“Ansaldo’s balls,” she whispered, “Nevin, you have … near divine magic flowing through you. You are growing in power.” Caution came into then, her eyes regarding him up and down. Knowing that he might not be listening, but just in case, she slipped Vitruvion the image of the swirling chakras from Nevin and left it at that.
She received no answer.
That made Nevin stop and stare at his friend, his eyes wide in disbelief. He looked down at his hands, then back at her, his jaw hanging open. The man tried to speak once, then again, but each time they came out a wordless croak that conveyed nothing other than sheer shock.
Someone else might have disbelieved Stare when she said that. If someone else had told Nevin that, he would have laughed in their face. He had thought his threads and his magic were at best eldritch, from outside of this world - never would he have thought they were divine. He had thought that the name the Crimson Church gave him was just a title that they were calling him by in order to feel more legitimate about themselves.
But. Nevin already knew that Stare’s eyes could see more than the real world, and could pierce into hidden secrets. That was how they had become friends after all, when she had seen the mess that was his soul. The alchemist swallowed, his throat suddenly painfully dry. He almost wanted it not to be true - wait. There was one question, a way out.
“I… Uh. Are you sure? It's not like you've…. Seen a lot of divine magic, right?”
Her brow rose and she looked directly at him, staring straight at him. Her look was so direct, so penetrating that if Nevin had not known her he might be fearful. Slowly one of her hands ground into a fist and she straightened, immediately switching into the mode of the old lie that had kept Vitruvion from breaking his promise to the Althanas pantheon.
“I have seen plenty, Nevin,” she spoke carefully. “I have told you before that Vitruvion is a powerful mage. I also hinted at it once, but the truth is he is a partial celestial being. A form of angel, which is not as uncommon as you might think. Aasimars, half angels, appear in many tales, many armies. I have worked with them a few times.” And with her heart pounding against her chest she turned roughly away, the sort-of half-truth but also pain of lying burning at her throat.
Marching away she came to a set of ornate black iron gates. Beyond them was a grand two floor house with a stone driveway and huge bay windows. The roof was terracotta like many others around the area and the walls a pale yellow. A sprawling orchard and vineyard fell away to one side of the lawn, where one man could be seen slowly pruning. Setting her hand on the latch of the gates Stare pushed her way through into the Elssmith manor estate, leaving her friend to make of what he would with her words. Her clawed feet scraped across the stone work as she made her way direct to the huge double doors.
