pat says "I believe I'll just listen."
Pat grabs his cigarettes and heads out of the house, shirtsleeves and collar loose.
Daimon says "You know, man, this is great. But I don't even know your name."
The man says, "I am the Guy who Smokes Dope and Plays the Harmonica. Ask anywhere. They
all know me."
Hitherby accompanies Pat, until he gets there, at which point she returns that swarm to the house
and patrol.
Daimon says "Totally cool and acceptable."
Pat walks up to the two men. "Evening."
<
Sarah, as if on cue, approaches from the other direction. Parked some distance away again,
evidently. She's discarded jacket and blouse in favor of one of the LOVE JUSTICE shirts, and her
glasses are *still* missing.
Daimon tokes deeply as Pat gets there. *fffffffft* "Evening."
The man looks from side to side. "Witnesses! For the duel!"
Pat finds a bench and sits. "I'm not disturbing?"
>From afar, Pat needs must resonate on harmonica boy.
Daimon says "Witnesses to see my tragic downfall and humilation!"
Daimon says "WOO HOO!"
Daimon tokes again. *ffffft* Mmmmmm... good stuff. Feeling nice and mellow.
The man finds some chocolate in his backpack. The really dark, rich stuff. He breaks off a piece,
and says, "Hey, buggies, catch!"
The man tosses the chocolate towards the swarm of Hitherbugs.
Daimon resonates on the man.
Hitherby notes, "I believe the Tibetan yellowjackets do not know you, sir, although they have
expressed the desire to." She nabs it neatly in midair with four bugs.
<
<
Sarah blinks mildly at Daimon's company, and veers quickly for the bench next to Pat, looking
decidedly pleased.
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
Sarah curls up beside Pat, with a faint, contented smile.
<
Pat smiles at Sarah, and slides an arm around her shoulders.
The man calls across to Pat and Sarah, "Hey, you two high on chocolate or the weed, or
something else?"
Daimon waves his harmonica. "Are you ready to be woefully humiliated on this streetcorner? Be
prepared to fall before my mightiness!"
Daimon looks over his shoulder. "Nah. I think they're just high on each other."
Hitherby sets the chocolate down in a secluded place (from an insect POV) and nibbles,
listening.
Pat smiles faintly at the man. "Love."
Daimon tokes. *ffffft*
The man grins, tokes, and breathes deeply into his harmonica, working through the first line of
"I Dreamed I Saw St Augustine".
Sarah blushes promptly, and curls to show the message on her T-shirt with a laugh.
Daimon, knowing this song well, sings the lyrics to accompany.
Pat kisses Sarah on the cheek.
The Guy With The Harmonica accompanies.
Sarah kisses Pat on the cheek, and leans her head on his shoulder.
Daimon sings, in his own sort of weird way. "I dreamed I saw St. Augustine / Alive as your or
me, / Tearing through these quarters / In the utmost misery, / With a blanket underneath his arm
/ and a coat of solid gold / Searching for the very souls / Whom already have been sold...."
The Guy plays deep and sympathetic harmonica in the background.
Pat closes his eyes and just /listens/.
Daimon sings, ""Arise, arise," he cried so loud, / In a voice without restraint, / "Come out, ye
gifted kings and queens / And hear my sad complaint. / No martyr is among ye now / Whom you
can call your own, / So go on your way accordingly / But know you're not alone."
The harmonica notes follow Daimon's voice. This guy plays _good_ accompaniment. He's not
trying to hog the sound, he's working _with_ you on it.
Daimon finishes the song. "I dreamed I saw St. Augustine, / Alive with fiery breath, / And I
dreamed I was amongst the ones / That put him out to death. / Oh, I awoke in anger, / So alone
and terrified, / I put my fingers against the glass / And bowed my head and cried."
Daimon says "I need my acoustic to really make the song."
The guy kicks back and takes another toke. "Man, I left my axe back at home, under the bed."
Daimon finishes off the joint he was working on. *fffffffft*
Daimon says "Man, that sucks. My guitar collection is all the way back in LA."
The guy calls across to Sarah and Pat, "Hey, either of you two play or sing?"
He says, to Daimon, "Hey, kid, that's cruel. That is savage. You need a guitar to express your
_soul_."
Pat looks at the guy. "I just listen, I'm afraid."
Daimon says "I do. I really do. But I got called out here on business suddenly, you know, and
haven't had a chance to get one."
Hitherby offers, "I can sing. But I'm a bit untraditional. You know, bugs and our modernistic
tastes."
The guy frowns. "Well, hey, the buggies can sing while we do the harmonica duel. And I tell you
what, kid."
Daimon says "Yeah?"
The guy says, "If you win, you get a guitar."
Daimon is starting to feel really vague.
He tokes, again.
Daimon says "Yer kidding me. Guitars are expensive."
Daimon says "I spent $900 on an Ovation Roundbody."
He says, in tones of deep wisdom, "It's the music that's expensive. Guitars are cheap."
Daimon says "You ever go price an Ibanez Prez? If you did, you'd revise that opinion."
Sarah just smiles, eyes shining. And murmurs to Pat, "I'd been hoping for this."
Pat looks at Sarah. Blinks.
<
<
<
The guy says, "Hey, hey. I am full of love for the world. Besides, I have good weed. Therefore
there will be good guitars. It is Written."
<
Sarah smiles at Pat. "Yes?"
Daimon says "And so it shall be done!"
Pat says "Waiting for what?"
Daimon says "Cool. Then I shall have to slaughter you with my mighty harmonica."
The guy blows a sarcastic *phweeeeep*.
Daimon raspberries back.
Daimon looks at his harmonica suspiciously. It is an instrument of Funniness.
Sarah nods to the pair and harmonicas. "Something like this, at least."
The man tokes again. "Boy howdy. You know, the last time I was like this, I was sitting next to
my old friend, and I said to him, I said..." He trails off, blows another note.
Daimon says "Yeah? Yeah? What did you say?"
Pat ohs, and just pulls Sarah a bit closer.
The man says, "I said to him, I said, "Anyone can play jazz. But they gotta have soul. They gotta
listen to the melody before they sing the harmony. And they gotta have *rhythm*."
Daimon listens to this and groks deeply. "Woah, excellent."
Sarah argues not, and puts both arms around him.
The man waves his free hand. "And he said, "Yeah, kid, but thing is, I want to be the *star*." And
I said, "Yeah, kid, but I want a *band*.""
Daimon says "Woah. Good point. Very good point."
<
Daimon says "You can only get so far being only the star. You need the harmony."
Daimon says "Or it sounds very, I don't know. Lonely? Flat?"
He says, "Yeah," and blows a note. "Yeah, flat. And you gotta have the pitchpipe." He calls
across to Pat, "Ain't that so? You gotta have the pitchpipe to know where you're at?"
Daimon says "Well, if you're gonna tune, you need 'em. Because guitars tend to go flat on
you."
Sarah just smiles.
Pat nods to the man. "All you have to do is listen to it."
The man leans back. "So, you got your pitchpipe, you got your sheet music, you got your
harmonica, you gonna make some music." He blows some smoke at Daimon. "So hey, big boy.
You get first blow."
Daimon will roll that Artistry (Music) to play, then.
Daimon raises the harmonica to his lips and plays.
<
Daimon plays Not Badly.
<
The man picks up the remains of his Big Rich Dark chocolate bar, and tosses it towards Sarah and
Pat.
Pat catches the chocolate, nods his thanks, and breaks off a piece to offer to Sarah.
He says, "You blow with soul, maaan."
Hitherby listens for a while, since you cannot form harmonies unless you know the melody
lines.
Daimon looks mildy pleased with himself, for just making up stuff.
Sarah smiles thanks to both man and Pat, and accepts the piece offered. She is not *quite*
gratuitously cute enough to nibble it out of Pat's fingers.
Daimon says "Your turn."
Hitherby hums, startled, "I thought you were going to play together?"
Pat chuckles silently and goes back to listening.
The man starts to play along, working with Daimon's theme, but adding ornaments, and shifting
it up a few keys. He somehow manages to take a toke amid this, resulting in pot-flavoured
music.
Daimon plays like the wind, baby, working it into and around the man's music.
Hitherby, after about a minute, twitching her legs a bit nervously, begins to sing several wordless
harmonies, fairly soft, trying to bridge the gaps that musical instruments, with their fixed sets of
tones, can leave.
<
<
The man begins to change his variations, working towards something vague and interesting, that
spirals up and down.
Daimon attempts to follow his lead.
He alters his music back towards the more normal, but there's something almost condescending
about it, almost goading.
Hitherby, bravely standing up for her Choir, sings in Kyriotate patterns. She also keeps it soft,
though, just in case she screws up.
Daimon, who wants that guitar, attempts to follow to the best of his ability. He's not really great
on the harmonica, and wishes he had that flute instead.
<
The guy appears to sense Daimon's wishes. Perhaps it is the telepathy of two trained musicians.
He kicks the backpack in Daimon's direction, and the flute rolls out, together with another bag
of pot.
Pat leans forward, obliquely so as not to unseat Sarah, and lifts the flute to Daimon.
<
<
Daimon stuffs the now spitty and nasty harmonica into his pocket and grabs the flute. He takes
a few seconds adjusting it to his tastes and feels, takes a few experimental blows to get his lips
set right, and then starts making music. It's very obvious he's rusty, and it's very obvious he has
spent long quality time with this particular instrument.
The guy tootles vaguely on the harmonica, just accompanying till Daimon has a better grasp on
the flute. It's a good flute, nice old wood.
Pat picks up the bag of pot and straightens. He then begins rolling a series of joints.
Daimon appreciates the sound of nice old wood. He warms up fairly quickly, as old habits come
screaming on back.
The guy continues on the harmonica, but is clearly outmatched by Daimon On Flute!
Daimon seems very content to go flying up and down arpeggios and give the instrument a firm
workout, knowing his lips are gonna get him back for this in new and nasty ways.
Pat eventually tosses the baggie back onto the guy's backpack, now filled with ready-rolled
joints.
The guy has a sudden resurgence of talent. He collects a joint, and starts in on pot-flavoured
Mozart.
Daimon has been thwarted! The man can play pot flavored Mozart ON A HARMONICA!
Daimon attempts to keep up.
Hitherby gently drifts most of her harmonics to support Daimon's melody line, with just a faint
and weak and even softer-voiced accompaniment for the talent-resurging man.
Pat closes his eyes again, his body stilling as he just soaks up the music.
The man can, indeed, play Mozart on a harmonica. However, Daimon on flute is beginning to
overtake him.
Daimon attempts to change his tactic and just JAM with the guy.
Daimon decides, to hell with a contest, and concentrates on making music.
The man seems to come to the same conclusion. There is music. There is a lot of music.
Pat basks in the music.
Daimon makes lots of music. He is happy.
As the man plays, Daimon begins to feel... odd. Perhaps it's the pot. It's as if there is music in the
air, in the earth, in the bodies of Pat and Sarah, in his own body. It's as if he could reach that
music, if he just *tried*.
Daimon stops playing, and looks down at the flute.
The man plays a final note, and lowers his harmonica.
Daimon says "That was weird."
He grins. "Hey, man, you do good work."
Hitherby fades out as soon as she realizes the other two have finished.
Daimon feels distracted. "Yeah..."
The man sighs. "And now I owe you a guitar. And I owe the buggies something too."
Daimon waves a hand. "No, that's okay. Is there something in the pot?"
Pat opens his eyes, looking at Daimon. *ping*
<
<
Daimon is blinking around, oddly, trying to figure out where that came from.
Daimon puts his lips to the flute, and tries some experiments.
The music is still there, and the flute still sounds wonderful.
The man says, "Yeah. There's pot in the pot."
Daimon stops playing, and looks at the flute in a really new and bizarre way.
Daimon blinks, and looks around and, well, everything. He spins in a little circle.
He waves his harmonica. "Hey, you've got to finish the music. It's like sex. You wanna do it well,
you do it in cooperation and you finish the stuff. Right?"
Daimon says "Yeah, um, I think the pot is effecting my head."
Daimon says "Not that this is bad, but just weird."
He leans forward. "What is the problem with pot affecting your head? It's a cute head. It plays
flute well."
Daimon grins. "Years of practice, my man. Years of pain and agony and blisters that I don't even
wanna think about."
Daimon waggles a hand. "Now I've just got guitar callouses. You could cut meat on these
things."
He says, "Hey, you got to _suffer_ to play music well. Right?"
Daimon says "Well, yeah, in a way. Mostly you use tons of band-aids."
He grabs another toke.
Daimon looks at the flute.
Daimon pulls it to his lips, and plays a little on it.
The man says, "See, I'm looking for a guy to play guitar. Thing is," he takes a puff, "you teach
them to play guitar, then you let them go. Right? You can't dictate what they'll do. You ain't the
Man."
Sarah curls against Pat and looks, very faintly, smug. Not selfishly so; just that pleased.
The man says, waving his joint, "The point, the point is ... that they play it well. Then they gotta
go out and do it. Cause an artist has to do art."
Pat holds Sarah close and runs a hand lightly over her hair.
Daimon stops playing the flute. "Well, yeah. And even lessons don't help. I mean, soloing and
stuff, that all comes right from the soul. You can teach 'em pentatonic scales, you can teach them
moveable chords, but you can't teach soul. You gotta learn soul."
The man says, "Yeah. That's personal."
Daimon says "It's seriously personal. And when you're just jammin', then you're letting your soul
out for all to see."
The man says, "And then, right, they can go work for the biggest orchestra in town, or they can
smoke pot in parks, but they gotta play. They gotta show their soul."
Daimon says "It's a totally spiritual experience, when you're in the groove."
The man says, "You got it."
Daimon says "You gotta play. Or you gotta stand on stage and make a fool of yourself. Either
way, you gotta get it out and do it."
Daimon blinks. "I don't play music professionally. I do comedy professionally. Weird, huh?"
He shakes his head. "Hey, it's all art. Ask your friends the buggies. If you do it with soul, it's art,
and it's music. It's..." he looks for words, then says, meaningfully, "It is the music of your
soul."
Pat blinks a few times.
Daimon says "Pretty much. 'Specially if you write it yourself."
The man says, brightly, "Yes! You are enlightened Man! You understand!"
Hitherby makes an amused noise, in the background by the tree.
Sarah pats Pat's hand.
Daimon grins. "I think Hitherby disagrees on that assessment just a TAD. But man, I've been
doing it for years, and you know, it's a creative outlet."
Hitherby says, mildly, "I do not disagree, Daimon. You have a soul; ergo, you are enlightened.
It's just a matter of what gets piled on top of it sometimes."
Sarah licks melted chocolate from her fingers, and carefully does not laugh.
Daimon suspects angst.
Daimon says "All sorts of fun stuff."
The man says, "I need a guitarist, man."
Daimon holds up the flute. "I am currently a flautist."
He waves his diminishing joint. "So I can get you a guitar."
Daimon says "So I need a guitar to be a guitarist. It's part of the requirements."
Hitherby nibbles gently on her own chocolate. If it gets all over her legs, well, er, hopefully the
Great One won't make her wash it up before dinner.
Daimon thinks yes, to play guitar, FIRST, you need a guitar.
He leans back. "I need everyone in the entire world to make music, man. I need them to do stuff.
I need everyone to be doing. I need you to play guitar for me, baby."
Daimon says "Stuff is cool."
He says, "Yeah."
He says, "There's a guitar under my bed."
Daimon says "So where's your bed, man?"
Daimon waves his arms around. "We're standin' on a street corner."
He says, cunningly, "In my room. And there's Stuff on it."
Daimon says "Woah. Stuff. Is it cool stuff?"
He says, "I dunno. I have this sneaky feeling the bastards have stolen my best legos."
<
Daimon says "Dude. Those bastards! Cool legos are a total find."
Hitherby looks innocent as only a Servitor of Animals can when such accusations are levied.
<
<
Sarah turns her head into Pat's shoulder, muffling undignified giggles.
Pat hugs Sarah and looks at the Guy very carefully.
He says, "Oh, yeah. And the red roof bits are the top E of the lego world. Yeah."
Daimon says "You, man, were robbed. Totally. You need your red roof bits."
Daimon says this as one Lego Connoisseur to another.
He taps his nose cunningly. "It's all right. I know where the bastards took them. I will creep in by
night and ... " he pauses to think.
Daimon says "Force them to listen to Elvis Costello until they relent and give them back?"
Daimon is helpful.
He blinks. "Man, that is _cruel_. I don't want to be cruel. Maybe Bing Crosby."
Daimon says "Maybe some old Sinatra. 'Sing to me, Frankie Boy!'"
He looks thoughtful. "Yeah. Might work. So that's the guitar. And the lego bits. And the
high-tops that some kid left there the other day. And, yeah, these socks. I have socks."
Daimon lifts an eyebrow. "Tell me about the socks, man."
He waggles his feet in the air. He does have socks. They are entirely different. "Man, I have socks
that crawl into the dark and breed. And they do it in plaid."
Daimon says "You should either leave out food or traps. I would vote for food, myself. Socks
might get hungry in the night, and you don't want them eating each other. Sock cannibalism.
Eeeech."
Hitherby says, seriously, "It is the way of the wild."
He says, "Yeah. I mean, man, the strong survive, right? And they get more colours when they eat
the others. I remember one sock with sixty-three stripes on it."
Daimon says "WOAH. And I bet you only had one."
He says, sombrely, "There Can Be Only One."
Daimon looks extremely impressed. He says so. "I am extremely impressed. Your tale of socks
has touched me deeply."
The man says, "Hey, if you join my jazz group, you get a sock of your own. Then they can have
babies."
Daimon contemplates this deeply. "When does your jazz group meet?"
He says, "Whenever they feel like making music, man."
Daimon says "All the time?"
He shrugs. "Kind of. You know, there's always someone on the backbeat. Like, you know."
Daimon says "Huh. Cool. What if you have a job to do, though?"
He finds another joint, and lights it from the remnants of his current one. "Well, hey, most of them
get jobs with other people, but that's cool, if that's what they want. As long as they can still be
cool."
<
Pat is not quite staring. Yet.
Pat . o O ( I left my notepad at home. )
Daimon lifts an eyebrow. "So they do jobs with other people and play when they can?"
The man says, "Yeah. And sometimes - just sometimes - they play jazz with other people
too."
Daimon waves a hand. "As much as I'd like to, I can't just play right now. We're up to our knees
in all sorts of bad shit."
He sits up, and proclaims, "Jazz Must Be Shared!"
Daimon blinks.
Daimon says "Yeah, it should."
Daimon hmmms All Along the Watchtower.
Sarah strokes Pat's hair, smiling.
Pat looks at Sarah, whispering "How long have you known?"
Hitherby reflects, "Sometimes the music is more important than the muck." But she does it softly,
because she figures the ragged guy knows what he's doing.
Daimon is obviously trying to reconcile playing Jazz with say, finding out why some servitor of
Stone is dead.
The man flops back, limply. "Hey. You know, I had this kid who wanted to be a nurse by day and
a pearl-diver by night."
Sarah whispers back to Pat, "Since just before you got to Sistine's, dear. Hoped, at least, not
known."
Daimon flops down on the grass next to the man. "Yeah? How did he accomplish this?"
The man says, "The thing that is Cool is the thing that needs doing."
The man says, "He did what Needed doing, and therefore he was Cool."
Pat nods to Sarah and kisses her lightly.
Daimon says "So what Needed to be done?"
The man says, "Do you know what Needs to be done?"
Daimon says "Right now? In the big picture? You betcha."
The man says, "Well, then. You are Cool."
Daimon says "HOW to do it is another question entirely, but I'm patient enough, mostly."
The man takes a lungful of smoke. "The kid found a pearl island that needed a nurse. He was
Cool."
Daimon says "Wow. Lucky him. Most people are happy if they survive 9 to 5, ya know?"
The man says, "I need a musician who wants to save the world. And if he does good comedy, hey,
that's the icing on the whipped cappucino."
Daimon sings, "Well, they'll stone ya when you're trying to be so good, / They'll stone ya just
a-like they said they would. / They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home. / Then they'll stone
ya when you're there all alone. / But I would not feel so all alone, / Everybody must get
stoned."
Daimon says "I know of a musician who does good comedy, who has passing interest in saving
the world, or at least a certain part of it."
<
The man wriggles to look at Daimon. "You do?"
Daimon says "Yeah."
The man says, "Join my jazz band. You get to play harmony, and I give you a sock."
<
Daimon says "Bass? I get to play Bass?"
Daimon says "I nice Washburn Acoustic?"
He ponders, then says, "Yeah."
Daimon says "Just the guitar for you if there's a nuclear attack and there's no electricity. A
Washburn Acoustic. Totally true."
He says, "Okay. You get to play Bass. And you get a sock."
Daimon lays back on the grass. "Cool."
He says, warningly, "But you gotta audition first."
Daimon looks over, and blinks at the man. "I still don't know who you are, man. It'll be a mystery
sock."
Daimon mmmms. "I need more hashish in my system to get up the nerve to do auditions."
The man says, "Oh, hey, you can read the nametag."
The man lights another joint, and passes it across.
<
<
Daimon feels like he's gonna fall asleep, with all the pot in his system. He takes the joint, and
sucks in the pot anyway.
Daimon looks over and peers, looking for a nametag.
The man waves a hand. "Uh-uh. Socks later. Audition first."
Daimon says "On the flute?"
Daimon reaches around for the flute.
He says, "Nahh. Bass."
Daimon says "You said you had no guitars, man. That's why I was ruining my lower lip
earlier."
He looks cunning. "Ah, but I can _get_ guitars."
Pat says "The restaurant."
Daimon says "Ah ha! The mystery is revealed!"
Daimon says "Enlightenment is mine."
Daimon is STILL looking for said nametag, while taking another toke. *ffffffffft*
Sarah asks Pat, quietly, "The restaurant?"
Daimon not only has no clue, but is completely stoned.
Pat nods. "An open stage, and the crowd should be gone."
He says, "Yeah. Sistine's. Or I can go up and *fetch* my guitar. Yeah."
Daimon says "We can make it to the resturant, I think."
Daimon says "Someone's gonna haveta get me offa the grass."
He sits bolt upright, and points a finger at Pat. "Yes! We shall do it on the stage!"
Daimon says "Both meanings."
With astonishing coordination, and nearly grace, he reaches down to offer a hand to Daimon. It
waggles.
Pat meet the guy's eyes for a moment, nodding.
Daimon grabs the hand, and allows himself hauled to hsi feet.
Hitherby picks up her chocolate and rises into a swarm.
Sarah starts to sit up, then defers to the closer man.
Hitherby positions the chocolate at the center of the swarm like a heart.
The guy smiles blissfully at Pat, as he drags Daimon upright. "We Shall Have Jazz."
Daimon, utterly stoned, says "Indeed."
<
Pat stands up, carefully, and offers his hand to Sarah.
<
<
<
<
<
<
<
The Mysterious Guy staggers towards Sistine's, Daimon in tow.
<
Daimon follows, chattering onward about music and socks and legos and chicks and his cool
friend Pat...
Pat is cool! Yes!
Daimon gets chatty and the munchies while really stoned.
Sarah takes Pat's hand, mastering her giggles enough to stand with reasonable grace. Maybe
marijuana is transmittable via Cherub-resonance.
Hitherby swarms after the group.
Pat walks a few paces behind the guys, holding Sarah's hand and smiling at her with mild
bemusement from time to time.
Everyone eventually stumbles into Sistine's. It is still open, though now nearly empty. The stage
is bare and inviting.
The Mysterious Guy yells, "Marath! Guitars!"
Daimon wanders in, and demands Doritos.
Daimon says "I must have a Taste of the Border!"
Pat swings by the bar and collects many Bar Munchies. Including Doritos.
Daimon divebombs the Doritos, takes the bowl from Pat, and munches.
Sarah is somewhat bemused herself. But quite definitely amused.
Marath, her usual pudgy Italian stuff, emerges from the kitchen, wringing her hands. "Which
guitar, honey?"
Pat smiles. "Play your best, Daimon." He hugs the other man.
Daimon says "The white Fender Bass with the pearl pickguard."
Daimon is starting to wondering where his sanity went.
Daimon says "And a shot of whiskey."
Marath vanishes back into the kitchen. When she emerges, she is carrying a white Fender Bass,
though it does not have a pearl pickguard.
Sarah glances at Pat.
Daimon says "Good 'nuff."
The guy wanders behind the bar, and pours several shots of whiskey. He whizzes one down the
bar in Daimon's direction.
Sarah hugs Daimon between Pat and guitar, then retreats to Pat.
Hitherby settles down on a table near the stage with her chocolate.
Pat retreats to a chair near the stage, arranging a chair for Sarah.
Sarah murmurs to said Elohite, "'Honey.' Is this why you said this might not be appropriate,
earlier?"
Daimon takes the shot, and downs it. He gets pushed around by hugging, but he's trying to make
his brain nice and mooshy.
He then roots beneath the bar, and emerges brandishing a guitar of his own, somewhat like the
bartender in a Western with a shotgun.
Pat nods to Sarah, gesturing subtly at the Guy. "It's his."
Daimon says "Now we need to teach one of the Kyrios how to play drums, and we can be Green
Day."
<
Sarah sits beside Pat, and does not *quite* dissolve into laughter. "Does Liz know?"
<
Pat nods. "She told me."
The guy says, "You gotta audition first." He saunters for the stage. "I remember this time I said
to Mike, I said, "Mike, listen, when I said axe, I didn't mean...""
Daimon trots over to the stage, four magical strings on maple in tow, and climbs up to jack into
the large amp.
The guy perches on the edge of the stage, and begins to tune his own instrument up.
Daimon spends much time on the Zen ritual - messing with the dials for proper balanced tone
(unlike SOMEONE's Fender Reverb, ahem), tuning the instrument, doing fingerpicking
warmups.
This place has _good_ acoustics. Pick. Tannnnnng.
Daimon digs the acoustics, as the whiskey hits his brain like a freighttrain.
Daimon is now properly stoned and drunk and mellow.
Pat lights a cigarette, since a properly smoky atmosphere is essential to Jazz, and relaxes.
The guy says, "You wanna start, or shall I?"
Daimon says "I'll start."
Daimon picks out a decent opening bassline.
The guy works on picking riffs round it, working with Daimon.
Hitherby drifts off the chocolate and lines up on a table to listen. If this works out, it might be a
lesson in how to produce harmony that even a Kyriotate can learn from.
Daimon goes for something with complex undertones, but is easy to jam with. He's been playing
Jazz for years and years, so he knows what to go with. Flow with the music, let the others into
your rhythm.
Sarah comes as close to curling up against Pat's side contentedly again as the chairs will allow.
T-shirt and all.
Daimon lets his long hair, getting sweaty now, hang into his face. He spreads his legs in proper
Bassist form.
Pat slides his free hand around Sarah's shoulder, warmly, as he listens.
The guy's harmonies get more complex, as though he's building a net for Daimon's melody line
to slide through, a framework for it to shine in.
Daimon dives right for it, loving every moment of becoming one with the Bass.
As the music grows, it expands. You could believe there are other instruments behind, drums,
flutes, penny-whistle, even electric violin. It's not quite in earshot, but you can hear the echoes of
it through the guy's guitar harmony.
Daimon chalks it up to waaaaaay too much in the way of minor narcotics in his system, and keeps
playing.
There's the sense of it, almost there, not quite, but almost, like the precise moment of dawn or
orgasm. You can't _quite_ hear it, but almost, nearly, nearly.
The guy ups the pace of his guitar, fingers moving on the strings like the wind.
Daimon decides to try to get his bass line to mesh with the harmony from the guy's guitar.
Sarah closes her eyes, shifting her shoulders in lieu of wings, and leans her cheek against Pat's
hand.
You're closer to the harmony now, nearly meshing, but it's harder. Daimon's body is pouring with
sweat, his fingers aching with the effort. There's the sudden perception that you'd have to be part
of the harmony, and actually listen to it fully to jam with it. No longer the entirely alone soloist,
single music from the stage, but part of the whole thing, harmony, hotter, higher.
Daimon decides to do this thing, to the best of his ability.
You must be forgetting to breathe, or something, because your muscles are burning, and there are
little red sparks behind your eyes, but you're nearly there. The harmony's hotting up, and you're
_exactly_ on the beat, _exactly_ in the chord.
And for a moment there is that perfect sensation of hitting the note precisely on the time, at the
time, till it's a vital part of the whole harmony and every part is vital, and it is *right*.
Daimon closes his eyes and thinks, hey, if I collapse, it was fun, man.
And for a long moment the jamming goes on, with tone, with movement, in the bright haze of
perfect music.
Daimon digs the bright haze of perfect music.
Finally, it fades away, but you can still half feel, half hear that backbeat and that harmony.
Something in your soul tells you there's a place in an Immortal Jazz Club, saved for you.
Daimon pulls off some sort of finish on the Bass, and stands there, panting, sweating heavily.
The guy puts down his own guitar, and applauds.
Pat just smiles.
Daimon says "That was the single weirdest thing I have ever experienced. Short of the time with
the three girls in the bath tub in Santa Barbara. That was some most excellent pot."
Daimon says "Woo, geez."
Sarah joins in applause. Without needing to open her eyes.
Hitherby paces on her table, in front of her chocolate.
He wags a finger at Daimon. "I know the lady who grows it."
Daimon wipes the sweat off his brow. "I haven't played that hard in years."
The guy says, "You are now One of my Musicians. You got that?"
Daimon says "Give her my regards, my man. It's some good shit. I thought I was hallucinating or
something."
He grins.
Daimon says "Cool. I pass. Do I get an official t-shirt or something?"
He says, "Sure. And a sock."
Daimon checks his hands to see how bloody they got. Fingerpicking, you know. You always
fingerpick a bass.
Daimon says "That's right. And a sock."
Strangely, Daimon's hands are not at all bloody.
He frowns. "What do you want on the t-shirt, kid?"
Sarah stifles another laugh, dropping her face into her hands.
Daimon says "Weird. My callouses must be stronger then normal."
Daimon says "Er, well, I already have HUG JUSTICE and LIGHTNING JUSTICE, from earlier
today. Those are jokes, we were busy being Funny."
Daimon says "Ah, hmm. Dunno."
Daimon yanks the chord out of the Bass, and with it still hanging off his body, he goes and plunks
over next to the guy.
Daimon says "Funniness. Hmmm."
He thinks. "How about you give me a call when you work out what you want on it, and I give you
the sock now?"
Daimon says "I don't even know your NAME, let alone your phone number.,"
He says, "There's a name tag in the sock."
Daimon says "AH ha! That is where the name tag is!"
Daimon says "Secrets are revealed!"
He says, "Enlightened one! It is so!"
Daimon leans down, and plucks half the intro bassline to Fade to Black.
He puts the guitar down, and hops up. "Okay! Who wants to come and see the Man get the
Sock!"
Daimon says "Enlightenment is cool. Especially when yer stoned."
Pat looks at the Guy. "Up in your room?"
Sarah manages to lift her head again, to glance at Pat. "We should," she observes, smiling.
Daimon is quickly coming to the conclusion that this is the single most bizarre day of his life. But
all days are bizarre when they are started with calls from Terry. He makes a mental postit to just
not take those anymore.
Hitherby hums, quietly, "How could one refuse?"
He grins at Pat. "Yup. And if you're very good, I'll give you a pistol for your collection. It goes
pop and shoots water."
Hitherby rises up into the air.
Pat smiles. "I'm /so/ there."
Pat stands, bringing Sarah with him.
Hitherby looks reluctantly at the chocolate, and then leaves it for some patron to enjoy
tomorrow.
Daimon blinks.
He says, "Oooookay."
Daimon says "Uh, what is going on?"
Daimon untangles himself from the Bass, and lays it on the stage.
The guy points towards the kitchen door. "Through there and up the stairs! Further in and higher
up!"
Pat says "The presentation of the Sock. It's a very important moment in a musician's life."
Daimon says "It is?"
Pat nods solemnly.
Daimon says "I thought that was a Grammy or something..."
Daimon says "Oh well, you guys seem to have the Clue."
He says, "Believe me, man, I don't sock just anyone."
Daimon hops off the stage, and wipes more sweat off of his brow. He's pretty stinky.
He wanders cheerfully across the room, and opens the kitchen door, heading through.
Pat tosses Daimon a towel, before following the Guy.
Daimon wipes himself down, and follows, sort of wavering back and forth.
Hitherby assumes the insect-patterns, carefully, for, "Was," "it," "a," "true," and "choice." She
leaks no emotion even in her positioning, although she does try and do it before he turns
away.
Sarah lingers to steady Daimon, smiling.
Daimon says "I think I've killed off most of my favorite braincells tonight."
There is a distant call of, "And chocolate for the buggies!"
Hitherby then follows.
Pat tries to get the Guy alone for just a moment.
The Guy can be caught in the kitchen, where Marath is stirring pots and smirking. He's about to
head up the stairs at the far end.
Sarah consoles Daimon, "I'm sure they'll forgive you in a few days."
Pat catches the Guy then, and simply says "Thank you.
Daimon looks at Sarah. "Not if they're DEAD." Then, thinking what the hell, he leans over and
kisses her. Fully. On the mouth. Mmmmm... Cherub.
The guy beams, in a still stoned manner. "No problem. I Need him."
Pat says "We Need him."
Pat smiles.
Sarah puts arms around Daimon and returns said kiss. Devotedly.
The guy says, "I Need everyone." He grins some more, and begins to head up the stairs.
Pat follows.
Daimon lets this linger for a while, because Sarah is a babe and well. You know.
Sarah is, indeed, a babe wearing a T-shirt of Daimon's own inspiration.
Sarah does eventually note, "We should go upstairs. There's a Sock waiting."
Hitherby follows the Guy.
Daimon says "Oh yeah."
Daimon lets Sarah drag him along.
Sarah does not drag, quite, but does a lot of steadying.
The stairs seem to go up quite a way, though they are nice gentle stairs. There is even a soft light
from the walls as you begin to get higher. It's weird.
Daimon thinks that his pot has been laced with acid.
Daimon shares this with Sarah. "There was acid in my pot."
Hitherby climbs the stairs as if she had wings.
Pat climbs, his posture straightening from the habitual semi-slouch, his movements becoming
more fluid, measured.
Sarah agrees, "Entirely possible. But I'm sure it was very good quality."
Indeed, Sarah is starting to look like a winged lion, while Hitherby looks like a mass of wings and
mouths and eyes, and Pat looks all bald and space-alien-like.
Daimon says "Damn straight it was good quality."
The Guy himself is just the same, except that he has fluffy white wings.
Daimon stops and looks at people.
Sarah purrs.
Daimon just stops and looks.
Daimon is not his usual green self, but is pale, in a neat black suit, though he has wings too. They
are an attractive rainbow shade that might, in certain lights, look tie-dyed.
<
<
Daimon looks at his hands. "Okay, how did I end up celestial? I'm not even again a disturbing
shade of green. It's not even an attractive shade of green."
The Guy turns to look back. "It's very attractive. I love the way it goes with your eyes."
Daimon looks at the left breast pocket of the suit, which should still bear the embroidered
Kobalite insignia.
Sarah purrs, and nudges her head against Daimon's hand, gentle. "I like it."
Mazpatiel turns, looking at Daimon. It smiles, gently. "Nice tie."
Daimon checks out the tie.
Daimon says "Okay, this is getting freaky. Really freaky."
The left breast pocket does, indeed, still have the embroidered Kobalite Insignia. The tie is a fish
tie.
Daimon is happy to still be himself. Mostly.
Hitherby bobs downwards towards the stairs, slightly.
And the wings really do look tie-dyed.
Daimon is trying to figure out WHERE THE HELL THE WINGS CAME FROM.
Daimon points to the wings. "THESE were not here last week, lemme tell you."
The Guy says, cheerfully, "Socks!" He opens a door off the landing he's on, and vanishes inside.
The door remains open.
Daimon says "The entire universe is taking a nose dive to something between the Twilight Zone,
a Bad Trip, and Sesame Street."
Mazpatiel walks up to the door, but it does not enter. It waits. It watches.
Sarah suggests, "Perhaps a nose climb."
Daimon throws up his/her hands. Musta passed out somewhere along the way. This is all too
weird for reality.
Hitherby says, softly, her voice the multilayered sound of a Kyriotate and, this time, with multiple
layers of emotion as well, "I'm sorry, Daimon."
Hitherby proceeds through the door.
Daimon says "Sorry because I got my hands on some really potent acid?"
Daimon says "I mean, the walls are wavering and everything."
Daimon trudges up the stairs, probably rattling from geasa, and goes through the door.
Sarah paces after him, and pauses to purr at Mazpatiel.
Inside is the most crowded bedroom imaginable. _Stuff_ is piled everywhere, especially on the
bed. The Guy is hunting round, poking through a pile of black robes hopefully.
Mazpatiel smiles at Chephirah and smooths her fur before it follows through the door.
The Guy mutters, "They always get the laundry addresses wrong. All I can say is, I hope Dom
likes Hawaian shirts."
Mazpatiel blinks.
Daimon says "Man, do you have STUFF."
Daimon goes poking through the pile of comic books.
The Guy says, "Yup!"
Mazpatiel looks for windows.
Daimon says "What, do you have _everything_ by Neil Gaiman?"
There's the limited X-spin-off with the Bamf doll. There's collected volumes of Sandman. There's
a first edition Eagle.
Daimon is mega impressed.
There are, indeed, windows. There is just Stuff piled in front of them on the floor.
Daimon says "Your comic collection kicks ass. Back home, we can only get about half of this
stuff."
Chephirah does not laugh. She stations herself carefully by the door, not letting herself kick over
any piles.
The Guy says, "Hey, I have contacts in the trading biz."
Mazpatiel very carefully starts moving Stuff, so that it may look out the window.
Daimon says "Amazingly amazing."
Daimon is just checking out stuff.
<
Daimon says "You have all the Spawn action figures, man. Even the rare ones."
<
Out of the window can be seen a large building below, with artistic turrets and beautiful design.
Further, beyond, is a large Hall that is humming with scientific progress, even from this
distance.
Hitherby looks around the room, a little lost. It's not that it's not very Fine Stuff, but it's very
unSavannah.
Daimon pads over to Pat-who-has-become-some-weird-acid-dream-figure, and looks out the
window.
The Guy finds an ant caught in a tiny globe of amber, and offers it to Hitherby. "Do you know
how long this guy's been here? A million years."
Daimon says "Um."
Mazpatiel spends a few moments frozen in place, looking for all the world like a marble statue
with amethyst eyes locked onto the vista presented.
Daimon says "Um, Pat?"
Mazpatiel says nothing. Its eyes shine.
Daimon says "Now, I might be hallucinating wildly, but that's not nighttime in DC out there."
Chephirah purrs softly, contentedly.
Daimon says "I have been known to hallucinate though."
Hitherby extends an eye to examine the ant.
The Guy says to Hitherby, "When the humans have been round that long... you'll have been
around longer."
The Guy offers the globe to Hitherby, then bends to hunt among the Stuff again.
Daimon tentatively reaches up to feel around for a pair of stubby little horns, which should be
sitting at the green hairline, wearing little silver cuffs.
Hitherby takes the globe and asks it, "Are you enjoying being ornamental or is your spirit at the
Savannah?"
The horns do not appear to be on Daimon's head.
Daimon says "Ah ha."
Daimon finds someplace to sit down in a heap.
The globe makes no reply to Hitherby, suggesting that its spirit is indeed at the Savannah.
Daimon sits down among the Stuff.
The Guy finds a multi-coloured sock that looks like an explosion in a fireworks factory. He tosses
it to Daimon.
Daimon catches the sock. "I seem to be missing my horns."
Daimon says "Not that they were anything special, but they are usually found on my
forehead."
Chephirah folds her wings a little tighter, tail twitching at the tip, and continues to purr.
Daimon looks over the sock.
The sock is a lovely sock. It doesn't even smell.
Mazpatiel's eyes close, and it lowers its head for a long moment before turning once more to face
the room.
Daimon works off a leather shoe, and a nylon trouser sock, and replaces it with The Sock.
Hitherby says, softly, "Tell me it was a true choice, Daimon. Please."
Daimon says "Prank ain't gonna work anymore, is it."
The nametag inside the sock said "ELI".
Daimon says "Oooooooooooooh boy."
Daimon thinks this over.
Daimon says "The Boss is gonna not be happy."
Eli topples a pile of books, and mutters, then says more distinctly, "Remember what I said about
working for other people, kid? That applies."
Eli says, "As long as you're cool, and do what Needs to be done, it's okay with me."
Hitherby studies the ant.
Chephirah's ears flatten back, then prick almost painfully far forward. She stares at Eli.
Hitherby wonders if William likes amber.
Eli reaches across and scritches Chephirah's forehead.
Daimon says "Oh okay then. Cool. So do I bind or something? Or has that already
happened?"
Daimon waves a hand in a 'I'll work it out later' gesture.
Eli says, "Well, there ain't no binding up here, kid."
Daimon says "No binding?"
Hitherby could brain a demon with it if she wanted to be able to summon David. Hm.
Eli says, "Nope."
Daimon says "I mean, no big 'I swear my nature to you forever' thing?"
Eli says, "Naah. You just work for someone cause, you know, you want to."
Daimon says "No contracts? You just do it... because it Needs to be done?"
<
Chephirah purrs at the scritching. If startledly.
Eli nods. "_Exactly_."
<
Daimon says "Woah. How fucking COOL is that."
<
Hitherby carefully sets the amber down somewhere where the contrast is interesting.
Eli says, "It's how it is here, kid."
Daimon boggles. "Man. How totally cool."
Eli continues to rootle among his belongings.
Daimon, in the cool room full of Stuff, picks around through the piles of books, comic books,
computer games, action figures, CDs, electronic toys, matchbox cars, stuffed animals and
legos.
Mazpatiel turns to look back out the window.
Daimon sucks it up and asks the big question. "So how do I work?"
Daimonique says "Everyone else changes. What's the big change?"
Eli says, from half under the bed, "Hey, you've been changing a while, kid. You just decided to
jam with the Symphony."
Daimonique tries to find out if you can thwack people with tie-dyed auras. She attempts this.
The aura does not thwack. One's hand can thwack, however.
Daimonique says "But, assuming this isn't an acid induced dream where I'm really walking through
downtown DC in my underwear, how do I work? Do I still bind people to geasa? Do I still do my
normal stuff? Do I Prank?"
Daimonique is not overly disappointed that the aura isn't solid. That way Pat doesn't get
interrupted from staring out the window.
Hitherby pokes her eyes at the amber, attempting to figure out whether she is meant to keep it or
not. Not like Eli would *care*, but it would still be rude to guess wrong. And he said by the tree
that he would give her something.
Eli pulls himself out, hauling a guitar and a plastic pistol. "Well, kid, you can still Geas, see the
needs, all that sort of thing. You can't Prank, but I can fix it so you can do something else. And,
like, you do what Needs doing."
Hitherby finally sidles innocently away from the amber and hovers near Daimon. Maybe if she acts
real innocuous she can get out of here without moral crises.
Daimonique considers not being able to Prank. "Weeelll, um... hey, cool guitar."
Hitherby blinkblinks at Eli cutely and wibbles her wings.
Daimonique is currently easily distracted.
Eli smiles at the blinking Domination. "Whatsa problem, Oboth?"
Mazpatiel tries to find the Spires in its view out the window.
Daimonique is permanently free of some of the more stickier moral crisis.
Daimonique checks out the Sock.
Pretty much all of Heaven can be viewed from the window. The Spires rise golden in the
distance.
Mazpatiel looks as wistful as an Elohite can.
Eli says, "And hey, Mazpatiel, if you want to take Daimon for a walk in a moment, show him
round, let him see the Spires, that's neat."
Daimonique says "This is all very weird."
Eli says, "It's Heaven, kid."
Hitherby considers this, and finally tells Eli, "I am on uncertain footing. This is as much beyond
my experience as Jean's laboratory would be, even if you are closer to my Superior than Jean.
However, I suspect Daimon is even more confused, so it is probably best if I just hover here."
Daimonique says "It doesn't change it's inherent weirdness."
Hitherby adds, "Blinking cutely in my indomitable Kyriotate fashion."
Mazpatiel turns, looking at Eli.
Eli says, "Rarely have I seen a Kyriotate hover more cutely or beautifully, bugsie baby."
Daimonique wanders around the room, looking distracted.
Hitherby bobs, flattered.
Daimonique says "So what replaces Prank? Nuthin? Nuthin is cool, in it's own way. Nothingness
is very zen."
Daimonique says "I'm just curious. And stoned. Both. At the same time."
Eli says, "No, no. Zen is when I hit you over the head with a wooden stick and you achieve
enlightenment, or something."
Daimonique is still amazed at the comic book collection.
Eli says, "And I left my wooden stick in my other coat."
Daimonique says "I found a water noodle in the corner, though."
Eli offers Mazpatiel the plastic Glock Remington, which is currently full up on water, and heads
across to Daimonique.
Daimonique says "It has the head of a horsie on it. Cool."
Daimonique looks at the crates of Legos.
Eli taps Daimonique on the forehead where the horns used to be. He says, "Ping. Pong."
Daimonique says "Yeah, weird. I noticed they were missing."
Mazpatiel takes the pistol, turning it over in its hands and looking at it.
You paged Daimonique with 'You just got the Abracadabra, and the Seraph of Eli attunements.
Though given your current mental state, it may not penetrate.'.
Eli says, "You gotta suffer to be beautiful, kid."
Daimonique pages: Cool beans. I need to edit Mr. Character Sheet.
Daimonique says "Yeah, I know. Only through some suffering does true art emerge."
Hitherby says, softly, "It is one route."
Eli says, "Okay, so we've done the suffering. Now we get to do the art."
Daimonique says "Cool. Good to get it out of the way."
Eli says, "Uh huh."
Eli says, "So, you're in Heaven. Whatcha wanna do?"
Daimonique grins, laughs, and says, "GO TO DISNEYLAND!"
Eli says, "You mean like in the tech toys, or the big party, or the candyfloss, or which?"
Daimonique says "I have no idea. I don't even know what's up here. It's all very, I dunno.
Something. Something that I dunno yet."
Hitherby offers, "We have dinosaurs."
Daimonique raises an eyebrow. "How come I feel like I've just set one foot on the road to an
existence filled with questions, some of which may not have answers?"
Eli says, "Kid, you have just stated the background of most major religions."
Daimonique says, in a very vague tone, "I have a small story, which pretty much describes where
I want to go next."
Eli flops on a spare part of bed. "Sure. Tell me the story."
Daimonique says "Okay, zen story. 'When Banzan was walking through a market he overheard
a conversation between a butcher and his customer. 'Give me the best piece of meat you have,"
said the customer. 'Everything in my shop is the best,' replied the butcher. "You cannot find here
any piece of meat that is not the best.' And Banzan was *poof* enlightened.'"
Daimonique says "That's the whole story."
Eli says, "Hm."
Daimonique says "Deep, huh."
Eli says, "Yup."
Daimonique says "I'm not real good at Zen, though."
Eli says, "There was this artist, who was a calligrapher, and he was doing signatures."
Eli says, "And his student was watching him, and every time he did one, the student pointed out
a flaw in it."
Eli says, "Then the student went out of the room to get some tea, and the artist quickly painted
his signature."
Eli says, "And the student came back in, and said, "Master, that is incredible! It is perfect!"
Hitherby glances at Chephirah, sure she must be in -- er, oh, wait, we already knew that.
Chephirah purrs, faintly.
Daimonique blinks.
Eli says, "Okay. So every place in here is the best."
Eli says, "But some places do better coffee than others."
Daimonique shrugs. "I still think I'm tripping. I would say, I want to see all of it, but I'll head for
those who do better coffee."
Hitherby suggests, "The Lady of Flowers?"
Daimonique grins. "You know when you go to college as a freshman, they give you these little
maps that show you where all the buildings are at...."
Daimonique says "You can always spot the froshling because they have the maps taped to a
folder."
Eli says, "Hm." He sorts through a stack of comics, and produces one with the title SO YOU'RE
NEW TO HEAVEN AND DON'T KNOW WHERE TO GET COFFEE.
Eli offers the comic to Daimonique.
Daimonique takes the comic and flips through it.
Mazpatiel squints at the comic.
Daimonique says "Cool."
The comic has a vague map of the major areas of Heaven, each marked with a name and an
Archangel.
Daimonique looks at it oddly. "Where are the checkpoints?"
Mazpatiel says "Checkpoints?"
Eli says, "If you mean guards, kid, there are guards on a few places, but they're just going to ask
your name, then say yes you can come in or no you can't."
Daimonique says "You know, the points you have to pass through with a pass to get between
Principalities."
Mazpatiel says "Heaven has no Principalities."
Eli says, "No Principalities here, kid. Cause there's no Princes."
Hitherby floats over near Eli, and makes a quiet gesture with a hand towards a corner of the
room. "Extremely Remarkable One, when you have a moment?" she murmurs.
Daimonique says "There aren't any walls or rivers or anything."
Eli says, "For you, Oboth, always. Lay it on me."
Mazpatiel says "Well. There are the border walls."
Daimonique looks vaguely baffled by the entire concept of being able to go wherever you
want.
Mazpatiel looks at Daimonique, tilting its head. "Come here, for a moment. Come and see."
Daimonique says "You mean, if I wanted to walk from here to, say, over... um.... here... then I
can just walk?"
Eli says, "Yeah."
Daimonique walks over the STUFF to get to stand next to Pat.
Hitherby says, quietly, "I think it would be a wonderful gesture if you were to give Zebina an, er,
dramatically not-matching sock -- as well. So that she can be a part of this moment, which she
worked pretty hard for, and so they can be twins."
Eli says, solemnly, "I'll see to it."
Daimonique is indeed wearing the Sock. On the left foot.
Hitherby beams.
Daimonique doesn't want to know what it does, other then keep toes warm and toasty and look
fashionably swanky.
Hitherby starts to drift away, and then nibbles on a finger for a moment. "Um, I was confused
about your intentions with the ant, and I think it'd be rude to get them wrong." She blushes and
covers her eyes with her wings.
Mazpatiel lifts a hand, turning to the window and pointing out landmarks. "Look closely. They
go where they wish, constrained only by their duties." It makes a point of indicating a flight of
Seraphim, sinuous forms gliding through the air.
Daimonique peers out the window.
Daimonique says "I feel like a refugee from Cold War Kiev standing in Disneyland."
Eli says, cheerfully, "The ant's a present, kid. If you don't like it, no worries. I just thought, hey,
you might want to see a million-year-old testimonial to the fact that Ants Are Still Around."
Mazpatiel says "It may well be an apt analogy."
Daimonique says, offhand, "Hitherby tells many deep stories, some of which involve ants."
Hitherby beams. "Okay, cool."
Hitherby flitters over to the ant and picks it back up.
Daimonique peers. "There are no walls, no barbed wire, no patrols of guards, no streetwalkers.
And everything is _clean_."
Hitherby says, "I just translate them, really."
Mazpatiel nods. "Just so. Would you like to see more of it?"
Eli says, "And you do a very good job, kid."
Hitherby bobs, pleased. Heaven is getting to her.
Daimonique stares out the window, boggled, like a kid from a 3rd world country standing in Toys
R Us.
Daimonique finally says, "This doesn't look like anything I had heard."
Hitherby wings over by Daimon, and says, "Beauty can also be a gift, as well as something that
comes from suffering."
Hitherby waves a hand out the window. "This is the sum of many gifts."
Daimonique says "I mean, heck, I'd heard alot of things. None of it was this at all."
Eli says, putting his feet up, "Yeah, well, not everyone gets a sock from me."
Daimonique says "And it is a most wonderful, stripy sock."
Daimonique says "It even keeps my toes warm."
Eli says, proudly, "Form _and_ function."
Daimonique says "And classy!"
Daimonique pulls up the left trouser leg of the black suit, and checks out the Sock again. For it
is a marvelous Sock of great sockness.
Daimonique says "So what now?"
Daimonique has in hand, still, the great Map of Power.
Mazpatiel says "What do you want, now"
Eli says, "Well, see, I figure you have to be back by dawn. That's still a while."
Eli says, "So, like, Heaven is your oyster."
Daimonique says "Is it all gooey?"
Eli says, "Naah. It's just a figure of speech."
Daimonique says "Okay. Well, I vote for the fun bits."
Mazpatiel says "There is something that should be done, first/"
Eli says, "Oh, yeah. You want to head for the Spires and talk to Dominic about it?"
Daimonique is starting to wish for more pot. :)
Daimonique says "I'm starting to become dangerously sober."
Mazpatiel nods to Eli. "Is there something you wish him to be told?"
Eli says, "Naah. Just do the report thing. I've got to sort out some other stuff."
Mazpatiel nods. "Very well. I suppose you're still not willing to answer, then?"
Daimonique ponders this. "Soon, I'll be able to remember my name, the 14th President, and be
able to count up past seven. A dangerous state to be in."
Eli says, innocently, "Answer which question?"
Mazpatiel says "Why you have absented yourself."
Daimonique waves his arms around. "To be one with the world!"
Eli smiles vaguely. "Yeah. The kid's got it."
Daimonique says "There's all sorts of stuff going on. It would suck to miss it."
Eli says, "Now shoo, kids, or you'll miss all the fun."
Mazpatiel nods.
Daimonique peers at Pat. "You know what I think? I think they have a bunch of Elohim captured
at Area 51, spray painted green and in tubes full of snot."
Mazpatiel blinks at Daimonique. "I don't believe that's the case."
Daimonique says "No?"
Eli says, "Nope, we haven't got that. We've got nearly everything else, though."
Daimonique says "Man, no big tubes full of snot."
Eli says, "You want big tubes full of snot?"
Daimonique says "Nope. Where would I put 'em?"
Mazpatiel, remembering something, inquires of Eli. "Her heart?"
Eli says, "True wisdom."
Hitherby opens her eyes facing Eli and Mazpatiel wide. Good question, she thinks.
Eli says, "Oh, yeah. Heart. Right. Forget my own Heart next. It's downstairs with the others near
the Master Plan."
Daimonique blinks. "Oh boy. Yeah. Heart. Um, well, someone's gonna be cheesed. Not me, but
you know how it is."
Daimonique says "The Master Plan? Like the plans for World Domination?"
Eli says, "Hey, kid, look at it this way. She can blame it all on me now if you do something
stupid."
Eli says, "No, no, it's my scale model of the universe."
Daimonique says "WOAH! COOL!"
Eli grins.
Daimonique says "The ENTIRE universe?"
<
<
Eli says, "The *entire* universe."
Daimonique says "It must be HUGE."
Eli says, "Well, it's got infinitely extendable pockets."
Daimonique looks suspicious. "Did you make it out of lincoln logs and gum?"
Eli shakes his head. "Nope. Out of Stuff."
Daimonique says "Stuff is all powerful."
Daimonique says "I bow before the mightiness of Stuff."
Eli says, "Indeed."
Daimonique looks boggled.
Daimonique says "So where do you get coffee in this joint?"
Daimonique peers at the comic book.
Eli says, "Oh, Commerce Park, or the Glade, or they always have it at the Halls of Progress. Or
there's some at the Library or the Spires. Or in the Groves."
Eli says, "I mean, everyone drinks coffee.
Mazpatiel says "I think the Groves would be best to wait on."
Hitherby blinkblinks cutely.
Eli says, sagely, "Could be."
Daimonique says "Very sagely."
Daimonique says "So come on Pat. What are you gonna show me?"
Mazpatiel says "The Spires, first. After that, whatever you'd like."
Daimonique bites her lip. "Whatever is cool with you, is cool with me until I either wake up from
the dream I'm having, the drugs wear off, or something else equally wacky happens."
Eli gets off the bed, and gives Daimonique a hug.
Daimonique hugs back. *squeeeze*
Eli says, "Enjoy it, kid. And remember, we need you."
Daimonique says "Cool. Being Needed rocks."
Eli says, "Yeah."
Eli says, "Be cool, kids." He flops back down on the bed again.
Daimonique says "So I guess we're off to see stuff."
Daimonique attempts to find the door out.
Hitherby dips low towards the ground, and then says, "Standing orders are to inform you that you
are always welcome at the Council Fire, Extremely Remarkable One. And, whatever you think
you're doing, be careful." A pause. "And from me, thank you."
Mazpatiel nods to Eli, saying simply "Fare well, Wanderer."
Eli just smiles.
The door is in the corner of the room, and looks openable.
Daimonique says "_I'll_ be back for my guitar. I won it fair and square."
Daimonique grins.
Mazpatiel looks for somewhere to put the pistol.
Eli says, solemnly, "Sure. Come and get it any time."
There are many piles of Stuff on which the pistol could be put.
Daimonique chants. "cool cool cool cool cool" while opening the door.
Mazpatiel sets the pistol on a pile of Stuff, near to the guitar, and follows Daimonique out.
Daimonique walks out into the hallway, and just sort of boggles.
Mazpatiel smiles, slight.
Daimonique says "NOTHING has been like I heard. I mean, absolutely nothing."
Mazpatiel says "Is that a bad thing?"
Daimonique says "Nope. It's just unexpected."
Mazpatiel dips its head downward. "You'll enjoy it, I feel. I can see where an adjustment would
be necessary."
Daimonique says "I'm still me. I thought I would be someone else."
Mazpatiel says "I can't say I'm displeased."
Daimonique says "I might be someone else. I might be a clone."
Mazpatiel's head tilts, its eyes large and curious as it studies Daimonique.
Daimonique grins in a vague sort of way.
Daimonique says "So it was all just bullshit."
Mazpatiel says "What was?"
Hitherby says, "Some of your concerns were legitimate."
Daimonique says "I'm not sure. I think it's going to take me a long time to figure out what was
utter crap and what was true."
Mazpatiel says "You know we will help."
Daimonique nods. "I'm sure you will. I just gotta wonder, how long was I sitting around ready
for this?"
Hitherby spins gleefully around.
Mazpatiel says "That I could tell?"
Hitherby says "It *was* a true choice. Thank you."
Hitherby says "I mean, I knew it *had* to be, but I was very afraid anyway."
Hitherby rotates around and around, wings held at funky angles.
Daimonique says "Well, part of my brain made the choice. Sometimes I wish that part of my brain
would tell the rest of me what was up, but this time I think it was okay."
Daimonique says "Yeah, that you could tell, Pat."
Mazpatiel smiles. "I prefer Mazpatiel here, by the way. I did not notice it myself until perhaps two
days ago. It is my opinion, however, that you were ready some time before we even met."
The corridor leads downwards through the Halls, with workrooms and galleries opening up from
time to time. The odd angel is seen in passing, or the odd blessed soul.
Hitherby says, seriously, "If you *really* want all the parts of your brain to talk to each other,
Daimon, we could go back and ask him to make you a Kyriotate."
Daimonique boggles, sticking her head into workrooms and galleries, making 'Oh cool' noises,
occasionally.
Hitherby then breaks into giggles.
Daimonique laughs. "Nah. I like the part of my brain that makes weird conclusions and doesn't
tell the rest of me."
Mazpatiel drifts along through the hallways, deliberately not taking much notice.
Daimonique is trying to notice _everything_.
A pair of doors ahead offer egress to the Outside.
Daimonique says "In the blink of an eye, there went all that Lilim hearsay about never wanting
to be stuck with one guy forever, how great it was to work on contract, yadda and yadda and
yadda. I'd rather do stuff 'cause it feels right."
Daimonique goes through the doors to the Outside.
Hitherby points. "Look! Egress!"
Hitherby says, "Whoops. I'm a bit slow."
Hitherby says "Being on Earth and Heaven does that to a gal."
Daimonique says "Yet sturdy."
Outside the nearest area is the Halls of Progress. Further off are the Eternal City, Commerce Park,
the Bazaar, the Groves, the Glade, the Savannah...
Mazpatiel follows Daimonique and Hitherby out, and just /radiates/. "Home."
Hitherby confides, "The nice thing about Heaven is that you can get anywhere as fast as you want.
The unfortunate thing is that the travel is so fun that you wind up wanting to take it slow."
Daimonique stands there and just stares at it all.
Daimonique says "It's HUGE."
<
<
<
A streak of Ofanim go bombing across the sky, leaving a meteor-like trail behind them.
Daimonique just stands there and watches all the Stuff.
Daimonique is never gonna get anywhere at this rate.
A group of Mercurians head past, on foot. A few give Daimon slightly puzzled glances, as though
trying to recognise his Choir.
Daimonique shrugs, not worrying about it, and will follow where Pat and Hitherby lead.
Mazpatiel turns back to Daimonique, and offers a slim, glowing hand.
Daimonique takes the hand.
Mazpatiel lifts Daimonique up, slowly, until the both of them are airborn.
The wings on Daimonique's back feel as though they would support her. If she wanted.
Daimonique will try this, although you can thwap anyone with them.
Hitherby follows -- even easily, this being Heaven.
The wings do, indeed, work, fanning in a tie-dyed way.
Daimonique, never having wings before, is not really good at this sort of thing.
As soon as Daimonique is able to support herself, Mazpatiel releases its hand. It stays close
enough to support her if necessary.
Demiurge says "You don't seem in any danger of crashlanding, Daimonique."
The Council spires approach rapidly. The odd flight of other angels, or single angel, crosses your
path, but nobody tries to stop you or get in your way.
Daimonique determines this is a singular weird feeling.
Daimonique may not be crashlanding, but is having a fun time steering.
<
Daimonique attempts to not run into too much stuff.
Apart from a couple of brushes near a few minarets, which weren't really at too high a speed,
there are no collisions.
Mazpatiel locates the courtyard of the Spires, and begins its descent.
Daimonique is suspicious of this whole landing thing.
Mazpatiel touches down, looking up at Daimonique.
A couple of Cherubim on guard duty at the inner gates watch the descent with interest.
Daimonique attempts this entire landing thing, hoping not to look too foolish, but really, who
needs dignity when you can be Funny?
The landing goes off safely. Daimon does not break or even sprain or bruise anything.
Daimonique is rather impressed, and since is impressed, she bows to the Cherubim and grins at
'em.
The Cherubim return the salutation, spreading then folding their wings. They are both winged dire
wolves.
Hitherby bobs.
One of the Cherubim - who Mazpatiel would recognise as Timotheus, an old acquaintance -
growls, "Mazzzzpatiel. It has been a while."
Daimonique wonders, offhand, if Cherubs can appear as giant frogs.
Mazpatiel says "Timotheus. It has been."
Timotheus growls, "Looking for anything or anyone in particular?"
Mazpatiel says "Introductions and explanations must be made."
Hitherby says "For example, I'm Hitherby, and I acquired this ant honestly! -- one introduction
and one explanation."
Timotheus and the other Cherub look to Daimon.
The second Cherub growls, in a lighter tone, "My name is Hilarion. And I must confess that I am
curious."
Mazpatiel looks at Daimonique. "Would you care to introduce yourself, and allow me the
explanation?"
Daimonique says "Sure." She grins at the Cherubs. "I'm Daimon."
The two Cherubim look to Mazpatiel, waiting for the explanation.
Mazpatiel looks at Hilarion and Timotheus. "Daimon is currently in service to the Most Just...and
scant hours ago was given unto Grace by the Wanderer."
Both Cherubim bow their heads.
Daimonique says "Or it could be an amazing acid trip."
Timotheus growls, "Then I imagine you would be wanting audience with the Most Just, or at least
to leave a report?"
Hitherby explains to Daimon, "Impossible. I only consumed chocolate."
Chephirah murmurs to Daimon, "In theory, but hardly likely."
Daimonique says "Wow, with this evidence...."
Daimonique squints up at the Spires. Tall. Cool.
Mazpatiel says "An audience, if possible."
Timotheus says, "I believe the Most Just is in residence at the moment. If you go in and make
petition, you should be lucky."
Mazpatiel dips its head. "My thanks."
The Cherubim both dip their wings, again - though, in truth, neither has ever attempted to block
the archway that leads into the Tribunal.
Hitherby thinks about whether she has anything she wants to report to Jordi. Most of it has gone
through the Seneschal already, though, so she decides to wait on it unless Daimon wishes to see
the Savannah.
Daimonique wants to see EVERYTHING, but there are only so many hours until dawn.
Mazpatiel leads the way into the building itself, drifting cooly through the halls.
Chephirah purrs softly, gesturing thanks and respect to each of the Cherubim in turn.
Inside, the corridors are brightly lit, walled and floored and roofed in marble and ivory. The maze
of courtrooms and offices is somewhat confusing to an outside, but Mazpatiel remembers it
well.
The Cherubim both growl softly to Chephirah as she passes, in friendly comment.
Daimonique just stares around herself in amazement.
Mazpatiel remembers it well indeed, memories returning to their snug places. It has been entirely
too long. It drifts towards a specific office, there to make petition.
A couple of Seraphim whir past in blurs of six wings, jewelled in sapphire and amethyst. One
pauses for a second at Daimonique, her eyes widening, before she hurries to catch up with her
friend.
Daimonique says "It looks like the inside of the Temple, out of color plates from history books
and the like, but bigger."
Mazpatiel nods. "We've seen but a small part of it."
Daimonique says "Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus H. Christ."
Chephirah just purrs. Contentedly.
In the office, the current secretary on duty is Saffron, a Mercurian who is currently trying to
balance a pile of dockets before they all fall over.
Saffron looks a touch harassed as she glances up and smiles. As she catches sight of Daimonique,
her eyes widen, but her mouth is on autopilot, as she says, "Can I help you?"
You paged Mazpatiel with 'You know her by name, though not personally.'.
Daimonique says "Hey."
Mazpatiel says "Saffron. We wish an audience."
Daimonique waves, and goes back to looking around.
Saffron looks at Mazpatiel, then at Daimonique, then back at Mazpatiel. She says, "I will go and
see what can be arranged. Just a moment."
Chephirah blinks at the pile of dockets, and lends a wing to balance in Saffron's absence.
Saffron manages to get the dockets to stay still, and rises, trotting into an inner room.
Daimonique looks nervous, just like she's always nervous before dealing with a Prince.
Mazpatiel is calm and relaxed and looks very very content.
Daimonique straightens her fish tie, and fixes the small theater mask cufflinks.
Mazpatiel says "There will be questions."
Daimonique says "I would think so, yeah."
Daimonique says "I don't have much in the way of answers."
Hitherby whirls around slowly, not that she's much different on any side.
Mazpatiel says "That's alright. Just be frank."
Mazpatiel says "If you don't know, say so. You're in no danger."
Daimonique says "I'm about as mellow as I'm gonna get right now. This place is cool,
though."
Mazpatiel says "This is where I was created, in these halls. I've missed them."
Daimonique says "I can see why you guys are so eager to go home when you're on Earth
now."
Mazpatiel smiles
Daimonique says "I would be too. I mean, just for _sightseeing_."
Hitherby says "I usually spend about 2 months a year here. It helps me keep centered."
Mazpatiel says "There will be time aplenty. I am pleased, Daimon, that you like it."
Daimonique says "It's Amazing. It's HUGE. Hell looks so... scummy against this."
Mazpatiel just nods.
Chephirah purrs approvingly to Hitherby. "Wise, wise."
Chephirah's ears flick forward with amusement.
Daimonique says "Tawdry and dirty and fake."
Hitherby reflects. "In my experience, you are overkind to it. However, you may have lived in the
good parts."
Daimonique says "I live in Shal-Mari. It's a pleasure pit. As for the rest, I've seen Perdition a few
times, but that's about it."
Saffron enters, again, and fluffs out her wings. "The Most Just will be able to see you in five
minutes."
<
Chephirah blinks.
Saffron returns to her desk, with a nod of thanks to Chephirah for balancing the dockets.
Daimonique doesn't realize this. It's not like it's HARD to get in to see, say, Andre. She continues
to look around and all the stuff, looking at the icons in the office and out windows and stuff.
Chephirah relinquishes the precious papers to their proper keeper, careful.
Mazpatiel just soaks up atmosphere for a few minutes.
Hitherby whirls, body language (for anyone who knows Kyrios) reading: "I don't belong here, but
this is interesting."
Saffron punctually says, five minutes later, "Please go in." She points to the inner door.
Daimonique waits to follow Pat.
Chephirah nods her thanks to Saffron in turn, rather deeper. "Mazpatiel, should I remain
without?"
Hitherby slowly decreases her spin until she is stable.
Mazpatiel nods to Chephirah. "For the moment."
Chephirah nods, and ensconces herself well out of the way of those with actual business.
Mazpatiel moves into the inner room.
Daimonique follows Pat, hands in pockets.
The inner room is a rising tower, high-ceilinged, with shafts of light falling from the thin windows
to lie across the Seraphic form of Dominic. He is wrapped in his black cloak, six eyes gleaming
like star-rubies as he rises in a ripple.
Mazpatiel comes to a halt a number of paces away, and bows low, silent.
Daimonique finds a good non-pants-mussing spot on the floor, and gets down on her knees,
forehead to nice cool marble.
Daimonique doesn't play games with tall Seraphic forms of Dominic.
Dominic sings in the celestial speech, voice like cool cellos, "Mazpatiel, Daimonique. Rise, Lilim.
There is no need to kneel so."
Daimonique gets up, and looks nervous. Eli was cool. Dominic is frightening.
Dominic coils lower to the ground. "I am gladdened to see Daimonique among us."
Daimonique just stays quiet and tries to look, well, Daimonish.
Mazpatiel says "I thank you for receiving us so promptly."
Dominic sings, "Do you still wish to continue working with my Servitors for the moment,
Daimonique? Or would you rather otherwise?"
Daimonique says "I would follow through with the geas."
Dominic sing