Multiple Settings War for the Moon

[ValidEmotions]

Argia
The Storyteller | Fallen Collector

Spoiler: Outfit

Ten years.

The land was parched. Shriveled. It begged for mercy from the endless sun. Her hand swept across the petrified tree, feeling dead bark crumble away beneath her fingers. It didn't matter how gentle her touch was. Argia pulled her hand away and studied the particles clinging to her palm before eventually brushing it clean against the fabric of her skirt. Suffocating wind moaned, tangling the ends of her hair as the gust further weathered the dead tree before her. Looking away, her gaze drifted towards the dome rising from the horizon.

Clouded as it appeared, sunlight glinted off the hues of swirling dark blue as if it were a reflective material. In the ten years since the moon vanished, several of these domes popped into existence. The clouded barrier ahead was a looming, silent, announcement that the city was under the control of at least one demon. If she focused long enough, she could faintly see the runes embedded on the dome that allowed it to protect the city within.

Cracked earth crunched under foot as she started forward again. She could feel the souls calling within and, as she eventually drew close enough, she could parse their individual Lifelines. Glimmers of mortal life that danced across all of her senses. Argia drifted closer to the enclosed city, eventually reaching its boarder. Magic leaked from the dome like a heatwave. This close, she could make out the large runes etched into the dome in better detail.

Bringing a hand up, her fingers hovered just a hair's breadth away from the dome. Infernal energy prickled at her fingertips, threatening to lace itself through her. Slowly, she eased her hand away and continued moving along the city's protected boarder until she could find the entrance. It was one of those 'blink, and you'll miss it' sort. They nearly always were.

Several minutes passed before she at last found the entrance, a subtle seam within the magic. Standing before it, Argia studied the significantly smaller runes lining the threshold until she was certain of the safety in crossing it. Passing through a dome's barrier was always easier when going in than going out. Magical energy crawled along her body, soaking through the fabrics of her clothing and old bandages to caress her skin with intense heat. The light of the sun vanished, replaced by a heavy darkness that blanketed the city within.

Pausing briefly, Argia allowed her eyes to quickly adjust to the starless night before surveying the city ahead. Not many were out, leaving the street in an eerie silence with weak lamps struggling to stay alight. She frowned. Quietly, she resumed walking, passing beneath the streetlights and the shuttered buildings. Within, she could sense the mortals. It was becoming very likely that the city had an imposed curfew, Argia's gaze drifting to the pair of figures lingering at the opposite end of the street. They were watching her in similar kind. When she had closed about half the distance, she halted. Infernal energy rippled off their forms like murky water, painting their impossibly endless Lifelines behind Argia's dark eyes. Eventually, the pair began moving, striding towards her.

She waited.

"Been awhile since we had a visitor," one said when there were only a few strides left between them and her. The demon who spoke, the taller of the pair, leaned forward slightly, making no secret of studying her as his gaze flickered down then back up. His fellow took to pacing around her until they stood behind her. "What business do you have here tonight, Mäuschen?"

"Merely a traveler passing through," she replied, a glance darting towards the demon behind her before returning to the demon in front.

The short demon behind her sniffed, then chortled. "Well, your kind needs to pay for passage. Elsewise... We can't truly ensure you a safe refuge while here." As they spoke, Argia more felt than heard the demon shuffle forward. A set of claws plucked at one of the small pouches tied to her hip.

'Her kind'. A faint frown twitched at the corner of her lip in response. Demons never failed to make sure Argia was well aware of 'lowly' status of those who didn't cleanly fit within one category or another. Abomination. The blend of her Celestial and Infernal energies was one thing. Being Fallen just compounded upon that. She could only remember the last ten years, but she was quickly taught about the strongly rooted hatred. Her back itched--chaffed--beneath the cropped, short-sleeved, coat she wore. For a moment, she felt feathers brush her neck where the upright collar touched.

"What payment do you seek?" Argia finally inquired, fingers curling into her palm to avoid slapping the intrusive demon's hand away from her.

The taller demon grinned, a sickly-sweet expression upon his features that didn't look human enough. Sharp fangs glinted in the streetlight. "Just a few souls. Surely, Mäuschen, you have some to spare?"

She paused, considering her next reply carefully. Once more, she glanced behind her shoulder at the shorter demon who was still prodding at the pouches attached to her belt, head tilted as if they were listening to the contents. "Very well," Argia sighed. "If that is all...." She reached a hand upward, fingers touching lightly against the silver crescent pendant resting upon her collarbone. As she drew her hand away and outward towards the taller demon, flickers of blue flame sparked into existence at her fingertips. The flames gathered and swirled, coalescing into a sphere of blue fire roughly the size of a baseball that floated above her open palm.

Argia no longer remembered how she came to possess the mortal's soul resting within her hand. But, as she held it out for the demon to take, she remembered the mortal's life story. A youth, with so many hopes and dreams and ambitions that never came to fruition. Her eyes stung, forcing her to swallow down the emotion that began to ball up within her throat. I'm sorry, little one....

Letting the Soulfire float up from her palm to hover near her shoulder, she touched her necklace a second time. Similar to the first, the next Soulfire manifested, an elder's life playing through her thoughts as if she were flipping through the pages of an aged book. 'Storyteller' echoed at the back of her mind, the memory a frayed thread dangling just outside of Argia's reach. She wouldn't let her thoughts linger on the unknown memory, coaxing the second Soulfire to hover alongside the first.

The third Soulfire ended up belonging to a middle-aged individual, one who struggled regularly through the phases of their existence. Argia's chest pinged with a soft pain for the mortal as the Soulfire joined the other two near her shoulder. "I have these to offer you. If there is nothing else, I wish to be on my way," she said, gathering the three Soulfires between her hands to nudge carefully towards the taller demon.

The demon behind her finally traced their way back to their companion's side, both grinning sharply. "Yes, that'll do quite nicely, Mäuschen." Both demons took a step sideways, providing Argia a 'path' between them, and gesturing for her permittance to leave. She shifted her gaze from one to the other and back again, studying their features, their postures, and the three Soulfires that now floated about them. Finally, she stepped between and past them, striding down the sidewalk and out from beneath the streetlamp's glow. Silence stretched on as she continued, the lack of a breeze winding through the entombed city growing more eerie to Argia than the lack of mortals traveling the streets. It almost--

Her hackles prickled at the back of her neck.

She twisted abruptly, angling her body low as she swept her leg out for a counterbalance. Metal glinted with faint light as the dagger shot through where her shoulder should have been. Now facing the way she'd come, Argia narrowed her gaze upon the pair of demons sprinting for her. Both clutched daggers within their clawed hands.

"We know you've got a wealth of souls, Mäuschen," the taller demon called out. He leapt high, twirling through the jump to slash at her with his pair of daggers. "And you're going to yield them all!"

Argia dodged backwards, tendrils of shadow coalescing at her fingers until they solidified into a long staff that ended in a sharp, deadly, curved blade. She retaliated, switching her grip to swing the scythe in a wide arch. The shorter demon dove below the attack, managing to dart in close and forcing Argia to jerk the staff upward to deflect their cutting assault.

 

[Lycanious]

Vazithrazuul

Keeper of Quills
Fallen Angel & Knowledge Demon

Though the city held a dreary atmosphere, and the unforgiving sun boiled away at the world beyond it, there were some who liked to think that small, scattered pockets of comfort and peace still existed.

The Quill Collective, some would claim, could be considered one of those pockets. The library was vast and the building it sat within was an ancient one, yet seemed to always maintain a bright light and a pleasant temperature for its visitors. For those who treated the location with respect, and demanded little other than a small space to temporarily carve out for themselves, it could be seen as both a reprieve from the troubles of the outside world and, for the particularly curious, house the answers to their questions somewhere within its walls.

Many mortals however were off-put by its usual patrons, who could range from the eerie subtlety of questionable humanity to the obviously demonic. The librarian who ran the place was hardly an exception to this, being a tall, pointy sort of being with gaunt features and talon-like nails frequently stained by ink. Normally they would simply sit by the desk at the entrance during opening hours, either with their attention lost in some great tome while they lounged back in a comfortable armchair or simply regarding an unassuming corner of the library with an unblinking, vacant stare for several minutes at a time. Sometimes it would take a few tries to win back their attention when this happened, to the point where the desk held a little sign suggesting to ‘Just keep calling the name ‘Vazithrazuul’ until I respond’ for anyone in a rush to speak to them.

For now, though, the library was closed. And with the mortals shuffled out of the door and the place to themself Vazithrazuul, or ‘Vaz’ for short, was currently occupied with an inventory check. Honey-hued eyes hidden behind a pair of spectacles drifted over some papers in the librarian’s hand, their tongue clicking in thought as they shuffled through them one-by-one to ensure that the name of each book written upon them had indeed been accounted for. Above them swarmed a series of floating, enchanted quills, each one zipping back and forth across the library to attend to their duties. Occasionally one would pause and turn to Vaz, as if taking note from afar of the title they were reading, before darting away to presumably locate it for them.

Once satisfied with their contents, Vaz placed the papers back down onto their desk and tapped a nail to them a few times. One of the quills descended, the tip of their hilt splitting open like a beak before the writing utensil pecked at the corner of one of the pages and lifted it into the air to file it away. Other quills started to follow suit, Vaz not even batting an eyelid as feathers and papers whizzed and fluttered all around them. Instead they merely fished out a small leather-bound diary from the chest pocket of the coat they were wearing, opening it before them as the pages started to flip to the section they wanted on their own accord.

They didn’t need to announce the name they had in mind. Simply by raising their hand and twitching their fingers, half distracted by the to-do list they were now mulling over, the quills on instinct knew which of them Vaz wished to speak to. One with a hilt carved of gold boldly darted forward. The quill flitted through the air before tapping at Vaz’s outstretched hand. In response the hand shifted, Vaz’s eyes remaining glued to their list, but still taking hold of the quill in a gentle manner. They then brought the hand to their list and tutted in thought, using the quill to strike out two items and scribble down some notes in the corner of the page before releasing both the writing instrument and the paper from their grasp. The quill remained nearby and began to float a mere few inches away from their head, as if peering over the shoulder at their work. The planner, meanwhile, flipped closed while still suspended in the air before it obediently tucked itself away into the chest pocket of Vaz’s coat.

Through Vaz’s mind a vision of elegant, emerald-hued calligraphy then manifested.

I see you have a business meeting for tonight. Shall I have a contract prepared?

“No need, Fi, though thank you for asking.” Vaz hummed, briefly glancing towards the quill to acknowledge the writing tool. “The meeting in question is simply between Jorath and I.”

I see. That explains the booking for the coffee shop.

“Yes, well. I wanted to make sure we obtained that private little nook on the upper floor balcony for the duration of the visit.”

Very sensible. I take it that there is a good reason for the expensive dress under your coat, too?

“...Yes. A formal attire sets a good reputation, my dear. It would potentially benefit us should any future clientele happen to venture by.”

Of course. As for the flowers that I was tasked to order for the table…?

A pause. Vaz’s mouth opened briefly, then closed, then opened again to perform an abrupt cough before they dismissed the questions with a flourish of their hand. “I must be off soon, dear. Perhaps we can leave the rest of the inquiries for when I return?”

The quill twitched in response, a motion that over the years Vaz had come to understand was a show of mild exasperation from them. Though Vaz adored every one of their enchanted quills, Fi’Faltuun was almost as old as them at this point, and thus held no reservations over letting Vaz know what she thought of their decisions and musings. It was for this reason that they found mild surprise when the quill decided not to press further on the matter, instead drifting away to presumably return to her duties of managing the various inner workings of The Archives.

“Thank you, Fi. I trust you will have everything running as smoothly as always in my absence. Though do let me know if something unexpected pops up in the meantime.”

Of course, my scribe.

An accepting, polite dip of their head followed in acknowledgement. Vaz then turned on their heel and made for the exit. As they passed by the desk by the entrance they withdrew a sturdy, intricately-carved walking cane with one hand while the other patted around in their many-pocketed coat for where they’d last put the keys to the building. Though they could potter around indoors without too much trouble, sometimes old, ancient wounds liked to flare up unexpectedly during longer strolls or if they were forced to exert themself for any reason. Being able to at least rest some of their weight on said cane when it happened tended to make the journey more bearable.

Vaz exited the library, grumbling under-breath as they stepped out of the comforting, glowing warmth of The Quill Collective and into the dreary eternal-dusk of the city beyond it. They found that this particular location was not unlike the realm of demons itself, shielded from any inviting sort of lighting in exchange for the dim, ominous glow of everburning infernos in the distance. Even the atmosphere, though devoid of the usual stench of charcoal burning in the air, Vaz regarded as having a similarly dull, clammy sort of feeling against the skin of their mortal form.

A sigh escaped them, almost involuntary, as Vaz turned to jam their key into the lock of the library doors. Under breath they recited a simple warding incantation as the lock turned, brown eyes briefly glinting with gold as a hint towards the power imbued within the words. It was a weak one, any demon or angel worth their salt could likely still break in with little trouble, but it would be enough to at least dissuade any humans from trying to enter in their absence-

Without warning a hand brushed against Vaz’s arm. Startled, they yelped and and swung low with their cane, aiming to crunch it into the ankles of whoever had approached them. The new presence however merely took a graceful step backwards before they were able to make contact, as if they’d been predicting this exact kind of reaction from them. Vaz’s head snapped towards them, processing who it was in a single breath, before they huffed and pulled the cane to their side once more. “Good grief Xaal, I nearly set the quills on you!”

Before them stood a woman dressed in a simple, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and dark trousers that ended in thick, heavy boots. Briefly her shoulders trembled, silent amusement clearly escaping her despite the attempts to hide her grin by placing a hand over her mouth. It took a moment before she was able to properly form her reply because of it, eventually withdrawing her hand so that she could motion that she was sorry for startling them.

“I fail to see why my reaction has prompted amusement, my dear.” Huffed Vaz. In response Xaal just shook her head full of dark, thick curls of hair, trying to dismiss the question, but relented as Vaz continued to stare over at her while waiting for her answer.

< The sound. > She signed, still grinning. < Like a bird squawk. >

“I would hope you’re exaggerating, dear.” They sighed in response, though not before gesturing in the direction of the street ahead of them as an invitation to walk alongside them all the same. “Is there something you wish to discuss, dear? Or are we just taking a break from our duties for a few hours?”

Xaal pursed her lips in apparent thought, then provided little more than a shrug. A similarly non-detailed hum issued from the librarian in response, as they began to make their way down the path. “Were you waiting for me, then? Or simply passing through?”

< Keeping watch. > Explained Xaal, a furrow in her brow finally replacing the cheerful expression from before. < The humans say that Toll-Masters have been demanding many things from them lately. This is one of the places they warned against. >

“Hm…sounds like the work of Greed demons, if I had to make a wager.” Vaz replied. Briefly their concentration drifted, flipping through metaphorical pages in their head as they tried to recall whether they’d seen anything worth reporting to her as of late. “...I suspect they will have stationed themselves near the entrance to the city, or perhaps at the nearest places of interest to it. Make the best use of the desperation of those wanting to enter and take all that they can from them for it.”

A saddened nod of agreement followed from Xaal, her gaze shifting in the direction of said entrance at the prompt. Vaz knew that as per her duties as a Guardian, Xaal had already made the choice to linger in the vicinity of said entrance when on lookout duty. Though the both of them knew better than to inquiry too deeply into the other’s line of work, Vaz nonetheless had heard a few tales from the demons she’d already crossed paths with. Given how close The Quill Collective was to the entrance, and its advertised status as ‘neutral’ territory as long as people behaved themselves, it was not-uncommon for some weakened, once-proud two-horn of a demon to stumble into the entrance of the library at the early hours of the morning to complain about ‘that bloody angel’ while yanking out arrows from their bruised and battered forms.

It didn’t take long for Xaal to pause in her stride completely, grasping at Vaz’s arm to also stop them on their path. The librarian blinked a few times in response, surveying the area surrounding them, though they could find nothing that immediately stood out to them. “What? What is it? Have you sensed something, dear?”

< Distress. > Xaal replied, frowning, as she gestured in the direction of the entrance they had been discussing earlier. Brow creasing, Vaz followed her gaze, though unsurprisingly whatever it was that she had found was far beyond their range to know about it.

“And…?” Vaz prompted, albeit with a slightly resigned tone. They already knew what Xaal was about to ask them to do, even though she was still just gazing off into the distance. When her attention snapped back towards them, it was one of serious concern.

< They have many souls on hand. >

Of course they did. Vaz felt their shoulders sink a little in response. It was no secret that souls were what powered immortals, whether it was for turning the tides of the war in their favour or simply a rogue trying to make a living for themself. However, it was rare these days to find someone both capable of and willing to travel with more than a few at their disposal at a time. The only beings that Vaz felt would risk losing any more would be…

< Collector? >

Xaal finished their thought for them, prompting Vaz to glance aside and nod in agreement. “Perhaps. Though it has been a while since I crossed paths with one. I was starting to dread that they had disappeared entirely.”

< Do you have somewhere important to be? >

There it was. Vaz made a reluctant tut in response, before fishing out a golden pocket-watch from their coat. Tapping a sharp, talon-like finger to the top of the device flicked it open, and through their pointed teeth Vaz inhaled as they mulled over the chances of the encounter being a quick one for the pair.

“I do, in approximately half an hour.” They eventually replied. “...And given my usual punctuality, I fear my companion for the evening would fret were I to be more than a few mortal minutes late.”

< Can you not send him a message? >

“Well, perhaps, but he doesn’t have one of my quills on hand so…”

< With your phone. > Xaal continued, with an expression that successfully conveyed the level of exasperation she intended behind the motions. Vaz likewise matched the look, both individuals staring each other down, before Vaz eventually relented and withdrew the ancient, flip-lid device from another pocket with a wrinkled nose.

“I just find these things so confusing. Why don't they let you just use a quill on them?!” They complained, trying to simultaneously walk forward and text with of their claw-like nails in a manner that convinced Xaal she could witness the heat-death of the universe before they were done experimenting and pecking at the buttons one-at-a-time in the hopes of constructing the message they wanted. After an agonising minute of waiting for them to finish constructing their first sentence, Xaal gave up and snatched the phone out of their hands to finish the message off.

Recipient

me

Hi Jorath. Change of plans, small detour near entrance. Demons. Lots of souls on the line. Bring some jam tarts if you want to come. Vaz is moody - Xaal

She then handed the device back to Vaz, who wrinkled their nose over the message before shoving the phone back into their pocket. “Alright, but only because I understand the importance of this one, dear. I do not want you to start dragging me out here for every little scuffle you plan to get into while you’re stationed here.”

She nodded in acceptance of this, before gesturing to herself, Vaz, and then upwards to the sky. Vaz shook their head in response.

“I will walk.”

She quirked an eyebrow upwards, now making the sign for ‘owl’ before tapping on her outstretched forearm. A pause followed, just briefly, as Vaz mulled over the option. They then however shook their head once more, and gently nudged at her arm with their own hand as a prompt for her to lower it before they began to walk forward. Head turning aside, they caught a glimpse of her starting to follow in their peripherals before speaking once more. “Please do not fret, dear, just venture ahead and I will catch up shortly. Though I rather suspect you will have finished off whatever awaits us without my assistance by the time I do, regardless.”

Xaal’s shoulders sank, her head rolling in obvious critique towards her companion, though she made no further attempts to argue on the matter. Instead the shorter woman stepped forward and picked up the pace, soon placing some distance between the pair of them. As she passed by Vaz her form seemed to shimmer, as if a soft, reflective wave of golden light had briefly drifted over her, and the familiar script of her aura vanished into the dim-lit surroundings. It was not a perfect guise by any means, Vaz could still see her physical presence. And they knew from experience that many demons would easily pick up on a waft of celestial energy if they drew to a conversational distance. From afar though Xaal’s aura was now heavily masked, providing even a Tracker with a vague sense of her presence but not of her nature. For an immortal like Vaz, who without their glasses could scarcely make out an aura until they were standing a mere few strides away from another being, Xaal was practically invisible when she wanted to be.

Now, from Xaal’s back, two sets of feathered wings sprouted and stretched out into view. Immediately, regrettably, Vaz felt a pang of envy for them as their gaze drifted over the well-maintained, snow-white feathers with a thick peppering of brown and black speckles. It prompted them to slow their step, just for a moment, before they averted their gaze down some dim-lit, abandoned alleyway to help the feeling subside. There their gaze stayed focused, waiting until they sensed Xaal had taken to the sky before finally allowing themself to focus directly ahead of them once more.

By wing it took very little time for Xaal to reach the commotion, her Guardian nature allowing her to easily hone in on what looked to be two demons toying with a new arrival. Despite her keen eyesight, it was difficult to get a read on the faces of any of them, nor did she recognise any of the colour-splashes of their aura. One thing was for certain though, was that the scythe that the being had just summoned into existence was certainly on par with what one would expect a collector to be wielding, adding to her and Vaz’s theory as to the nature of the new arrival.

Xaal wasted little time as she descended onto a nearby rooftop, her hand outstretched to summon her own weapon into existence. By the time she landed upon it a bow had materialised in her grasp alongside of a quicker settled at her hip. From it she withdrew an arrow, not bothering to imbue it with any of her power, and instead deliberately firing it a few inches away from where the trio had started their fight. A last warning, should the demons be familiar with her steadily increasing local notoriety, before she started to aim for their vitals with the next one.

 

[ValidEmotions]

scroll

Argia

City Entrance

Every soul is a story to tell

Vazithrazuul & Xaaliel

The force of the shorter demon’s blow sent her backwards. Using the momentum, she leapt, vaulting so that her boots connected with the tall demon’s torso behind her. As he tumbled, Argia rolled with the impact, her scythe acting as a supportive staff to both control her movement and steady her balance. Before the tall demon could recover, she snatched at his torn coat to heft him up off the ground and shove him back towards his companion, catching the short demon by surprise as he charged towards her. The two demons collided as a result, collapsing into a tangled heap. Argia readied for another charge from the pair of demons, scythe brandished as the dark blade caught a glimmer of golden light. An arrow pierced into the asphalt of the street, hardly a couple inches away from the foot of the short demon as the pair untangled themselves and stood.

Argia watched as both demons’ gazes flitted upward to something behind her. The taller one snarled, sharp teeth exposed. The immortal’s aura–their endless and weaving Lifeline–seemed to fade into her awareness as if someone had removed a curtain or shroud to reveal it. It tickled against her senses, feeling like the velvet texture of flower petals and feathery down. A stark contrast to the iron- and copper-tinted auras of the demons standing before her; theirs felt more like rusted coins and tarnished metal clasps.

Silence had stretched between the four individuals for only a few heartbeats, just long enough for Argia to discern what entity the new Lifeline was. Though she could not be certain of the immortal’s intentions, it was clear enough that they were–as of yet–not intending any harm to her. It was enough to convince Argia of the security in her decision to not look back at the archer and maintain her gaze upon the two demons instead.

“I recommend heeding the warning issued to you…”

Both demons had risen to their feet, the shorter one pulling his sleeve over his hand before reaching down to yank the arrow free from the ground. As he did so, the taller demon’s gaze shifted back and forth between Argia and the newcomer beyond her. The taller demon spat at the ground a moment after, dagger spinning in his grasp as he appeared to adjust his hold. “Well, well,” the demon grumbled, a twitch tugging at his lip. He extended his arm out to the side, skin rippling like disturbed water and stretching. Argia’s gaze narrowed faintly as she watched the rapid, grotesque, morphing of flesh. It tore itself away from the demon’s fingers to plop upon the ground like goop, only for it to twist and curl itself into an identical picture of the demon it came from. The copy smirked at her, and she realized–

She’d made a mistake.

Argia swung her gaze back towards the short demon. White-hot fire lanced through her shoulder as she did so, the golden glow of the arrow sparking in the corner of her vision. Crying out, her hand snatched at the offended shoulder, before leaping back to dodge a slicing dagger in the next second. As she retreated, she swung her scythe at the charging demon with her other hand, working to prevent him from getting closer than her reach. It was either the Copy or the original demon; she couldn’t discern one from the other. The tall demon’s aura was shared between the two–no, three–forms that darted back and forth with striking daggers.

She was again twisting and side-stepping, ducking and jumping, to avoid attacks from both the tall and short demon. A stolen glance past her assailants showed the other two tall demon duplicates hurrying for the snowy-winged angel. Swallowing down the tremor of pain from her shoulder, Argia gripped her scythe with both hands and brought it down in an angled slash. The curved blade clashed against a stream of glinting metal, one end of it clutched within the short demon’s fist. Now, at least, she had a better sense of what either demon could do.

The cropped jacket Argia wore began to shift, fabric splitting apart and texturizing into dark brown feathers, lighter shades of brown streaking through like highlights. As wings flared out behind her, the shorter demon seemed to briefly balk. It was an opening. Wings beating, she weaved around the tall demon’s dagger swipe, scythe fragmenting and dissipating like a mirror shattered. With both hands, she snatched at the short demon’s coat just as she dove into him. Momentum carried them further, her wings angling to sweep them upward above the rooftops. The demon snarled at her, claws gouging into her hands and arms in an attempt to break her hold.

As they rose, Argia’s eyes glinted in the artificial night, shining with a dark glow.

“Those souls do not belong to you....”

Before the demon made any sort of response, Argia released one hand from her hold of his coat. Similar to her eyes, her hand took on a dark glow and ethereal claws seemed to extend in place of her fingers. The demon struggled in her grasp until she struck, ethereal claws seeming to pass through his chest and seizing his body.

Argia felt his Lifeline drain, the tarnished texture seeming to heat until the point of melting. It scalded against her senses. And then, as quickly as it had burned, the demon's Lifeline vanished entirely, and his body went limp. Near simultaneously, her ethereal claws took on a blue shimmer, flickers of blue flame steadily growing as Soulfires began forming. She could sense each one--dozens that had been snatched up by the demon. His soul led the line, a flickering sphere of green flame. It was speckled with shades of red and laced with black cracks. It wasn't the first demon soul Argia had held. But, once more, she couldn't escape the subtle discomfort of wrong that scratched at her senses as she held it.

The demon's soul floated to hover above her shoulder as the mortal souls were absorbed into her pendant. Not many made it, however, as sharp pain erupted in Argia's back, causing her body to spasm and her grip on the dead demon to release. As she shouted out, the unclaimed soulfires scattered, spreading out towards the rest of the city as if fleeing and disappearing from sight. Argia dropped back to the ground with a heavy thud, wings arching to act as shields while she attempted to reach for the dagger making a sheath out of her back. Quickly she found the hilt, gripped it between the three fingers that could touch it, and then tore it free to let it clatter upon the sidewalk.

She started to rise back up, gaze searching for the other demon as her scythe materialized back in hand, only to spot his form crumpling to the ground. Argia's gaze followed the shaft of an arrow protruding from his body over to the immortal it belonged to. Her wings carefully folded close to her back before melding back into the cropped jacket she'd been wearing. (She would need to inspect it for any damage once she had a proper moment to do so.)

"Have I an ally to thank,”

Argia began, grip faintly tightening upon the staff of her weapon.

“Or another gatekeeper to seek passage through?”

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Lycanious]

Xaal

Golden eyes narrowed as the shorter of the demons moved to grasp at the arrow she had fired, having the foresight to place the fabric of his sleeve between it and his bare flesh. It signalled to Xaal that said demon was, at the very least, one with some measure of experience behind him. Many a two-horned nuisance had made the mistake of trying to grasp at a celestial weapon with their bare hands, after all, and suffered what looked to be some nasty burns in the process.

One of the demons, the taller one, muttered under his breath. Despite the distance Xaal was able to catch the gist of the sound, largely in thanks to the hearing granted to her by her avian counterpart, and thus switched her focus to him first. With the tip of her bow she gestured for him to stand back from where it was pointed. Such a request went ignored, however, and instead Xaal watched as the demon gestured wide with his arm and a sensation of infernal energy started to gather from his chest down the outstretched limb. She couldn’t help but wrinkle her brow in displeasure as she watched the flesh along it pucker and twist, morphing as it travelled until the excess growth slumped off from the tips of his fingers and hit the ground below with a nauseating squelch of sound.

Uncertain of what the result would be, Xaal took the action as a form of aggression and moved to draw another arrow from the quiver at her hip. By the time she had loaded her bow the mass of flesh had morphed itself into a copy of the demon, prompting a grimace from her in response. She’d dealt with larger numbers on her own, granted, and having the advantage of flight and a long-range weapon was by far the most powerful assets for that. The showcase of the demon’s unique abilities had made her quickly realise that she had failed to even out the numbers as much as she had been hoping for.

Just as a cry of pain ran out her hand released the arrow she had readied, prompting a faint flinch from Xaal as she gawked back over at the presumed Collector on the ground below. The projectile breezed just past its mark as the clone found time to dart to the side, embedding itself into the ground like its predecessor. A scowl followed, and Xaal this time launched herself up into the air with wings flared out to catch the wind. With the grace worthy of a Guardian her age she pulled into a silent glide down closer to the street, drawing a third arrow from her quiver as she did. She would have to get closer, risking drifting within range, but giving the demons less time to react.

At least her movement seemed to have split the growing numbers. Glancing aside she was able to catch sight of a third clone starting to materialise, before it and one of the other copies started to rush after her. Xaal wasn’t sure whether either of them was the original demon, nor what would happen if one was slain, but nonetheless she took the opportunity to dip her wings to the side and swerve hard around the perimeter of a nearby building. Xaal kept banking hard to the right-hand side, cutting a tight circle around said building until she had doubled back to now place herself behind the duo of demons. One had started to clamber up the side of another building, presumably for the sight vantage, but another lingered on the ground to scout out their surroundings.

It was the latter that she fired her next arrow at, this time catching him in the back of his shoulder. The demon convulsed and cried out, its form rapidly deteriorating back into an amorphous smear of fleshy parts and infernal ichor as Xaal swooped overhead. She turned once more, eyes drifting towards the other instance of the demon that had followed, but finding that she had lost sight of him in the brief moment it took to dispose of the first clone. She flew onwards, glancing down a few alleyways, but ultimately it seemed as if the second individual had gotten away.

A soft, blue glow darted past her peripherals. Xaal slowed to a hover as her head turned to chase after the vision, spying a glimmer of a blue orb darting away from her in an erratic, frantic movement pattern. Another whizzed past her head on the other side, and then a third above her head. Soulfires. Xaal realised. Either the demon holding them or the Collector had just been dissipated by the other. Quickly she veered around and flew back to where she’d last seen the trio, abandoning the chase for the souls in the hopes that she could, at least, spare the Collector. It would be far easier to track and recapture them all with her aid, after all, if Xaal could convince her to do-so.

By the time she had returned she found the Collector had thumped into the ground, and what looked to be the singular threat left to deal with. She was quick to draw her fourth arrow as the demon scrambled forward, this time taking a further moment to imbue the arrow with some of her magic before releasing it. The arrow caught the demon in the neck, his shocked gasp silenced by its spell, before the celestial magic within flared and seared a sizable wound at the impact point. The demon swiftly collapsed, leaving what looked to be just Xaal and the Collector still standing.

For a few more breaths she continued to hover. Scanning the area for the remaining clone, or any signs that they had more accomplaces lurking somewhere in the shadows. When it seemed to have grown quiet she allowed herself to descend, landing delicately upon the ground several meters away from the Collector. Xaal studied her for a moment, mostly out of sheer curiosity, before she reached down towards the demon she had slain and withdrew the arrow from its now limp form. Her nose wrinkled as more foul-smelling ichor oozed into view and coated the arrow tip, prompting her to take a moment to wipe it on a clean patch of the demon’s clothing before returning it to her quiver. With a twirl of her hand she then dismissed both components of her weapon, and turned to face the Collector over her questioning.

Now, this was sometimes the trickier part. Briefly she glanced over her shoulder, trying to discern whether Vaz had managed to catch up yet. From afar she could faintly see their ink blotch of an aura weaving its way down the side-streets, but not near enough to engage in conversation.

Shoulders slouched, faintly, before Xaal decided to just make the best of the situation as she could and held up her hand. She motioned ‘one’ with her finger, indicating the first question, before nodding in agreement. She then counted ‘two’ with the same hand for the Collector’s second question, but this time shook her head from side to side. She hoped it would be enough to convince the other individual that she meant no harm towards them, despite her attitude towards the demons mere moments before.

Troubled over how to continue the conversation from there, Xaal eventually decided to gesture towards the pendant that the Collector wore. She recalled seeing other Collectors wearing similar items of jewelry once upon a time, and that they often utilised such items for storing the souls they were scheduled to collect. She hoped she had guessed correctly. Nonetheless, she then gestured back towards the city with a wide, sweeping motion of her hand, before clasping both together abruptly, as if catching something that had been thrown at her.

Xaal then stood at ease and looked over at the Collector with a wrinkled brow, hoping she at least got the gist of what she was trying to ask.

---

Vaz

Despite the flurry of movement from Xaal, Vaz maintained a slow, almost leisurely stroll in the general direction she had flown. Partially out of reluctance to engage with the actual fight, but mostly because they just weren’t really the sort that was built to go dashing about galliantly or throw about a few impertinent two-horns without the aches in their joints giving them an outcry for it later. The fallen angel’s mind started to drift as they continued onwards. Before their vision danced the pages of books and loose outlines of the shelves of the Archives as they walked, their eyes glazed as they continued to sort and sift through its contents even whilst removed from the realm out of the neverending drive to do-so whenever their mind grew idle.

It caused them to miss the first few soulfires that darted by them. It was only when one narrowly avoided thumping into their temple did Vaz find themself abruptly pulled from apparitions of the Archives and instinctively reaching up to pluck the wayward projectile out of the air before it managed to dart away from them.

Ink-stained, talon-like fingers tensed and grasped around the soulfire as Vaz processed what it was they were holding, a frustrated huff of air escaping from Vaz as they did their best to try to contain it within the palm of their hands. For them it was often a bit like trying to hold jelly, a solid clump in one moment and then slipping and sliding through the gaps in their fingers and around the sides of their hand in the next. “I would suggest, dear, that if you want some semblance of mercy from me then you stop squirming about so much.” Vaz informed the soul as they nearly lost their grip on it for the third time.

Vaz could tell just from the way it twitched about that the soul within their grasp was one of the feistier ones they had come across. They could hardly claim to be an expert on reading them compared to a seasoned Collector, but the demon had certainly picked up on a few little quirks and telltale signs of behaviour from them over the years. Stubborn. Defiant. Reckless. All traits they could discern from its movements, and begin to form a little thread of knowledge that let Vaz better take hold of the soul as they paused in their gait and continued to gaze down at it.

“Oh come now, no need to be so dramatic about this.” Sighed the demon, now holding the soul out to dangle at the tips of their clawed hand by way of a thread of knowledge that had now made itself known to Vaz. It was far from a perfect method, but the more Vaz knew of an individual soul the easier the former angel found to take hold of it. They drew the soul up until it was eye-level with them, an intrigued expression overtaking as a glint of gold briefly glittered from their gaze. “Now, what little secrets are we hiding, hm? Perhaps we can strike up some sort of deal for them-”

“Out here all alone are we, Vazithrazuul?”

The inquisitive old demon paused, an audible click in their neck sounding as they turned their head until their chin rested over their shoulder in an unnatural manner. Before their gaze stood another demon of some vague recognition, a script of harsh, scratchy charcoal on old paper drifting through Vaz’s consciousness as their eyes locked. Thin lips pulled tighter, Vaz glancing the new individual up and down in a wary manner, before gradually the rest of their corporeal form swivelled around to face them as well.

“Rather depends on your definition, dear, and metrics for proximity.” They hummed in response, to which the new arrival rolled their eyes.

“So, yes, then, I take it.”

“If that’s what you want to believe, dear, you are welcome to do so.” Vaz continued, matching the challenging gaze that followed with one of their own. From their hand they held out the soul between the two of them, an eyebrow quirking upwards. They hoped it masked the thread of unease that was starting to weave through their consciousness, as they realised that Xaal was likely too far away right now to realise that Vaz had stumbled into the path of one of the many soul-starved demons that lingered the streets of the city.

Said demon stepped forward, forgoing the facade of pleasantries in favour of instead reaching outwards for the soul. Vaz responded by easing back their hand and instead using their other to thump the top of their cane into the sternum of the demon and stop his path. His hunger devolved to displeasure, ire evident as red eyes flicked from the soulfire, to the cane, and then into the tired gaze of Vaz before him. A chuckle sounded, the demon’s maw splitting into a wide, fanged grin. “You’re a lot less cocky when you ain’t got someone to cower behind, huh?” Mused the demon, before abruptly surging forward and snapping his now unhinged jaws towards the soul.

The next few seconds were a blur to Vaz’s mind, save for the defining trait of a sharp, shooting pain in their arm as they tried and failed to manoeuvre it out of the way in time. A sharp cry sounded as ink-like ichor burst from the bite wound, their grip on the soul lost as it took the opportunity of the near-miss of Vaz’s hand to dart away and head for the sky once more. Their attacker unlatched their jaw and tried to unsuccessfully swipe for the soulfire as it fled, before turning back towards Vaz with an accusatory glare. Vaz meanwhile took the opportunity to wrench their arm back and bring their cane swinging forward in a swift, sharp motion, but the demon was far quicker than they could properly process and easily deflected the blow by grasping onto the cane to slow its path.

For a moment the two struggled, but it soon became apparent that the charcoal-scented demon had the upper-hand on raw strength. Again he surged forward, this time grabbing Vaz by collar of their jacket and shoving them into the wall of the building beside the pair of them. “You better have another soul to cough up instead.” He hissed, hand reaching to grab at one of the horns that had now sprouted from Vaz’s forehead. “Otherwise I’ll be- ARGH!”

Predictably, the demon’s grasp around one of Vaz’s horns had seared at the flesh of his hand. He flinched back, his grip loosening enough for Vaz to grit their own fangs together and drop their grip on the cane in favour of forcing the palm of their hand into the chest of the demon before them. From their mouth a simple incantation weaved, the language of angels flowing from them, before a golden light pulsed from their hand and a sound like thunder cracked through the air. The momentum of their attack was enough to send the demon stumbling several feet away from them, hand clutching at their chest as several profanities were barked out in response.

Another spark of soft, blue light streaked past the pair. Both of their gazes snapped towards it, but it was the other demon that chose to disengage in order to chase after it. Evidently he was, indeed, starving. Enough that he had decided to abandon the sudden scuffle in favour of closing in on his meal before it too got away.

Rather stunned, Vaz took a second to catch their breath and press the back of their head up against the brick of the building behind them. Their eyes closed for a moment, slowly reopening only when they found the need to gingerly reach down and make a grab for their cane once more. Resting it against the wall beside them they finally turned their gaze down to their hand, grimacing at the sizable bite-mark that circled their wrist and drew still their ink-like ichor from the wound. Vaz glanced about and started to pat around in their pockets with their uninjured hand, but quickly reasoned that they didn’t have anything on their person that they were willing to sacrifice to wrap up the wound.

A hefty, frustrated sigh issued from them, and instead they began to ease away from the wall in favour of trailing after Xaal once more. With any luck she’d have at least dealt with whatever was happening up ahead. Further luck, and she might have even had the foresight to pack some bandages before her nightly Guardian duties.

Vaz stumbled onto the duo some small time after the incident, looking a little woozy and trailing at their side drops of ichor that, upon hitting the ground, seemed to form a trail of letters and runes in a nonsensical pattern. Amber eyes flicked up and down, absorbing the Collector’s appearance for a moment, while Xaal quickly took it upon herself to motion that they were, in fact, a friend and not another demon that needed to be disposed of by the pair before she darted over to inspect Vaz’s hand injury in closer detail.

“I assume the two of you dealt with whatever pests were lurking around here, hm?” Vaz hummed as Xaal fretted, calloused hands turning their wrist back and forth to assess the extent of the damage. “Careful, dear, I don’t want to get ichor on your favourite shirt now.” They then sighed, before their attention slowly drifted back towards the far less familiar acquaintance. “Rest assured, I’ve currently no intentions of challenging you for whatever souls you have on hand.” Vaz informed. “Merely that it is something of an interest of mine to ensure that my primary threats and competitors aren’t gorging themselves on a feast of soulfires.” They then added, before shifting their gaze towards the sky. “I spotted two of them on the journey over, I take it a few of them escaped your clutches dear…?”