Cecilia steps back down towards the Metro entrance, briskly.
Pat follows Cecilia back underground, silently.
Cecilia collects a ticket, and makes her way towards the Metro line that will stop near the Capitol Building.
Pat runs his monthly pass over the turnstile and follows, looking for some reason unsurprised.
Cecilia says, as they enter the train, "Can you understand Helltongue?"
Pat replies, in that tongue, "Yes."
Cecilia nods, briskly. "And do you have any idea of what it's going to be like down there? Can you carry yourself as if it's natural?"
The train carriage sways and rattles along the rails.
Pat says "I've heard a bit. And adaptation is a strong point of mine."
Cecilia nods, hanging onto one of the straps. "Good. I'll have to paint something temporary on you."
Pat . o O ( Why do I get the feeling that Daimon's stories don't even come close? )
Pat purses his lips. "Of course."
Cecilia's mouth curls. "Oh, don't worry. I won't try and enjoy it or anything like that."
<
<
Pat says "I feel so reassured."
Cecilia chuckles a little, dryly. "We're going down the Freedom-Tether. I'm owed a favour or two.
Shal-Mari is next door to Perdition, and that's probably where he is."
<
Pat says "And anarchic enough to give us a chance, hm?"
Cecilia says, "Two Punishers won't stand out in the crowd there, no."
<
Pat's jaw twitches. "Of course."
<
Cecilia says, "Stop the reaction. Remember, you're an angel of God. You're *chosen*. Despise
the rest of the world as much as you like, but don't twitch like that when someone says that
word."
Cecilia's own voice is calm, half distracted.
Pat rolls his neck, exhaling. "Yes."
Cecilia nods, as the train rattles to their stop. She steps through the sliding doors.
Pat follows, falling into the liquid stride of his native form.
Cecilia leads the way up towards the Capitol Building. She says, quietly, "The Tether's on the
roof. Let me do the talking this end and the other end, unless they ask you something directly. I'm
going to pull the vital-importance-don't-ask routine."
Pat nods. "You realize that while I can pronounce your tongue, I have no intentions of using it
for deceit."
Cecilia blinks. "No, no, of course not, heaven forbid." She pauses. "Try and carry it off with
manner. Stare them down. Don't let them think about the questions in the first place."
<
Pat nods. "That should not be unduly difficult."
Cecilia nods, and takes the stairs up to the top at a brisk trot.
As she heads upwards, Cecilia slips a pair of mirrorshades from a pocket of her jacket, and flips
them on.
Pat follows, coat whipping in the wind through the Mall. He finds his own sunglasses and dons
them.
<
As they go up, they pass the latest Tour Group coming down. The Tour Group look bored. The
guide at the front drones faintly.
At the top, the place is empty around the high plinth of the statue, and the wind rattles crisp
packets across the roof. A cat lounges in the curve of the wall, out of the wind, grooming
itself.
Cecilia doesn't break stride. She heads directly across towards the cat, snapping in Helltongue,
"Senir. Your services are required."
Pat looks out, across to the Washington Monument, as Cecilia deals.
The Washington Monument stands high and proud, a far cry from the depths of Hell.
The cat regards Cecilia for a moment, then mews, shakes itself, and rubs against her leg.
<
Cecilia goes still. Her lips move a couple of times, as though she were framing sentences, and then
she pauses as though for a reply.
Pat moves his lips in a silent prayer to Heaven in general, looking away from the demons.
Cecilia eventually nods. The cat paces away, flips its tail, and stalks towards a door in the
wall.
The cat vanishes through the door, managing to convey an air of distinct annoyance.
Cecilia says, quickly, "Now."
<
Pat nods, turning away and following.
Cecilia's eyes distance, and she folds her arms - and then the Symphony trembles as she takes
Celestial form, and is a Habbalite, form cicatriced by scars and tattoos that declare her in Baal's
service. Cecilia's eyes are stormcloud grey, flat like oiled glass. She waits.
<
Mazpatiel lets its flesh fall away, leaving it as a cool radiance in contrast to Cecilia's shattered
mirror.
Cecilia says nothing. She simply turns, like a diver, and pivots between worlds. And is gone.
Mazpatiel reaches out for the trailing afterimage of her and, God willing, follows.
And the world changes...
... and the two of them stand in a dark room, the floor inlaid with a twisting pattern of mosaic that
is almost, _almost_ legible. A Lilim who clatters musically with Geasa down her arms is lounging
by the door, a book in her hands; she looks up.
Cecilia is already moving, towards the Lilim. Two knives hang from her belt, and a couple of
pouches, but she moves smoothly.
Mazpatiel glides along after, its eyes hardening into slivers of violet crystal.
The Lilim comes spluttering to her feet. "Now just a minute! Who are you and what are you doing
here?"
Cecilia's voice is dry. "We came down the Tether. You would have noticed if you had not been
reading pornography. The Seneschal permitted it. Go back and sit down, girl."
The Lilim splutters, looks between the Punishers, and considers.
The Lilim says, "You realise I'll have to _report_ this."
<
<
Mazpatiel allows itself an attempt at a cruel smile.
<
<
Cecilia says, calmly, "Report away, just move out of the doorway." She walks on, quite clearly
not intending to stop.
The Lilim sidles aside just before she is reached, and does her best to make it look like a careless
unheeding sidestep.
Cecilia strides into the dark hallway beyond.
<
Mazpatiel follows, after a last smile to the Lilim.
Cecilia's eyes flick idly along the doors off the hallway. She steps into the first one that bears the
Hellsign for a restroom, gesturing Mazpatiel to follow her.
Mazpatiel steps in after her, looking around for other occupants.
The room is empty.
Mazpatiel looks at Cecilia. "Give me a blade."
The room contains a lot of mirrors, several cushions, and a few other implements of
relaxation.
<
Cecilia pauses a moment, then slips one of the knives from her belt, sheath and all, and offers it
hilt first. It's not the better knife.
Cecilia says, "Make yourself a sash from some of this trash. And what symbols do you want to
wear?"
Cecilia is slipping a pen of some sort from one of her pouches.
<
Mazpatiel turns the knife over in its hands. "The ones I'm used to." And in two quick motions,
slashes across each palm.
Cecilia says, calmly, "That was stupid. I hope you have not injured the tendons."
<
<
Mazpatiel sets the knife on a counter. "I know how deep to cut, thank you." It watches the blood
well, and very calmly drags crimson streaks down its face, a blatant mockery of tears.
Cecilia inclines her head, and waits.
<
<
Mazpatiel squeezes a bit more from its hands, and then begins wringing them together, smearing
the blood clear to its elbows. A cushion is then slashed to produce a crude belt, and the knife is
secure.
Cecilia nods, considering it.
Cecilia says, "That should do."
Mazpatiel says "I thought as much. Let's move on."
Cecilia nods, leading the way out of the room. Outside, the hallway is still quiet.
Mazpatiel follows, an occasional drop of blood breaking free from healing hands and splattering
on the floor.
As they go up stairs, the building becomes populated. Lilim, mostly, who go by in chattering
groups, clearly engaged in personal games of one-upmanship or Deals. They glance at the two
Punishers, then glance away again.
Cecilia has produced a pair of mirrorshades from her pouch, and set them on her face. She
murmurs, "You may need some, too."
Mazpatiel says "I find myself woefully equipped."
Cecilia murmurs, "Some mornings are like that."
Mazpatiel says "Quite."
Mazpatiel simply tries to avoid eye contact, then.
They're getting near the doors now - and Mazpatiel can hear outside the deafening *throb* of
Shal-Mari. A constant barrage of noise, cries, sales, music, gasps, crashes.
Mazpatiel says "You said you could track her."
Cecilia nods, sliding a hand for a moment into one of her pouches. "I can. So far my senses detect
a direction and a vague distance. I gauge her in Perdition."
Mazpatiel nods. "Show me the way."
<
Cecilia nods.
<
The two make their way into a large room, which is _full_ of Lilim - and other demons. There
seem to be dozens of stalls or recruiters, and the air is full of noise, and the room full of big-eyed
green-fleshed horned Lilim.
Cecilia simply shoulders her way through the crowd, using elbows as necessary, presence where
possible.
Mazpatiel keeps its eyes forward and hard, cutting off any approaching Sister with a curt
blood-soaked gesture.
<
The Lilim seem content not to approach Mazpatiel too closely. He and Cecilia reach the exit, and
are out into the street beyond.
The street of Shal-Mari _throbs_. Sex shops, brothels, restaurants, street traders, passing demons
on leave from other Principalities, whimpering souls.
Mazpatiel looks around. So, this is Hell.
Cecilia turns aside to a street vendor offering dark glasses, and acquires a pair.
An Impudite vendor approaches Mazpatiel, juggling a tray full of dark floppy beanies. "Want a
Beanie? For you, only two essence, and you get the best quality Dominic!"
<
<
<
Mazpatiel looks down at the Beanies, then up at the Impudite. It sneers, speaking in Helltongue
"Cheap imitations do not interest me."
<
<
<
<
<
<
The Impudite bats his eyelashes. "Well, for you I could make it one measure. I can tell you're a
perceptive shopper!"
Mazpatiel says, firmly, "No."
Mazpatiel turns away from the vendor, towards Cecilia.
<
<
Cecilia blandly offers Mazpatiel the pair of dark glasses, ignoring the Impudite.
<
Mazpatiel slides the shades on, the concealment of its eyes making the bleeding cheeks look that
much more graphic.
Cecilia points to a wide, wide street that is just on the left. "That's the Strip. It'll take us to the
closest gate to Perdition."
Mazpatiel nods. "Then we take it."
Cecilia stalks ahead of Mazpatiel, leading the way. A Balseraph calls bargains from a leather
bondage shop, but she ignores him.
Mazpatiel follows Cecilia, not even deigning to acknowledge the denizens of this pit of
iniquity.
If the side street was packed with demons and souls and gaudy trade and sex and food and
iniquity, the Strip is even more so. The whole place is an assault on the body and eyes and ears,
and yet... oddly tempting. Sweet.
<
Mazpatiel . o O ( I will not lust. Lust is the mind-killer. Lust is the little death that brings total
obliteration. )
A Balseraph that looks oddly like Focalor, though submissive, in leather bondage, sidles by.
<
<
Mazpatiel ignores the Balseraph.
<
<
Cecilia leads the way on down the street, kicking aside a few imps who try and clutch at her ankle.
On the left is some large establishment of Andrealphus, with heavily illustrated billboards.
Mazpatiel, remembering previous advice, allows its disgust to show, as it follows Cecilia's tread
through the Aisle of Sin.
A Djinn, rather like a three-tailed, scaled cougar, strolls out of the Lust establishment, and then
makes its way through the crouds towards Cecilia.Cecilia's eyes might flick in the Djinn's
direction, under her shades, but she ignores it, continuing towards the next Establishment - that
of Valefor, with a big sign, "GOD SAVE THE MARK."
As it approaches, the Djinn sweetly purrs, "Servitor of valiant Baal! Are you off-duty? Come,
partake of the pleasures you have earned, fair angel!"
Mazpatiel sneers openly at the Djinn.
Cecilia turns towards the Djinn. Her voice is flat. "Some of us don't go off duty, minion of
Lust."
<
The Djinn smiles, licking its nose and sides of its muzzle at once with three delicate tonguetips.
"No? And I thought I saw you once before, some time before. Off-duty."
<
<
The Djinn sidles towards Cecilia, though not touching her, and then around her towards
Mazpatiel.
Cecilia says, "Oh?" There's a dry resignation in her voice.
The Djinn smiles. "Oh, have you forgotten sweet Ysari already? I suppose you might have..." It
looks Mazpatiel up and down. "Are you sure you have not found your own amusements?"
Mazpatiel looks over the sunglasses, its eyes shards of glass. It whispers "Leave us to our work,
demon."
Cecilia folds her arms. "My Lord rewards his servants justly."
The Djinn trills, "Of course, of course," to Cecilia, though without taking its glittering gaze from
Mazpatiel. "Your work? Oh, but all work and no play, that is no fun for sweet angels."
Cecilia's mouth tightens, her brows drawing together.
Ysari smiles at Mazpatiel. "Sweet, sweet angel. Have you not learned, yet, what the pleasures of
gender can be? Ysari could teach you, oh yes, I could..."
Mazpatiel chuckles, a very dry and very unpleasant sound. "We carry the Judgment of God in our
hands, demon. There is no place for pleasure there."
Cecilia says, "Unless you truly want to learn of pain."
Cecilia says, "At our hands."
Cecilia says, "I am not caged now."
Ysari purrs at Cecilia. "You do remember!"
Cecilia says, "Minion of Lust, I have some vague recollection of incompetent pawing."
Cecilia turns, to continue down the road.
Ysari paces around to get Mazpatiel between itself and Cecilia, then pads along after them.
"Incompetent? Ah, your memory is still scrambled."
Mazpatiel flicks a drop of blood to the street before Ysari. "You have been dismissed, Hellspawn.
Take heed of it."
Cecilia says, mocking, "Your charges will be running away, petty one. Go teach them touching."
She doesn't look at Ysari.
Ysari paces over the blood calmly and tries to butt its head against Mazpatiel's leg. "Sweet one,
you really should take some time off. Our service is ever so much more pleasant than hers."
Mazpatiel sidesteps the Djinn. "I have no desire for pleasant service at the moment. We have work
to do."
Ysari pouts and turns, though it trails one tail along Mazpatiel's haunches as it does so.
Cecilia doesn't look back, clearly expecting Mazpatiel to follow.
<
Mazpatiel follows Cecilia.
Cecilia continues to lead the way down the street, sidestepping vendors or ignoring them. They
pass establishments clearly financed by Baal, Kobal, Beleth, Vapula, and others. The place grows
stifling after a while, hot and close and *throbbing*.
Mazpatiel makes mental notes, composing its report before the paddling ensues, but says nothing
as it follows.
Cecilia frowns slightly, reaching into her belt pouch again.
Cecilia murmurs, "They're moving."
Mazpatiel says "Where."
Cecilia says, "Not sure. Through Perdition. But we're nearly at the gates."
Indeed, ahead of them on the Strip looms a large stone portal that opens into another world. High
skyscrapers gleam beyond, and lights illuminate glass buildings. Two large Djinn hulk at the gate,
inspecting papers from some of those who pass.
Mazpatiel nods. "Is Perdition less...cloying?"
Cecilia considers. "In a different way. Now stay behind me, say nothing."
Mazpatiel nods, falling into step.
Cecilia joins the queue jostling for the attention of the guards.
<
<
Mazpatiel looks around, waiting in line.
<
<
<
<
<
Cecilia finally reaches the front of the queue. She shows a pass-token, and jerks her chin at Pat.
"He's new. Going for my Prince."
<
<
<
<
The Djinn turn red-rimmed eyes to Mazpatiel.
Mazpatiel looks back at the Djinn.
The Djinn glance at each other, then shrug apathetically. Clearly they aren't that interested in
stopping people _leaving_ Shal-Mari.
Cecilia steps through the archway, back straight, shoulders untensed.
Mazpatiel follows, striding smoothly through the gate.
And they step into Perdition. High-powered cars zoom along the road, with only the occasional
spark from the engine. Bright skyscrapers rear to the dark sky. Crowds of news reporters prowl
the street.
Mazpatiel says "We're looking for a truck."
Cecilia says, "Any more information?"
Mazpatiel says "Teraphim of the Media is taking them to the Marches."
Cecilia says, "Why?"
<
Mazpatiel says "Are you familiar with what was occuring at Bellman's?"
Caliah says, "Some sort of covert brainwashing op to frame Kobal. At a rough guess."
Mazpatiel says "Using the Marches as a venue."
Cecilia says, "Interesting."
Cecilia would say more, but at that moment a Balseraph waves a microphone in their faces,
backed by an Impudite cameraman. "News sample! Product placement! Interview!"
Mazpatiel says "No Comment."
Cecilia says, "No comment."
The Balseraph weaves nervously. "Any thoughts about the recent release of Kobal? Slasher slays
Game thugs? Serial killer murders? Sex romp scandal?"
Mazpatiel smiles thinly. "How about a story on Nightmares frightening demons into
Redemption?"
The Balseraph blinks. "Say what?"
The Impudite's camera whirrs.
Mazpatiel continues to smile. "Look into it. It's the scoop of the decade." It moves past the
interview team.
Cecilia stalks away, sharply. The interview team consider following, then halt to pursue a more
newsworthy-looking Calabite.
Cecilia murmurs, "Let us hope that nobody of consequence sees that."
Mazpatiel says "I sincerely doubt they will pursue it."
Mazpatiel . o O ( And besides, you're the only one at risk, traitor. )
Behind them, there is the sound of a camera exploding in a field of entropy.
Mazpatiel says "Of course, the point may be moot."
Cecilia slips her hand into her pouch again, and frowns.
Cecilia says, "That way, and I think they're almost at the Hades gate. We're not likely to catch
them before they get there."
Cecilia says, "Hades will be harder."
Mazpatiel says "Then we hurry before they reach the gate. I assume they will have to wait to cross
the border?"
Cecilia says, "There will be checks at the Hades gate, yes. And your disguise will not fool a
Servitor of the Game."
Cecilia's mouth twists. "I think that this is where, as they say, you get off."
Mazpatiel says "You realize what they are attempting to get into Hades, yes?"
Cecilia says, "I realise that they are going to the Marches, as you have said. For that, they must
pass through Hades."
Mazpatiel says "Teraphim is taking a Redeemed Sister into Hades. There will be delays."
Cecilia says - still walking, as they both continue - "She's in disguise as a human. That's clearly
why."
Mazpatiel says "And is it likely to fool them?"
Cecilia shrugs. "The Balseraph clearly thinks it will."
Mazpatiel says "He would."
Cecilia sighs slightly. "Give up. I'm not taking you in there. Just ascend out of here, and count
yourself lucky."
Mazpatiel looks at Cecilia for a very long moment.
Cecilia comes to a halt. She folds her arms, regarding Mazpatiel.
Mazpatiel says "You offerred to help. Why?"
Cecilia says, "Perhaps I saw a useful potential ally."
Mazpatiel nods. "Thank you, then."
<
<
Cecilia nods.
Cecilia says, "Be careful. There are sharks out there, more than you know."
Mazpatiel steps back from Cecilia, spreads its still-bleeding hands. "I know. You will know how
to reach me." It goes to its Heart.
<
As Mazpatiel appears by his Heart, a Cherub who is settled there snorts, eyes flaring wide, and
shuffles back a step, muscles heavy under its polar-bear hide.
<
The Cherub grunts, "Well, that was exciting."
<
<
<
Mazpatiel tosses the shades and the knife onto its desk, and looks for a cloth to wipe the blood
free. "You're telling me."
The Cherub grunts, "The name's Efkai. Was told someone was to watch your Heart. Didn't expect
quite such a show."
Mazpatiel nods to Efkai. "I am Mazpatiel. It's a pleasure to meet you. I just didn't want anyone
not to know if something went wrong. Have you by chance had any word of the other
Hearts?"
Efkai shakes his head. "No idea, sorry."
Mazpatiel dips its head. "Very well. Thank you, Efkai, for your vigilance." It wipes the last of the
blood from its hands, and moves to leave the office.
Efkai grunts, "No problem." He follows after.
--