It's Not About Control (closed to Dissinger)

[Skie and Avery]

Dofir had been peaceful under the watch of a waxing moon. Malagaste Ouss’ervsth enjoyed the quiet. The jail cells in the room sat empty, steel barred doors left flung open to invite their next guest. Light danced in the single window across from the cells, the movement of patrons in the streets between the building and the street lanterns casting shadows to dance on the stone walls. The braziers in the room were only half lit, and beneath one the Drow sat at his desk with a book open in his lap.

The wood was stained here and there with ink, marred with scratches. Once it had been covered in parchment but now they were arranged in neat stacks. There were many nights like this in the sleepy station, where the Drow found himself alone with his thoughts and time. The crackling of the torches in their holdings was his companion, and here and there they were visited by the shuffling of pages. He’d stopped to rub at his lilac eyes, ringed with dark circles, for a moment when a hiss and whoosh let him know that one of the torches had gone out. He placed the book on the table.

L'Elge d'Lloth

Crossing the room, he removed the torch and inspected it. The wrappings had yet to be burned through, but that wasn’t uncommon. The torch was positioned by the high window, where the breeze was known to sneak in, a thief in the night to steal warmth and light. He worked quickly to change the dressings and reset the torch with a neighbor, fitting it into the iron brazier once more. The mundane task was second nature now, and within minutes he’d turned back to his desk, eager to get back to the book he’d left behind.

However, the battered tome, bound in a deep amethyst with silver lettering upon the spine, was no longer resting on the desktop. It was in the hands of a stranger who reclined back with scuffed and stained boots resting on top of the desk. The stranger was thumbing through the pages, a bored expression in grey eyes before he snapped his gaze up at Malagaste though the fringes of brown hair that fell over his forehead. He smiled, but it felt no more like a smile than the expression on a snake. The Drow noticed that one of the stranger’s cheeks was scarred, and it didn’t dimple the way the other side did with the gesture.

The Drow slowly let his hand move, his fingers brushing against the grip of the revolver holstered at his side. Silver brows narrowed, his mouth sneering. He’d never met this man, but he could take a guess or two who it might be.

“Seth Dahlios, the Vasvrae.” He said, nodding his head in greeting, gesturing at the open steel doors of the cells. “If you’ve come to turn yourself in, you have the pick of your accommodations.”

[Dissinger]

“Bloodsmith? That's a new one, I like it, has a nice ring to it. Not as impressive as the Lyesmith, but has a charm all its own,” Seth responded. Malagaste to his credit didn't flinch at the candid nature of the conversation and instead let the Lavinian Demon continue, “I'm more here because well, I thought I'd be rid of this shithole and I'm still here. Frankly it has to do with our mutual acquaintance.”

“Sariya Surulinath,” The drow officer put forth. Seth seemed to frown for a moment as his mind fired into overdrive before his face lit up;

“Oh, right, yes her. I'm here because you obviously can't protect her, and she needs to learn to care for herself.”

“Why would I need to protect the rivvil?” Malagaste shot back.

“Oh, so you guys aren't...” Seth gestured with his hand as Malagaste took his turn frowning before he shook his head.

“No, we are not.”

“Well that makes this very easy. You're a distraction, a bad one at that. I can't have that if I'm teaching the girl how to kill.”

“Kill? Now you're admitting to training her to commit murder?”

“Self defense, teaching her to cripple is useless against some of Ettermire and don't you dare lie to my face and tell me otherwise. We both know the kinds of assholes that frequent the back alleys.”

Malagaste seemed to tense while Seth remained still. His hand never leaving the holstered revolver as he frowned, “I should just end this farce here and now-”

“It has one bullet.”

“What?”

Seth carefully lifted a gauntlet clad hand and let it opne letting the soft clinking of bullets falling onto the desk resound through the room as he carefully sat up and pushed back the chair. He then continued, “I'm here to make a deal with you Malagaste. See, she's kinda fond of you and I'm not. But that creates a problem because you have the reach of the law so firmly up your ass your name might as well be Mitt.”

“Meanwhile you are so chaotic and rebellious one would wonder how you go anywhere without cutting somebody or yourself,” Malagaste fired back, the tension going one step closer to a true fight, “I think it would be polite to inform you my backup will show up soon, and then you're in trouble.”

“Usstan zhahus plu'dakus a l'Valsharess' Kyorl. Natha drada nesst orn hass'l naubol ulu uns'aa, fridj jalbyr k'jiar d'vlos...”

He raised an eyebrow before he asked, “Who taught you to speak my tongue? Its rough, but practical, almost militaristic in tenor.”

“Ghuantyrr'stra Do'afin,” He replied with a shrug. “Also, our relationship really needs to build more trust, your backup isn't due for ten minutes. Long enough to gut you and be long gone.”

“How do you-”

“Do the words 'World Class Thief' mean nothing to you? Did you think I just up and decided to meet with you one day for tea and crackers? First off, I hate tea, and secondly I'm kinda picky when it comes to the crackers I enjoy. Now, to the point. I promise not to kill anyone who doesn't have the ability to kill me, you included. In return I need you to keep the heat off me until I finish training our friend to fight. It won't be easy and there may be incidents because she has magic she hasn't even conceived of in her. Now, do we have a deal? Or do I need to make like a thief and leave?”

“How do you plan on doing that? I highly doubt you can train her in magic at all,” Malagaste snarled at the Thief Extraordinaire.

“Listen, Mal, and I'm going to just call you Mal because really I don't care enough to give you your full name. You can argue this with me, or we can agree and your death count over the next few weeks drops to manageable levels. Otherwise well, I'm not saying I'm going out looking for fights, but its far easier to kill than disable,” Seth quipped while stretching forward a hand as he looked at the one on the gun, his own lightly fingering the end of a blades hilt on his.

Malagaste narrowed his eyes as he looked upon the thief before he carefully reached forward with the hand that was going for the gun and shook it. He then muttered, “It's for her, otherwise I'd have you in chains.”

Seth smiled that predatory grin before he leaned forward and whispered, “You can try.”

[Skie and Avery]

“It’s not a big deal,” Skie said, jerking her elbow from the hex mage’s hands. He’d been inspecting the gash along her right shoulder, stitched somewhat skillfully by her own hand and healing in a thick, ugly scab. She’d been walking back home on the market, stopping here and there to admire the glow of torchlight floating among the clouds as airships moved in the night when she’d been held up by some joker with a hood and an inflated sense of power. “Just this damn shoulder doesn’t want to reach the way it should. I still sent him packing, and got home fine. I can take care of myself. You don’t need to fret.”

Her lips pursed and she bristled at the look he gave her. She hated when he was patronizing, and his attitude had been locked and loaded from the moment he’d stepped through her door. Something must have happened recently that amused him, she thought. After all, it was when Seth Dahlios was in a good mood that he played with her like a cat cornering a canary. There was never a taste of such playfulness when his temper was fouled.

“You’re being a mother hen.” She said, crossing her arms and leaning back on the railing of her balcony. The breeze was gentle, and below them there were children playing along the bank of the river as the sun flared gold and garnet, painting the sky and the rocky shore on its way to the horizon. The scene before them was the reason she was so hesitant to move away from here, even though she knew she was being watched. She had figured the subject of her address was why the thief had come calling, though he’d been distracted by her wounded arm.

“If you are hurt, I need to know so I don’t kill you if I try and push you and force a change,” he growled, irritation seeping through the blithe callousness he’d been goading her with. She softened, and sighed.

“It’s just a cut on my arm, promise,” she said, then laughed and wagged a finger at her. “But what do you mean, force a change? Are you a fairy godmother, come to craft me into a good girl?”

“You have magic in you,” he answered, ignoring her teasing. “The spontaneous kind. It’s more ordered than my kind, but the principle is the same. If I put you under enough stress it will push back to protect you. Selfish bastard magic is, doesn’t like leaving where it is.” She couldn’t help but shiver, a chill moving down her spine. She’d seen Seth work, been at his mercy once and then watched as he tore apart a room of demons. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to work at putting stress on her. Didn’t she have enough turmoil without anyone’s effort?

“Why not leave well enough alone?” she sighed. “What’s in it for you?”

“You’re more dangerous to everyone around you when you have no concept of your gift. Technically you could kill someone because you have no clue how it works.” He leveled his gaze at her, his look hard enough to make her fidget uncomfortably. “I remind you, if it weren’t for the fact you had no clue what you were doing I’d be dead. You won’t always get lucky and be able to undo what you did.”

Unfair, she thought. She’d never meant to harvest Seth’s soul with a kiss in the first place. She’d never asked or sought to be born with her father’s curse. Truth be told, their first encounter only fueled her hesitation now. She was happy to be his friend, to have coffee and bitch about the weather. She was fine with being a lover, having him help her leave her sheets in a mess and bid away physical longing. The idea of allowing him to craft her into an apprentice was terrifying. He kept her at arm’s length, and she did the same. Their time involved things in common that didn’t scratch far under the surface, and that seemed safer. If she fell in love with him, she’d kill him.

She didn’t understand back when they’d battled before that her demonic heritage kept the Starslayer curse on a hair-trigger, the way a succubus worked was rooted in love. Now that side of her had been burned away, and she could live as a human, but the stars still moved in the sky and the first dots of the morning star and the rising moon on the sunset horizon were a reminder to her that getting close to Seth would be more dangerous for him than simply an avenue for heartbreak. She wasn’t sure if she was okay with spending that sort of time in the Lavinian’s presence.

“You make a good point,” she ceded, rubbing at her eyes as she realized he’d been waiting for her answer while she thought. “Alright. Start pushing, then. I’m hard to kill.”

[Dissinger]

Gauntlet clad fist lashed out quickly, hitting Skie in her face. An arm rose to immediately check for bleeding, and the reaction was to use her wounded arm. Immediately, she hissed in pain, before the hand grabbed the arm, and twisted eliciting a cry of pain to issue from her mouth. With careful maneuvering she was on the ground, forced to a knee, for Seth to do with as he pleased. He looked impassively down at her his eyes burning with a bit of anger. Her hair formed a curtain about her face while the sound of metal upon metal could be heard.

“I don't need your permission. Its not like you could stop me anyways. As it stands you're only setting us back a few weeks,” Seth replied firmly. His grip never slacked on the arm, even as Skie winced at the treatment. She struggled only to see the knife stop and tap against the wound causing her to cry out in pain. Seth remained still as the knife began to twirl again. The indigo orbs glared up at him as he shrugged casually. “Please princess, this isn't like the monks. I'm not here to treat you nice and play stupid games hoping you'll learn the lessons. You will or you wont, and I won't be held responsible for the consequences.”

She remained silent, even as the necklace about Seth's neck fell out of his shirt. He frowned looking at the small piece of bone that hung from the leather cord and the way it hovered over Skie. His eyes narrowed before he finally let her go in a vulgar stream of drow expletives.

“Are you fucking insane? You've been holding it all in? No wonder whenever it shows itself it's violent displays of power. You keep the damn thing in so when it does leak out, its the strong stuff!” Seth finally managed. He shook his head before he let her go with a grunt of frustration. He slapped a ahnd on the railing of the balcony before he shook his head, “It's obvious you have no clue what you can do. You haven't even tried touching that power. Do you even know how to manifest it? Do you even have a clue about it?”

He leaned against the railing and looked at her before he said, “Probably not, which means I have to break into a few places. Thaynes be damned you don't make this easy...”

[Skie and Avery]

She didn’t know what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t a fist to the face right there and then. When the pain went from blinding, dizzying, to an explosion of unwanted sensation, she longed to hate him. She hated his callousness, the way he called her a princess, and the weird sense of smug satisfaction it felt like he got from keeping her ranked and filed. She couldn’t quite summon hate, though, for the hardhearted thief. He was her best friend, even if he was a strong argument for her need to pick better friends.

The leash that kept her anger at bay was warm and compassionate. If it were tangible, it would smell like worn leather and country air. Now she knew that Seth could sense it too, the mental cage that kept her from lashing out. What did he honestly expect? She’d struck him before, and nearly ended him. His strength had more than doubled, spiraling endlessly past anything she could ever imagine, and he was absolutely not the same mage that she first faced. Still, there was the nagging worry that she would do something that couldn’t be undone. Why couldn’t he understand that? Isn’t that what he himself said?

Skie stood before she would dare speak to him. Like hell she’d acknowledge a word he said while she was on her knees. Grasping the iron railing and staring down at the foam that splashed and rippled on the surface of the river below, she was vaguely aware of the heated stare at her face. More weapon than man, she’d heard someone say about him. Damn if she hadn’t slipped and let the pointy end slice her palm.

“I don’t want to use it against you,” she said quietly. Before he could argue, she shook her head and held up a hand to stay his words. “Besides, I don’t even know what it would do to you. I think it works best against demons, and you’re not that kind of demon. Like the Beauty. They don’t have souls, and I.. did something. I don’t even know what I did, but I know that you’re not like them. You have a soul. I should know, I can’t stand to eat saltwater candy anymore.”

She didn’t dare smile. A tight, angry feeling had been spreading across the top of her nose and across a cheekbone. She’d bruise, she knew for sure. She’d have to avoid Malagaste, who’d fret and she surely did not want to see a Drow in distress. That left her with Seth. She wanted to tell him that if she was so difficult, he could just take a hike, but she wasn’t ungrateful for his help and Thayne help her that she wanted him around even if he was a sanctimonious ass.

“So where do we start? You’re not doing this alone. I earn my keep.”

[Dissinger]

“All the more reason to train you in it. You have no clue what it does, and you have no clue how to control it. Keeping it boxed in is worse than trying and doing something horrible, because at least you can figure out what is going on. If you don't respect the power in you, you wont be able to stop it when it wants to rear its ugly head. Be it give a Demon a soul, or siphon the soul from a man trying to be a demon.” He pointedly made note of the two cases he saw her use it. Pointing out just the kinds o stuff she had been doing. He turned to look across the city as he sighed and leaned against he Balcony's railings ignoring his compatriot for a brief moment.

The moon peeked through the clouds, offering its feeble light to the city of darkness about them. He spied huddled groups moving through alleyways, some trying to avoid fights, some looking for fights. It was a city of violence, had been for a long time, since the Valsharess' death. It allowed people like Seth greater freedom, as the city guard were more on edge than usual, more stretched thin, more willing to let things go rather than continue to work on their seventh day, hoping tomorrow they'd be told to not come in.

He ignored her, letting the comments seep in, hoping she'd realize what he was telling her before he finally spoke, “The Black Library. If Devon danSabriel had any dealings with the Valsharess, she'd have kept a clean record of those dealings in there. It's most likely in the restricted section, though from what I hear its more active now. The current King is trying hard to figure out what his dear old mother was up to before he killed her. Sloppy job if you ask me, considering he lost the Kyorl and several key officials in the coup.”

He thought he spied her mouth opening before he continued, “If we know who handled the proceedings, and know who worked with him in the field we can figure out how he used his magic. If we have that knowledge its a simple matter of putting the right stresses on you to get you used to channeling and controlling its flow. We aren't going to get much, as magic loves shaking things up, but it might give us a clue as to what you're capable of.”

Finally he turned to her, “We're going to need your buddy to help us. He might be able to pull a guard rotation for us, and speed us up a few days. Hate to say it but your little pet Drow might be quite useful for once. In the meantime rest your arm, throw a bit of meat on the bruise and work on some of that Nito charm I hear your mother was so famous for. You may not have pheromones to drug him, but I'm sure you have a few tricks in the arsenal.”

He knew that last order would rankle her, especially so soon after mocking her for being royalty. Realistically he was done talking about the situation, it was only going to go in one huge circle. Instead he wanted to be out there, infiltrating the black library, finding information on this and moving on.

[Skie and Avery]

Her features had twisted, just slightly. The crinkle of her nose forced it into a more pointed shape, her teeth bared. Despite the burning away of demonic artifacts from her banishment, her teeth still had the just-barely-inhuman sharpness to them. Now they accented her feral anger, the heat rising to her cheeks, and the icy darkness that tinged her eyes. The demoness may have been cleansed, but the ghosts of what was still cast their shadows.

“Be careful what you wish for, vith jindurn.” She hissed, despite knowing that he probably didn’t care at all. The Demon was a bannerman for houses that she’d never seen burn. It was usually the best part about him. She’d rather be her own champion, and with her curse she launched herself from the railing and made the few steps to the door of the flat. The wind was teasing at them when she turned, shoving her hair from her face so that she could give him a dispassionate last glance, her anger still on display.

“If you bite as well as you bark, we might get this done quickly.” He chuckled, waving off her insult.

“I’m off to Dofir, I’ll return with or without a Drow. Best behavior when you meet him. I’m not in the mood to mop up a bloodbath. Lock my door behind you. I hope it hits you in the ass on your way out.” It was hard not to growl at him, keeping her voice level. It was harder still to keep from reaching out and throwing him over the edge of the balcony to the rocky street below, as if she could.

She slipped into the apartment, the balcony door slamming behind her. She didn’t dare turn to look through the pane of glass to see Seth’s face. The satisfied grin was already hovering in her mind’s eye, and it only fueled her anger. She grabbed her sword from by the door, and the pack that always held just enough gold for renting a quick horse for a few days. A mechanical whir from the hazy sunlight glowing from the bedroom around the corner caught her attention and she clicked her tongue.

“Suru’nisha. Tiu’xa.” She called. The clockwork crows she’d bought at auction came soaring in on the tinkling flutter of their dark wings. They were tiny representations of true corvids, and each took a perch on a shoulder. The intelligence shining in their onyx eyes was simply an illusion, a reflection of her own control, but they made traveling alone a little less boring. Remembering how Seth reacted to the cut on her arm, she was sure that having the extra defense would be in her best interests.

---

“So tell me,” she said later that evening as she slid onto the desk Malagaste had been working at, careful not to let her thigh slip over the paper he’d been writing, his neat bold script showing as tight control as his actions ever had. “Do you often get books from the restricted section?”

Malagaste let his violet eyes flick to where she’d nodded at the stack of tomes sitting at the edge of his desk. There were a couple whose pages were dog-eared, but most of them were fitted with ribbon and paper bookmarks. The difference between a library book and a personal book, Skie thought, though she’d never guessed the Drow to be one to crease the pages of his personal copies. Perhaps he were more interesting than he let on.

“Why do you ask?” he questioned casually, going back to the report before him. He paused at each line, letting the feathered tip of his quill brush across her thigh before he began to write. Skie smiled, leaning forward so that she could lower her voice. This time there were other guards moving around the room, one sweeping an empty cell, the other refilling casks of water.

“I’m going on a library trip with a friend, and I need to get in there to find something.”

She watched as he held his breath and leaned back in his chair. The quill was left on the dark oak desk, his hands crossed in front of his immaculately pressed uniform. “The friend I know of?” he asked. She knew well his opinion of Seth, though they hadn’t met. She nodded, ever so slightly. Malagaste sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes as if a headache were coming on.

“Don’t be a dalhar,” she teased and shoved his shoulder playfully. “It’s for me, not him. I just need information, I’m not going to take anything. About my dad.”

“Why would anything..” the Drow started, but Skie interrupted.

“There must be something. It might not be what I’m looking for, but he did battle with Thoracis Rakarth, Alerar’s favored son, right? There’s going to be at least a passing mention.”

Malagaste stared at her for a long moment. She held his eyes, making sure to smile innocently. He didn’t have to know why she wanted to know more about Devon, though she wasn’t sure he’d be so opposed to what she needed to accomplish. He had, after all, only barely saved her from the jaws of a drake not that long ago, the skin along her ribs still tinted with the ugly bruise she’d walked away from the encounter with.

“Alright, I can help,” he said, shaking his head. His sheared silver hair fell over his forehead and she grinned truly this time as she reached out and brushed them back to the side. “But,” he added grabbing her wrist and staring hard, his brows furrowing. “I insist on being there as well. Besides, if you need as much time as I believe you do, you will need my authority.”

“So it’s a date?” she cooed happily, sliding off the desk when he sighed and rolled his eyes, her smile still locked on her face. Maybe Seth hadn’t been quite so wrong.

[Dissinger]

“Nothing in this one either,” The words echoed through the small room as another book was heavily dropped upon a pile. A gauntlet clad hand grabbed the next tome roughly as a black hand slapped upon the top of it. Stormy grey matched with violet hues while the two looked at each other. Finally he spoke, “Can I help you?”

“Vasvrae, don't be so harsh on the books. Others have need of them,” The words were heavily measured and crisp. The tradespeak flawless to leave no chance for misinterpretation. The Black Library stretched on all sides about them. Rows upon rows of bookshelves each filled with book after book of information dating back to the founding of the Dark Elf empire. The group was nestled in a corner far from others as the argument between the two that had been boiling steadily since they met began.

Seth response was also measured in its approach, “Shlu'ta Usstan elendar xor ph'dos aluin ulu ur'esstu a uns'aa mzild?” Malagaste frowned at him his frame stiffening at the blatant accusation. Seth then switched to trade speak, “I may not know enough of the tongue to avoid looking like an idiot for long, but that's still a far cry better than you Malagaste.”

The anger between the men began to simmer before he spoke firmly, “What do you mean?”

“You're useless. Even here helping us in this you are marginally better than the alternative. You act useless, think yourself as anything but useless, and in doing so somehow become even more so,” Seth began. He then held up a single digit and began, “First, you let a sex demon enclave infiltrate Ettermire. Furthermore said sex demon cult ended up killing and replacing people in a hospital. I wonder how many people died from sub par care because the guy was figuring out what to put in those healing poultices? Then, these people kidnapped a person who was your friend, right under your nose. Way to go there buddy. I figure you at least had a handle on things closer to you but you proved too incompetent for even that. Finally, you let a group of thieves into your city, one of which is world renowned, received a medal for protecting this shit hole from a danger, and was visually recognizable. This same internationally recognizable figure then went on a murder spree including, but not limited to, kidnapping a member of said sex demon enclave and washing an entire warehouse in demon blood.”

Each point was heralded by holding up another finger until three fingers stood up proudly on the gauntlet clad hand. He then glowered at Malagaste before he spoke firmly, “So if you're quite done being useless. I want your help and I want you to try to be useful for five goddamn minutes of your already worthless life. Can you do that for me? Or should I get another guard who might have enough brain cells to comprise a thought?”

[Skie and Avery]

“Knock it off!” she hissed, swatting at Seth’s fingers. “As if he has anything to do with Ettermire,” she grumbled, closing the book she’d been reading and giving the men a dispassionate glare. “I expected better of you two than having to babysit.”

“Uss tangi l'Vasvrae orn arap'ha. L'cressin d'l'liad orn atsar ukt rei.” Malagaste snarled quietly, “Besides, I can read the books that you cannot, in all your stolen wisdom.”

Skie watched, her mouth twisted with annoyance, as Malagaste sniffed and carefully slid his book back into the shelf, scanning the other titles with his amber eyes. She enjoyed his demeanor when they were alone, when he was with his own friends, but with Seth? Thayne, he looked like a child. And Seth…. She glanced quickly at the thief before she turned her attention to the next tome. Well Seth was a creature all his own, infinitely unpredictable and yet every move made perfect sense.

Above them, her ravens kept watch. The matte black of their steel feathers were camouflaged where they sat above the shelves, shadowed from the light of fettered candles that hung low to the tables. Now and again the click of their claws on the wood would sound, and in the quiet after the men had stopped their fuming, standing tensely while they read, the clicks came just faster than the clock that echoed quietly from the main room of the library.

“Tiu’xa,” she breathed, half alerting the men to the raven’s warning, half cursing. Almost too late the guard’s footsteps were scuffing the floor, certainly more quiet than she’d expected. Curse the Drow for their stealth she thought. Before she could extinguish their candles, Malagaste stepped forward.

In his fist, a light shone. It was a deep plum, and turned his black skin into the reflection of galaxies. Skie’d been among Ettermire enough to forget how beautiful the elves could be, when they wanted to. Suddenly, they were all plunged into darkness. Even their candles were a void. Skie could see nothing. Where before the men had stood, she saw only the shelf with empty spaces where they had pulled books. She looked down and was surprised to see the floor. Her form was concealed even to herself.

Had he made them all incorporeal? She nearly dropped the book, invisible in her hand, when she felt a rough hand jerk her forward. She saw nothing, but felt a body against hers, a hot breath at her neck. Teeth scraped against her skin, and for a second shock wouldn’t let her feel anything. The flood of heat to her cheeks and chest came suddenly, and she caught her breath as lips trailed to her collar. Fingers gripped at her hips, pulling her closer for just a moment and then spinning her around towards the shelf.

The guard was passing by and it took all her will not to reach out and let her hands slam against the thick wood planks of the shelving. She bit her lower lip, some spectral fist jerking her hair back while another reached around her stomach. Their fingers were just under the waistband of her trousers, and the guard swept his lantern towards them. Skie stared, her gaze fixed at the shelf as the light reflected off books inscribed with Drow. They didn’t cast shadows, she thought, before the sudden absence of touch on her skin, of pressure pulling her head back, distracted her. The guard moved his light around and moved on, his face nothing more than bored sleepiness.

After a moment, the enchantment melted away. Skie whipped around, staring down the two men with her. They had equal measures of mischief on their faces, but Malagaste may have been gloating over his spell, his proof of usefulness to Seth, and there wasn’t a day that went by that Seth Dahlios didn’t look smug. As she realized they were both standing where they’d been when the invisibility spell was cast, her rage only gathered. The heartbeat pounding in her throat was now a cacophony in her chest.

“Well that was a neat trick,” the Lavinian said lazily as he crossed his arms and raised a brow.

Malagaste bowed his head, his grin predatory. “It certainly helps when shutting down thieves with too high of a regard for their own skills.”

“Stop,” Skie found herself saying, her voice a low growl, husky with gravel. The two paused and stared at her. Her blush deepened, her cheeks flaming scarlet. Her hair was a mess, wisps fallen from where she’d bound it back with cord. She knew they both were perceptive enough to catch the tremor in her knees, the mark on her neck.

Above them, a raven watched but wasn’t giving any hints.

[Dissinger]

A few pointed stares were exchanged at the two of them as a hand heavily rested on a book and it was opened. The Demon stared at the pages before he impatiently flipped the book shut and looked up at the ceiling for strength. His eyes drifted shut before he let out a low string of curses and finally spoke in a louder tone, “For now I find this power gained, is more unto a curse...”

“What is that Vas'vrae?” Malagaste's quizzical tone interrupted the silence as Seth finally leaned forward his hands on the table.

“I've been looking at this wrong. I mean, I should have known better after the anecdote about Thoracis becoming a pincushion, but I was too busy laughing at the sheer pride that got him killed there. The point is, Devon Dan Sabriel is a very pragmatic man. If he had known how to use his magic, he would have used it. We'd have all these stories of Devon ripping souls out or bending demons to his will for fear of becoming mortal. What do you call magic that you can't control, and don't even know how to use?”

“A curse,” Skie replied, “Like the infamous Starslayer curse.”

Malagaste looked at him before he frowned, “Alright, what does that have to do with our endeavors. He still might have used it in a-”

“It only presented in his lovers who often died at his touch. Her mother was immune by sheer fact she was a Moontae and had no soul to begin with. She'd fuck everyone to death given half a chance.” He ignored the dirty glare he got from Skie before he went on, “Point is, we have no clue what she is capable of because anyone who knew what to do with this is dead...”

“So you're saying-”

“This was a fucking waste of time, yes. Lets hit a pub and call it a night. I'm already feeling a sneeze fit coming on and I doubt you can hide that,” Seth clarified as he grabbed his satchel. A hand brushed brown hair from his eyes while he shook his head and roughly put his hat on his head. He looked upon the two of them staring at him dumbfoundedly before he muttered something under his breath, “Yes, leave the books here. Look around you, its a fucking library and the forbidden section at that. Cleaning up our mess is more suspicious and takes more time than letting the ink blotters do the job in the morning.”