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• 

  Alexander July 12, 2024 at 11:40am

  Alexander heard the bar doors creak open; it was a never-ending sound at this time of the evening. Thus, the vampire ignored it, coiling his long, pale fingers around his drink. It was nothing special, just tequila, something he'd learned to enjoy since arriving in the States. The glass traveled to his lips, a small swig was taken before the glass was once again returned to its resting place.

  Alexander was casual this evening. His attire often flipped like a coin depending on where he needed to be, but he had to admit, casual was a far better option for him than formal. He'd never actually dressed formally until his rebirth as a vampire. There was no need. He had been a simple fuck boy by day and a hunter by night. Yet now here he was, the hunted. Though America had done him well. It seemed anything went here. He'd run into and sensed many supernaturals, just in this bar alone. Why were there so many? And why were they so comfortable?

  As whispers and snickers arose, the vampire's ear twitched ever so slightly. Was this another bar fight in the making? Last time, he had to fend off two burly males who apparently felt threatened because of how cleanly he was dressed. Again, damned formal wear. But today was not that day. A casual V-neck shirt hung on his torso, an opened black button-down shirt covered his arms, cuffing at his elbows in a messily rolled demeanor.

  The vampire didn't turn his head at the intrusion; it really wasn't any of his business. He was just waiting out the evening. He'd grown used to floating, used to simply existing. He'd sometimes move from place to place, but always seemed to revisit the small towns he'd been to. While technically he had a home back in Russia with a particular woman, he needed time alone, time to think, time to process years that had been lost. Years he, of course, blamed himself for.

  A woman slid onto the barstool beside him, her presence subtle yet undeniable. His dark gaze slid over to her out of the corner of his eye. She greeted him, but he remained silent for the next few moments, a dark strand of hair seeming to fall over his eye.

  "Buy me a drink first?"

  Her question fell to his ears, jerking a coy smile from his lips. It was more so a smirk that said, 'you can't be serious.' She rambled about her favored drinks. Alexander sat up more from his hunched-over position as she spoke of her distaste for hard liquor. His dark gaze shifted to his glass, fingers once again coiling around it to lift it to his lips almost in mockery.

  The vampire swiveled in his seat, legs open and back slumped against the seat's rest. One arm rested on the bar top, while the other held his drink. He took another long swig, the cup now, for the most part, empty, ice rattling against the thick glass. He now faced her fully, his legs maybe even bumping into hers if she didn't move. His dark gaze took a moment to sweep over her. She wasn't anything impressive but definitely didn't belong here. Nostrils flared, if only in the slightest. It was something most wouldn't even recognize. She reeked of something, animal perhaps? Maybe she was a shifter? He supposed that would explain her horrid attire.

  "How about you buy me a drink," Alexander bit back, rattling the melting ice in his empty glass. The tinkling sound soon after became an annoyance. His voice was, for the most part, normal for these parts, American. But on certain words or syllables, his Russian origins would come to light. "And then you can tell me what you want."

  The bar's dim lighting cast long shadows across the room, mingling with the faint haze of cigarette smoke. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat, a concoction Alexander had grown used to over the decades. He watched her, waiting, his eyes sharp and predatory. Her presence was an enigma he wasn't sure he wanted to solve, but the night was young, and distractions were few and far between.
• 

  Legion July 12, 2024 at 2:32am

  Legacy’s apology was waved away, and Legion practically laughed as she spouted her compliments about how he was a decent guy. It was true that he wasn’t terrible, but he also wasn’t trying to be someone who was wonderful. He did plenty of horrible and admittedly scary things. He just happened to do those things to people who deserved it, at least in his mind. Common people, good people, deserved more grace and understanding.

  When Legacy shrugged at his musings of Agatha’s siblings, he shrugged too. He wasn’t really in a place to speculate anyway. He didn’t know the witch in the slightest, had no indication of who she was or what she used her power for. It seemed to him that she at least used her abilities to keep indentured servants and turn cats into humans, which wasn’t exactly favorable in his book. It also seemed as if she was particularly fond of making deals with devils. Either she was a witch who didn’t know what she was getting herself into, or she knew perfectly well what she was doing and she simply didn’t care about the consequences. Legion had met plenty of both types of people. Neither one would be surprising to him.

  He hardly had to say anything to Legacy about the train or the teleportation. It seemed decided, then. As she stood to put away her books, he stood as well, finishing off the cup of coffee he had brought with him and tossing the disposable cup into one of the library’s trash cans. As Legacy returned, he tucked his phone away into his pocket and walked off after her. He didn’t mention that he technically could fly, because it seemed like she didn’t care about that. And anyway, it had been so long since Legion had done such a thing. He couldn’t anymore. He didn’t add that either.

  Luckily the streets were quiet, though he found it more comfortable when they were abandoned in the dead of night for the warmth and safety of houses. He led Legacy not to an alley, but a smaller, more empty, darker street that didn’t sport street lights. And with that, he made a motion in the air, likely some kind of occultish symbol. If he hadn’t moved so fast, it might have been easier to see what it was and what it meant. There seemed to be a little spark in his eyes, though that was hidden behind his glasses, and he brought his hand down, carving a line in the air, slicing open the nothingness until there was a dark slit. It shimmered on the edges and if anyone were to look in their direction, they would have a hard time seeing anything that wasn’t just the slightest of ripples. In fact, it was hard to look at for most people, and they would likely rather turn away than keep trying to figure out what they had seen.

  Although Legacy could have gone through on her own, the creature grabbed her by her upper arm and tugged her, gently, into the hole. All her feelings were valid and common, especially among first timers. But what was strange about him, about the way he did it, was that it felt almost slow. Yes, no time changed in this inbetween space; no time existed. But it was like walking a path in the nothingness. And there was so much nothingness, so much emptiness, that it was cold, freezing even. Desolate. A place nothing could live in. Nothing was born here. Nothing could die in this space either.

  Though the walk felt eternal, when they emerged from the other side, not a second had passed, there was no weariness in the body, no aching in the feet. It was strange. He was certainly not a demon, though what he was that could do that was anybody’s guess. Quietly, he turned back to the slit in the world and drew his fingers up. It stitched up like a zipper, disappearing as if it had never been there at all.

  His gaze turned to the mansion that they came to stand before, and Legion tilted his head slightly, thoughtful. Her comment made him glance in her direction, but he only gave her a smirk and an absent, dismissive shrug. He didn’t seem annoyed by the comment, if anything he was amused. Instead of responding, he pressed gently on her lower back, urging her toward the mansion.

  “This is what you’re looking for, correct?” He asked, and walked forward himself. If she didn’t move, he would be in front of her, making his way toward the old iron. It only took a tug from him – one that looked gentle, although that was almost certainly because he was significantly stronger than he appeared to be – to tug it off its hinges. He placed it down against the rest of the gate. No need to leave it hanging there in suffering.

  He felt deeply connected to overgrown yards, abandoned spaces taken over by the elements. The desolation and decay felt quiet and lonely, melancholy in its way. But the overgrowth was life and a sign of hope. The juxtaposition was poetic. It certainly looked like the kind of place Legacy would be looking for.
• 

  Nascha Kaltain July 9, 2024 at 1:31am

  "Oh my mistake, what an accomplishment." The drawl of sarcasm clung to Nascha's words, making them sound more biting that teasing and with good reason. Not setting yourself on fire for a few weeks was hardly something to brag about. Magic was dangerous in the hands of the untrained and this female was little more than a novice. Of that she was certain. Truth be told she didn't really care to the reason for the feline witch's unique name, her own was hardly considered common itself and thus she had little right to judge. 

  Despite the way she seemed to be attempting not to irritate Nascha further, her words still sparked another rumbling growl to reverberate within the confines of her chest. "Do not presume to understand that which you know nothing of." She snapped, the strength of her magical aura flaring as fury darkened her gaze. Schooling her expression before she gave anything pertinent away, she settled a dispassionate look upon the feline. "Suffice it to say my reasons for being alone are my own." That was all that she would get from her on the subject. 

  Legacy's sudden outburst was met with a narrow eyed stare, her lips pressing together for a brief moment before she latched onto the half completed sentence. "Never hurt anyone...again? Is that what you were going to say? Contrary to you outraged exclamation I did not make my statement out of judgement but rather because it is fact. Without training you are a danger to yourself and others." She chuckled softly. "No..we don't have schools. We're taught by our famili---"  Nascha broke off that statement suddenly, a shadow passing across her gaze that might offer the other witch a hint as to the answer to at least one of her previous questions. 

  "I don't believe it's as sated as you think..." she mused once she'd collected herself. There was something about this feline and like any good predator, once she'd set her mind to discovering something. She could rarely be swayed from it. 
• 

  Legion July 8, 2024 at 10:39pm

  Legacy’s question made the man blinked behind the dark sunglasses he usually wore, and he shook his head in surprise. Though he typically wore quite a blank, apathetic face, now it creased with a real frown as he shook his head. Though he felt no ill will toward the witch at her question, they didn’t exactly bring up good memories. His time with the angel hadn’t exactly been wonderful.

  “No. I was in a relationship with one. With Uriel. Abusive prick. Or… well, no, he was. I drive angels crazy, so sometimes I think it was me, but… he did slaughter me unprompted so…” His voice trailed off and his frown deepened slightly. It sounded… complicated. Probably everything about him was complicated, even though he spoke everything with ease and seemed unbothered and apathetic toward most situations. 

  “Michael and I – an incarnation of him, anyway – also have a sort of… uh… well, a past. Anyway…” Her own dismissal of his love life made it easy for him to pretend like the question was never asked, which was frankly what he wanted. He didn’t want to think about his time with Uriel, in the same way he didn’t want to think about his enslavement to the morningstar. And he certainly didn’t want to think about what had happened between himself and Michael. At all.

  Once again, though, the man went quiet and let the woman talk out her thoughts. He didn’t have much to say on what Agatha would have wanted to kill angels for. All he could think was that maybe she had plans to try and take their powers, or wanted some way to connect with them because it meant she would be able to make deals. Still, that seemed farfetched. Every angel Legion had met had fallen on the side of arrogance, weren’t necessarily easily bribed and couldn’t stand most creatures that weren’t themselves. Uriel had been a neat freak and felt the entire earthly world was unhygienic, dirty and out to get him. For the life of him, Legion couldn’t understand why the angel had wanted to live on earth so badly.

  “Some witches are known for murdering their siblings for power, especially other witches.” Legion mused at the comment on Agatha’s sisters, though he wasn’t really trying to accuse her of anything. Anyway, he didn’t know anything about her, except that she was Legacy’s enemy and captor. “Though some witches, especially those that work with the Furies, Hecate, or the Morrigan, merge with their sisters in ritual or spell to emulate the power of the Triple Goddess. Especially when there are three of them. They become one.” But that happened so infrequently that Legion couldn’t say he had ever witnessed it himself, despite his age and how well traveled he was.

  Of course, it was entirely possible that Agatha’s siblings had simply died, or that she had had no reason to mention them to Legacy or for Legacy to meet them. There were plenty of possibilities as to why the woman wouldn’t have known about any siblings. Though witches worked in covens, there were plenty who preferred only to work alone. Agatha seemed like the type, excluding her hold over Legacy.

  “There is a train station…” Legion mused, and with that, he reached to pull out his smartphone, which he lay on the table. He typed something on it in an absent, apathetic sort of way, and scrolled. “I can’t drive.” He admitted, “And even if I could, I don’t own a car… the next train there leaves at 8:50.” He paused, before adding, “I suppose I could just teleport us there, if that’s more your style. Though it makes some people nauseous and some people just don’t like it in general.” He had grown so used to it it was like second nature to him, but it alarmed some people to do so.
• 

  Legion July 7, 2024 at 7:46pm

  Legion had only offered the woman a nod in understanding. If she didn’t have any interest in telling him, he wouldn’t push. She was right, after all; it didn’t really matter what the object was, only that she didn’t have it and it clearly affected her. No one liked having power lorded over them. No one liked not being control of themselves fully. Legion knew just how important independence was.

  With Legacy’s apology, Legion simply shrugged dismissively. He was used to it. Anyway, he was strong. He could handle himself. He had done so for this long, anyway. Being enslaved was the life he had chosen a long time ago over the worst fate of being stuck somewhere he didn’t want to be. And anyway, Lucifer was dead, had been dead for a while. He had little to worry about for the moment. He knew the fallen angel would come back into his life eventually, but that would be a while from now, he assumed.

  Without adding anything to the conversation, Legion nodded solemnly again. Living forever was incredibly lonely. The demon could attest to that. Most people were mortal, even if they were powerful and could live a long time. They would disappear eventually. As someone who had witnessed many, many lost lives – some he cared about, and some didn’t matter at all – it felt like watching the world move on and being stuck in limbo. Some people didn’t care, he was sure. Some immortals simply didn’t feel lonely. He was not one of those.

  After Legacy’s dismissal, he offered her a gentle wave goodbye, and headed home himself. He wasn’t often awake during the day. He spent most of the time during the day sleeping, actually. Being nocturnal did have its perks, but trying to coordinate with others who were awake during the day – most people, he found – was not one of them. Still, he could get up if he really had to. Anyway, he didn’t necessarily need sleep. He only wanted it. Liked it. So he, too, woke in the evening, more around six than five, and found himself getting up reluctantly, but easily. She was waiting for him, he knew. He had not promised to come, of course, but he suspected Legacy needed help, and he didn’t really have anything better to do. He had his job, but after completing his most recent small tour, he and his manager had decided to take a break so she could work with other clients.

  So with that, he slipped over to shower, to dress again in black – black jeans, a black long sleeved t-shirt underneath a black leather jacket that was neither too fitted or too bulky, and black boots – and to slip out the door as quietly as he did everything. He pocketed his phone on the way out of his flat, and he locked the door behind him with just a touch of his fingers on the door knob. He did know the library. He didn’t read too often, but he liked it there. And what was more, he liked the quietness of the space. Or, well, quiet for the most part.

  Before he headed there, he stopped for coffee. He was in no rush to make it to the library, but he did arrive there eventually, making note of how… not quiet the place was. Ah, the students. He supposed it made sense for them to be there, though he couldn’t help but wish they’d picked a different day to come. Oh well.

  As he spotted Legacy, he approached her just as quiet, and sat across from her at the table. She didn’t waste time getting to the point, and he appreciated that. His head tilted slightly as she questioned him and explained the story she had learned. He said nothing for a while, instead sipping coffee in thoughtful silence. He was not intimately familiar with an angel named Joseph, as in he had never met him, but then there were hundreds of angels, and while some stayed consistent, others came and went.

  He offered her a shrug to the question of angels falling in love. Angels were immortal in their own way, or at least the strongest of them were, and falling in love was something bound to happen when one lived long enough. Even with humans, although Legion thought that to be impractical.

  “Well, if an archangel can fall in love with me, I suppose it isn’t entirely impossible for an angel to fall in love with a human.” Stranger things had happened. “Interesting.” He mused as he listened to Legacy continue to explain what was written in the book.

  “I didn’t feel anything,” Legion admitted, “But, I am not exactly a demon. You would have to test it on someone different than myself. Anyway, I believe you would know if it had been activated by yourself or Ryan. I’m sure there would be other signs.” Heavenly crafted things often glowed, or vibrated slightly, or made a sound. Not always, of course, but they were typically quite powerful things. Powerful weapons tended to have other effects when being used. “So, either Ryan got that blade, or he got one very similar. Or, I suppose you got the blade and brought it to him. I wonder what he wants with it. If he is working with Agatha, maybe she knows the child of the angel. If he isn’t really, maybe he just wants it for himself.”
• 

  Nascha Kaltain July 6, 2024 at 9:54pm

  Her lips twitched as if she were going to smirk, she could almost see the irritation in the feline's narrow eyed stare. But in the end she kept her expression nonchalant, giving nothing away. She dipped her chin in acknowledgement of the introduction she was given, refraining from commenting that Legacy was an interesting name for a witch; even one whom could turn into a cat. Until she knew more she'd tread carefully with her words. 

  She lifted an eyebrow at the female's choice of words. "Well if those are the rumours being whispered then I suppose those are the very ones I mean.." now she did smirk, offering a glimmer of teasing to the statement. "I'm well aware of the superstitious nature of humans, but we both know there's more to you than making paltry remedies." She left that statement hanging, letting the creature make of it what she would. Chuckling with a tad of bitter despondency. "Every witch thinks she can take care of herself...until she can't." Something Nascha knew of all too well, not that she was going to utter such unless she was left with no other recourse. 

  Her eyes flickered lupine golden, a brief growl rising in her throat in response to the question. Like a knee jerk reaction."That's rather a personal question to ask, is it not?" She supposed she could have simply told the girl the fate of her birth coven and the fact she was currently between packs, but as she'd already decided. She was not going to speak of it unless she had little other choice. "An untrained witch is a danger to herself and others, figure it out as you go along? You might as well hang out a sign inviting trouble." She shook her head. 

  "No. I need none of the above. I have all that I need.." she could almost smell the nervousness wafting off of her companion. If emotions had scents... which most would argue they didn't. What was it that could be making her feel such though? 
• 

  Legion July 5, 2024 at 4:21am

  Her anger and annoyance was justified, not just at his admittedly dismissive comment, but about her situation in general. Enslaved against one’s will was no way to live. Frankly, Legion didn’t think being enslaved at all was a way to live, but some people preferred that to living on the outside of containment. Rather few of them, he imagined. But they existed.

  “Mmm. I see.” He pressed his glasses up onto his nose out of habit before draining the rest of the whiskey in his glass and pushing it aside. “So what is the object? Or is it a piece of you?” He knew it was not uncommon for witches to keep body parts of people for their own whims. Hearts, especially, were favorites. It was also not uncommon to hear of witches getting their own hearts stolen, or replacing them with things, or selling them away for power. He didn’t believe witches were inherently more greedy than others. If humans had the ability to, Legion was certain that they would likewise do that sort of thing, and for the same reason witches did: love, power, money, glory. All people were the same inherently. Whether one worked through that for the better or worse was to be determined.

  “I know the feeling.” He sighed almost wistfully then. Being a slave was not exactly what Legion would call a good time, no, but being enslaved himself meant he understood the ins and outs of it with alarming familiarity. It was better when a master had a new toy, something else to focus on, had lost interest. At the very least, it gave one more freedom, with no one watching over their shoulder like a hawk.

  “Actually, yes. Especially ancient witches and particularly powerful ones. Getting into hell would be quite easy. Once one learns the spells, the ins and outs of all things, the cosmic way in which the world works… traversing dimensions like that is easy, and useful. Especially if one prefers to fraternize with devils or angels. One can summon both easily – demons, too – but as long as one is safe about it, going to a realm can bring power. As long as you do it right, anyway.”

  And not everyone did do it right. It was, in fact, quite common to mess up and find yourself an unwanted member of hell yourself, or enslaved to an angel, or a god. Not every witch was that powerful. Some were arrogant enough to try and immediately fail. The oldest, and the most powerful, were few and far between now. But they did exist. And there could always be more.

  “It is possible, I suppose, that she could be the one supplying power. It just doesn’t usually work like that. Stranger things have occurred, though.” And he shrugged, because unfortunately Agatha was not one of the ancient witches he knew. He couldn’t view witches as being “good” or “evil,” in the same way he viewed very few people as being one or the other. Almost all people were a box of both, morally gray and blurry. Everyone had their own story and their own perspective. It was unlikely that most people did evil things for evil’s sake. Of course, he also understood that Legacy was intimately tied into this. There was no way she would believe that there could be grayness in this situation. And that was okay. Agatha was her enemy. He understood enemies well.

  He found her demeanor charming, if not a little childish. But he didn’t seem to mind it. Instead, the man smirked at her, shaking his head a little in amusement once more. “Humans and witches have different lifespans to cats. Cats live only to be about twenty… if one is really, really lucky, they may hit thirty. Humans, however, have a lifespan of nearly a hundred years, if one is lucky. Witches… well, the strongest and most ancient of them can live forever.” He did not state how old demons could live to be. How old he was. Or even, really, what he was. That was a question for another day, it seemed.

  “What I mean is, untamed power is potential. Wild and savage magic is the most powerful kind. It’s good to have control, yes. You probably don’t want to be setting people on fire–” He didn’t sound like he would actually mind it that much himself, “-- but there is something raw and pure about feral magic. Feral witches. Taming it is difficult, and it is important. But I like the rawness.” And that likely had to do with his sister, who was as untamed and feral as a creature could be. He didn’t say that though. Once again, a story for another time.

  “Hell is what you think it is.” There could not have been a more vague answer if he tried. After scrunching up his nose and mild thought, he continued, more careful, attempting to explain. “Hell is what you think you deserve. Christians – other religions too – use Hell as a source of power and fear over others. Many have been taught that Hell is a burning pit in which you suffer forever for your earthly crimes. If you die, if you believe you deserve that, if you believe that that is what’s waiting for you… that is what you get. It’s complicated.” Again. Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? These were cosmic happenings. No doubt they would be complicated beyond belief. Supernatural creatures understood more than others, but it was creatures as old as time – and older – that could grasp it better than anyone.

  “I can’t burn to death, if that’s what you’re asking.” And it probably didn’t hurt him, either. He probably couldn’t even feel it. At least not the burn of earthly fire. It was possible that Hellish fire was a different story entirely. But maybe not. He was, of course, from there.

  He paused, letting Legacy get her questions out of the way. When she stammered that he didn’t have to answer, he only shook his head and put a hand up to stop her. “It’s okay. I don’t mind the questions. Honest.” He was happy to answer them. “Not all demons look like me. I’d say I’m unique. Not quite a demon, but not a devil either. Many creatures can take a humanoid form. Some choose to, and some do not. Some demons do not leave Hell at all. Some come to earth when they are summoned, to make deals with humans. I, with my two younger sisters, walk this earth and don’t return to Hell. They are not allowed back, and I chose to be with them over that realm.” He didn’t sound like he minded it too much, though. Yet another thing that was complicated. “All stories are real. All gods are real. They exist because people believe in them, fuel their fire, bring them offerings, pray and give them power. I suppose gods can die off, and I suppose they grow weak when they lose followers. But if there is just one worshiper, there is something to keep the gods alive.”

  He sounded so sure of himself. But if there was one thing he knew about, it was the cosmic working of things. He was old. He’d learned a lot. And though he didn’t act like it, he was certainly powerful. Powerful beings knew a lot more than they let on, often. 

  “I don’t, really.” He had just been walking home when the storm started. Though he did not seem as angry about it as Legacy, he was not a fan of being wet either, so the pub had been a good stand in. but still, he gave her a nod as he slid from the booth, being quick to grab a napkin. He could have found a pen, or conjured one, but instead he lay his hand over the soft paper, and for a moment something burned on it, bright and alive and orange, like metal in a fire. And then it cooled, and it turned black, charred into it.

  He handed it to her.

  “My number. If you ever need it.” He said smoothly, before moving to clasp his hands behind his back. Oddly, despite not using a towel himself to dry off, he was perfectly dry himself, from his hair to his shoes. “I do know of Northumberland. Have been there, but not for a long while. But the United Kingdom is small, as far as countries go. And I live in London. Wouldn’t be hard to get there.” He paused, before giving a bit of a softer smile to her. “The dead certainly are. If you’re going by yourself, I recommend finding the closest cemetery. Plenty of dead there to talk to. Of course, the most useful information tends to come from those who died in… unexpected ways.” Murdered bodies buried beneath soft soil in gardens or drowned in lakes. They did often have the most to say.

  “Hopefully not.” His smile turned into a smirk then, and he gave an absent shrug. “Good luck, Legacy.” He said, as he turned on his heel, and slipped out of the pub himself. In a blink, he was gone. Drinks paid for by him already. A mysterious man with an almost disturbing wealth of knowledge. But then, he would have, wouldn’t he?
• 

  Nascha Kaltain July 4, 2024 at 9:34pm

  Her head cocked to the side as she watched the cat startle, surprise flitting briefly through her gaze. She hadn't expected her voice to be such a jolt. Having honestly thought the animal would sense her, that she hadn't was...puzzling. 

  In response to the growl her eyes flashed lupine gold, a rumbling reverberating through her chest. Not enough to truly scare the feline but a reminder of whom the apex predator was. Her posture not changing an inch otherwise. Her cool regard remained affixed upon the feline, watching as the fur along the creatures body smoothed out, it's hackles once more lowering.

  She had no idea what was turning through those thoughts as the animal regarded her though she wasn't in the least bit surprised to hear that feminine voice, she'd already come to the conclusion this was no ordinary cat. A lone eyebrow arched in response to the words. "Surely causing fear for fears sake is beneath us, yes?" The soft chide in her tone was nothing if not evident, creatures such as they were more than base instincts after all. Shoulders lifting in a careless shrug a moment later, she repositioned herself against the tree, arms crossing over her chest. 

  "Nascha," she withheld the addition of her last name. It wouldn't do to be too trusting right off of the bat, she knew better than that. Or maybe she was just somewhat cynical. But who could blame her given all she'd endured. "And why does anyone come here? Perhaps I'm merely curious to see if there is any...merit, to these rumours." 
• 

  Legion July 4, 2024 at 8:51pm

  “I see.” For the moment, that was all the creature said, pulling the glass of whisky toward himself. He took a sip of it as he crossed his legs, sitting back into the booth himself. He had a mildly feminine way of sitting, which honestly made him come off as even more relaxed and less of a threat than he initially appeared to be.

  At the question of the dagger, Legion raised an eyebrow. The gesture could be seen, though of course it was mostly hidden beneath the glasses he wore. “Well, considering the power that radiated off of it, and its color, its radiance… I’d guess that it was an angel’s blade, or at the very least a blade crafted by some sort of a god. And I imagine it wasn’t a god of death or the underworld, they tend to have a flair for the dramatic in the other direction. They could be used in rituals. They have an exceeding amount of power. It’s also possible she wants it because of the power it has to kill Hellish things. Maybe if she’s working with a devil, she has plans to kill it for its power. Difficult, but not unheard of.”

  Evidently, he had nothing to say about her being a cat, or making a deal with the devil. And if he had something to say about it at all, he refrained from doing so, letting his gaze shift upwards toward the ceiling. He had seen far stranger things in his lifetime. Plenty of shifters, though Legacy wasn’t quite that. It was a similar premise.

  “So… you left her without taking all of your belongings? Actually, nevermind. I’m sure it's more complicated than that.” He said this with a frown, even though Legacy told her story with such a passive face. Even if she had been eager to leave in a hurry, it would have been a little unreasonable for her to just leave something behind that was so important, that had control over her.

  “At least you’re away from her now. That’s a start.” He didn’t know anyone personally named Agatha. Or, at the very least, not any time recently. He was old. It was not unheard of to know of people in the past. But Legion was also not exactly the most talkative of creatures, and he didn’t necessarily seem like a people person either, just polite and helpful.

  “So she turned you into a witch.” He hummed as he pursed his lips. He seemed to have a habit of staring or zoning out, and at the moment it was focused on the foggy window and the sound of rain pouring outside. “A particular powerful one, too, but with no direction or training on how to control your power. You’re wild. I like that.” He nodded again, sagely, and returned to sipping at the drink.

  “It’s no bother.” He said easily to her apology, giving her another dismissive shrug. “I get myself into trouble all the time. You were just doing what you thought was best. I can leave if you wish. I don’t mind.” He thought about leaving, but didn’t move from where he sat. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? It seems like you have someone after you. I doubt Ryan didn’t expect you to die in that explosion. He’ll be after you. Unless he’s working with the woman you are chasing.”

  Which was clearly what Legacy already thought was the case.
• 

  Legion July 4, 2024 at 4:10pm

  Legion gave her a somewhat dismissive shrug. He didn’t seem annoyed at all. He had heard all sorts of things in his lifetime. About how real it all was, about how it wasn’t real at all. “Every story and myth is real, darling.” He said with an easy little smirk. “Some are overexaggerated, and some religions – Christianity especially, I’m afraid – think that they’re the only one that is real and that matters. I suppose that’s the way you ought to think, if you want to colonize the world with your religion. But there are many other devils besides Lucifer.”

  He gave another shrug to her, but when she seemed to pale again he frowned at her. Clearly there was something more pressing to her than just the sudden realization that things she believed were stories were, in fact, real.

  “I don’t pop in when I want. It’s complicated.” He nodded sagely then, ignoring the comment about being crazy – herself and himself. Not everyone was so keen to the idea of things like that being real. Some people believed it, especially Christians who were full of fear and hatred and knew they had to follow the rules lest their God punish them. In his opinion, Legion thought it was no way to be a god. But then, he was not a god, he did not have followers, and he did not want them. 

  When she took his hand, she would notice that, despite the cool weather and the icy downpour, his skin was unusually warm. Much warmer than a human’s would have been, like there was a fire that burned inside of him, warming his body and his skin to an unsettling degree. It was probably why he was unbothered by the rain. Aside, of course, from being wet.

  He offered a gentle smile as he felt her calm. The fire inside her wasn’t burning out, instead reignited with a fiery passion. With her comment about rather not seeing the police, he gave another nod and, resting a hand on her shoulder, he led her away from the crowds. As the officers crawled in closer, the two of them slipped away. Seemingly unnoticed, too, as the elderly man Legion had helped looked around for him and didn’t seem to see him as he walked by. Magic, perhaps, or some kind of power.

  But he said nothing on it, and if no one was looking for Legacy specifically, she may not have even noticed that it had happened. His hand fell from her shoulder after they exited the crowd, once they were far away enough to not be noticed.

  “Don’t worry,” he said easily, “I know just the place.”

  And they were not too far away either, just a couple of blocks, which Legion walked in silence, hands clasped behind his back. He wasn’t exactly a talker, it seemed, and he didn’t pry either. He preferred to let people tell him things when they wanted. After their short jaunt through the streets – mostly dark, as most people had gone to bed, and there were disturbingly few street lights available to light their path – they came to quite an old, rustic building with a black lacquered door, old oak, etched with an intricate design. It had to be hundreds of years old.

  As he slipped in, he held the door open for Legacy. The pub itself was dimly lit on purpose, and as she had asked for, it was quiet. There were few people, and those there were reading or enjoying a drink or two or three by themselves, not bothering with other patrons. All the furniture was old and oak, well taken care of and polished to a gleam. More than that, the pub itself was warm, with a scattering of overstuffed chairs and couches and low coffee tables, bookcases full of old books and puzzles for people to play. It was a place to rest and to chat, to hang around and enjoy the atmosphere.

  He led her to a booth that was by a window decorated with a lattice design. He sat her down, and left her there without a word, but only to go to the bar. And he returned with a clean hand towel, an Irish coffee and whiskey. He pushed the coffee and the towel to her, settling down on the other side of the table. She was right. He had no ill will. He just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “It’s not a full towel, but it's the best they have. Don’t worry, it's clean.” Either he was a charmer, or he simply got everything he wanted without asking. Another power, maybe. Or maybe it was his polite nature, or the fact that he was handsome. Either way.