Of Kith and Kin

[Nevin]

She grunted and looked back at Nevin. “Hi,” she said in a low voice. “Eh … how are you?”

Nevin rubbed a hand across his scalp as he looked over at his friend. It was heartening to see her in such a better condition, even if it did come with the burden of Vitruvion’s presence. Now that his brain wasn't stalling at the sudden contact, he looked her over again to confirm what he had seen before.

She was definitely healed, at least to outward appearances. Her feathers had regained their lustre, and her eyes were bright and shining, and her hands were curled into light fists. He wondered absently why that was as his eyes paused for a moment on the cuff that was secured around her wrist again. For a moment only, white hot rage shot through him - she had been free of that humiliation - but he shoved that thought and the emotion attached to it away. Instead he gave her a light smile.

“I am… Not fully healed but I am in better condition. I'm quite glad to see that you've recovered, Stare. I could do without the humming across my skin that won't stop, but until I deal with the individuals who sought to have me delivered to them I doubt that will happen.” One shoulder twisted in a shrug.

“I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon, though as I said I am most certainly glad to. I would join you on your hunt, but if I tarry too long I have no idea what the cult will do. However I doubt a few minutes in either direction will change things.” He grinned.

Blinking a little she listened to Nevin, then shrugged. “After we left you Raevin and I went straight back to Beinost. I was in a state and he - Vitruvion -” she glanced uncertainly to the god, and he just gestured a couple of fingers for her to keep on going. “Healed me, so that's that …” she blinked a few times, trying to establish her train of thought again amongst the emotions. “Eh, yeah. I would help you too but we have our own … Stuff. Obviously.”

She realised her speech was becoming awkward and stuttering so she grimaced, and then just went on, focusing as if Vitruvion wasn't even there. “I'll let you know if we find anything that might be useful to you. There might be-” she looked suddenly over to Vitruvion, “Wait. Do you have the book?”

There was a pause as the man blinked, and frowned a little, before reaching into his pocket and drawing out the demon book that they had found in the desk at the cells, locked away. Very lightly he placed it on the table and pushed it towards Nevin, his hand leaving it almost eagerly.

“Have it, why don't you, alchemist,” he said with a disgusted curl of his lip. “I'd rather be away from such a thing, and I already have a copy of my transcript.”

“There's a full translation into common in there too,” Stare said, eyes bright suddenly. “You might find more use of it.”

Nevin raised an eyebrow and spun the book around, gloved fingers dancing across the surface as he opened it up and glanced inside. The original words, still extant in the pages, sent shudders of revulsion down his spine, and he couldn't quite blame Vitruvion for wanting to be away from it. However there was something a bit strange in the man’s seeming rush to stop touching the Demonic artifact. Another note, filed away in Nevin’s mental lexicon.

The translated words though, those were… Interesting. There were rituals inscribed in the book, offerings to the Demonic benefactor for power, which Nevin already knew he would discard out of hand. There was also a small lexicon of some ritual ingredients that were more difficult to find, or to understand what they did. It was definitely a useful thing to have, and as he closed it back up Nevin nodded his thanks to Stare.

“There do seem to be some things in here that I might be able to use, ingredient descriptions and the like that are rarely seen. I'd have to read it through fully to be sure. At least this Cobalt-taken thing doesn't require a direct Demonic patron to use everything inside the pages. I do not intend on selling my soul - not when we saw what happened when the mage let slip one thing.” The demon had barely been present, or it hadn't been present anywhere but the mage’s mind. And yet it had still killed the mage with almost disgusting ease.

No, one of the first things Nevin would be finding would be a way of protecting himself from Demonic influences.

“Please don't sell your soul,” Stare replied, smiling in her eyes. “That wouldn't be … pleasant. Not with a demon. They're … demonic forces and possessions and they're magic is incredibly dark and powerful.” She paused, looking down at the book, then back up to him. “You're a better person than that I think.”

She took a moment to pause and then collate her thoughts right now. “I know that. I hope it can help you really. Are you close with your … quest?”

There was a light chink as Vitruvion took up his cup and drank the last of his tea in a steady gulp. The reminder that he was there, watching made Stare pause again and run a finger uneasily through her feathers at her arm.

Her confidence in his being a better person than someone who would sell his soul made something warm coil up in Nevin’s stomach, the sensation entirely pleasant, and a nice distraction from the ever present humming that the blood magic being practiced in this city was causing on his skin. Avis was, somewhat certainly at this point, a friend who did not care that his art was somewhat maligned.

And her concern was touching as well - her admonishment against Demonic contracts was gentle, nothing like the fiery diatribes against magic that had filled one of his childhoods. So when Vitruvion, apparently reminding her of his presence set his cup down a little more heavily than necessary, Nevin shot her a smile before schooling his face once more.

“I believe that I am. I have tracked them down to the slums, and Vitruvion himself confirms that in that direction is something particularly vile. I've no doubt that someone attached to that Crimson-accursed cult is hiding here. Finding them at this point will be a matter of leg work and dedication - and I don't intend to rest until they are dealt with. Just as you, no doubt, intend to deal with your own quarry.” As he spoke Nevin had nodded towards Vitruvion when he spoke the man’s name, and then inclined his head in the direction that the white haired man had pointed. A vicious, angry grin devoid of happiness had slipped into his lips as he finished speaking, though he let it fade into a neutral expression as he picked up his tea to finish the beverage.


Stare blinked a few times as she heard the darker notes. A grim feeling settled into her stomach with the knowledge that Vitruvion would like that part of Nevin, and be enraptured by it. However, that thought led to a lengthy silence before she could think of anything else to say.

“Right, if that is it,” Vitruvion sat up suddenly and poised with his cane between his knees. “I would say, my dear, that we will go now.” He offered Nevin a very brief smile before using the closest hand to Stare to nudge at her shoulder.

Barely did her shoulder shift and she turned her head to look right at him. “You're a dickhead.”

He smiled wonderfully back at her. “And you're a bitch. Now. Move.” The last word was clearly an order.

As he nudged her again she dragged in a breath before begrudgingly getting to her feet. “I guess, bye Nevin,” she said, looking back to the alchemist. “We'll … see each other soon. We're staying at the Radasanth Royal inn.”



Nevin stood up then, and wrapped her shoulders in a brief hug before stepping back and bowing to Vitruvion.

“Stare. I'll try to find you after I deal with my current ghost. Keep safe until then. Vitruvion…. It was an experience meeting you.” He gave his friend another parting smile before flipping his hood up onto his head and sliding into the crowd, melting out of sight as he resumed his hunt for the cultists.

There was silence between the pair. Then Vitruvion snorted in laughter. “An 'experience.’ Of course.” Then calmly he placed a hand on Stare's shoulder and encouraged her to turn the direction they were destined to head.